DJ looks over Charlotte’s shoulder and smirks at me. Before I knew what was happening, the microphone sailed through the air, slamming against the back wall and barely missing DJ’s face.
“Dude, what the fuck?” DJ shouted as he set Charlotte down on her feet and looked behind him at the dent that was now in the wall and the microphone rolling to a stop on the ground.
“Uh, it slipped.” I shrugged.
Charlotte looked back and forth between us before calmly walking over to the back wall and scooping up the microphone. She turned and brought it over to me.
“Are you mad about something?”
I’m mad that you don’t think singers are totally hot!
I took the microphone from her hand, trying not to look like an idiot when I felt her fingers brush against mine. “Nope. Not mad at all. I’m perfectly fine.”
“Is this part of the show? Can I throw something? I want to throw a speaker,” one of the old people in the front row said to a nurse.
“I don’t want to eat peas for dinner anymore!” an old guy piped up from the back row, getting up from his wheelchair and kicking one of the tires.
Uh-oh.
“Sorry, folks! That wasn’t part of the show. How about we play some Jingle Bells next?” I asked the crowd hopefully.
“SCREW JINGLE BELLS! AND SCREW BINGO! BINGO IS A SHITTY GAME!” a lady in front of the stage screamed.
Before I knew what was happening, thirty old people were getting up out of their chairs and wheelchairs and chanting “BINGO SUCKS,” advancing on the nursing staff.
DJ came up next to me and whispered in my ear while we watched the chaos unfold in front of us. “Dude, I think we should make a run for it.”
“It will be fine. Let’s just play something low-key to settle them down.”
DJ quickly started strumming the first few bars to Silent Night and suddenly thirty pairs of cataract eyes turned in our direction. “NO! WE WANNA HEAR METALLICA!”
DJ immediately stopped playing and clutched on to Charlotte’s arm as the group of blue hairs started advancing toward the stage.
“Oh Jesus. Forget the equipment. RUN!” I screamed.
“Maybe if you’re lucky I’ll sing a song or two later,” I say with a sympathetic smile as Aunt Jenny butchers the words some more. I haven’t sang on stage since that dark day at Keystone Point, but I’m all for doing whatever I can to help my mom out.
“I guess that’s Joe, we don’t have pot, but at least I’m sure of allllllll the snot.”
“Hey there, Claire. You’re looking especially lovely today,” Tyler says as he leans in with his lips puckered for a kiss.
My mom holds her hand up in front of her, and Tyler’s face is smooshed against her palm. She’s only five foot four and a hundred and five pounds soaking wet. Tyler towers over her at around six foot, but she will kick anyone’s ass if they piss her off.
“Stop calling me Claire or I will neuter you.”
Tyler pulls back with a huge smile on his face and shoves his hands in his pockets.
“I look forward to our time together, honey.”
“Make him stop,” mom deadpans.
“Tyler, stop.”
Tyler sighs happily and continues to smile at my mom until she finally shakes her head in annoyance and walks away.
“What is wrong with you?”
Tyler shrugs. “I can’t help it. Every time I look at her, all I can think about is sex.”
“I’m very uncomfortable with this conversation right now,” I complain.
“It’s your fault for marketing a dildo called The Claire.”
I shudder and grab him by the arm, dragging him over to a table where my dad and Uncle Jim are sitting. “That thing was invented when I was six. You can’t hold me responsible for that.”
It’s true. My company manufactures sex toys named after each female member of my family: The Claire, The Liz, and The Jenny. Do you have any idea how disturbing it is that the highest grossing product for the last eighteen years is one named after my mom? I have to read daily emails from customers that say things like, “Claire is the only one that can get me off,” and “I was able to have multiple orgasms with Claire!” and “My wife screams Claire when she orgasms, and I’m perfectly fine with that!”
I want to puke just thinking about it.
“Hey, Uncle Jim, Dad, what’s going on?” I ask as we walk up to the picnic table where they’re sitting.