Karaoke is a lot like being a gladiator, it all comes down to skill and likability. 

When it comes to karaoke, it's all an entertainment contest. Why else would you get up on that stage? The audience demands  entertainment, much like the Romans of old that demanded to be entertained with bloodshed and skill.

It always makes me think of the movie The Gladiator, where Maximus shouts at the audience after completely demolishing his competition, "ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?!?" 

He was forced to fight for his life, to showcase his skill set, and leave the audience wanting more, hoping that he had done enough to be spared for another day, another fight, another contest of skill. 

Karaoke, when preformed in front of media that want you to epically fail, to be the villain in all of their stories, act the same. They want you to internally bleed so they can dip their pens in it and use it to write their newest article— Maybe that is a bit dramatic, but it certainly feels that way. 

So when you feel like you have to preform like your life depends on it, it's hard not to feel like a piece of meat in an arena being judged because of your skill and entertainment value. 

Gladiators have their sword, and singers have their song choice. I had hoped to talk to Luke before being thrown up onto a stage. To correlate a plan so we could pick songs that played off each other, but I didn't have that luxury as I was shoved into the back of a slick black town car and driven to a local bar. Instead, I spent the drive, ignoring Delle's smirks, Laliana's words of encouragement and Allie's grumbles that I should have let her pick my outfit— hard pass, I liked my 2000's punk rocker look— trying to find the perfect song to sing. 

I need something that makes me and Luke look like a team. Friends instead of enemies. What would Luke pick? 

One thing I knew for sure, whatever he picked, I needed my song to be a thousand times better. 

The Malarky's Bar, a colorful Irish Pub with oak tables and colorful bottles which lined the back of the bar was packed as we shuffled inside. A woman with short black hair waved us over to the only empty high top table next to a small stage at the far end of the room.

A pool table, jukebox and the bar stools that lined the bar made up the rest of the cozy place near the entrance. The entire place was noise and the smell of beer battered fish and chips. Gazes followed us across the room as we squeezed past tables, settling into our seats. 

"Ah, the sharks arrived early," Allie said with a warning smile towards the media, contemplating murder. 

The look made a chill run down my spine. Note to self, never tell Allie what my side job is. 

Suddenly, our table was filled with eight helpings of fish and chips as Tate slid into the last seat at our table. "I love this place," he said dreamily, staring down at the food. "I got you each a helping so you don't take mine," he said, eyeing each of us. 

"Um... that leaves you with four baskets of fish and chips, Tate," Delle said with a raised brow. 

Allie fought a smile. "It's better not to push him on it."

"He's a food hoarder," Laliana explained, leaning towards me conspiratorially. 

"True," Tate said with his sunshine smile. Then he lifted a fry from one of his baskets and offered it to Allie. "With everyone but her." 

Allie leaned forward and snatched the fry between her teeth, sending a surprised blush across Tate's face. Delle rolled her eyes. "Kill me if I ever become that disgustingly adorable."

"You already are," Andrew said, pulling up a chair to our table and settling in next to Delle. He stole a fry from one of Tate's baskets, earning a glare. "Cool it Tate. The sharks are always watching." 

Tate grumbled and moved his baskets of food closer to himself, eyeing Andrew warily. 

Delle looked appalled. "I am not that..." she waved her hand wildly. "...ridiculous..." she finished. 

Tate snorted. "Yeah... you kinda  are. Most people are when they are with their favorite person." 

Delle muttered something under her breath, earning a smile from Andrew. He clearly liked her spit fire personality. 

"So... who's starting this karaoke thing?" Tate asked, looking around. 

I shoved a handful of fries into my mouth. "Not me," I said past the fries. "I refuse to go before Luke." I glanced at his brother Andrew. "Any idea what he will sing?"

Andrew hesitated, looking thoughtful. "He's a tough one to pin down. But considering that you two have had a hard time getting along... he'll view this as a competition—"

"Great," I muttered.

"—But that doesn't mean he'll pick the right song. He really likes pissing off the paparazzi."

I nodded, taking that in. What kind of song would he pick to make them mad? Will he try to make things better for the movie, or just try to mess with them?

Suddenly, Tate stood up, two of his four baskets of food completely empty. "I'll go warm things up," he said sauntering up on stage. 

Allie stared after him, wide eyed. "Um... what?" 

Tate shot her a smile over his shoulder. "I was born for this. After all, doesn't look like Luke is here yet and Em looks like she is going to barf if she has to go first. It's called chivalry."

Before Allie could stop him, Tate hopped up on the stage, walked over to the microphone and smiled at everyone in the room. "Hey guys! Guess I'm starting things off." He rubbed the back of his neck. "Aaaaand I have no idea what to sing..." 

He walked over to the small stool sitting on the stage and picked up the song book. Flipping through the pages Tate's green eyes lit up as he spotted a familiar song and called out the song number to someone standing behind a small karaoke machine next to the stage. 

"Have you ever heard Tate karaoke?" Allie asked Andrew. 

He took a long sip of water, shaking his head. "No... should I brace myself?" 

Laliana smiled widely. "Maybe..."

The song "As It Was" by Harry Styles began to play. The room erupted into laughter as Tate began to sing... every word to the song completely wrong. 

"Holdin' my back

Grandma's holdin' my rat

I want you to play in my marching band

Why don't we eat the cat?"

Andrew spat out his water, eyes wide. "WHAT ON EARTH?!?"

Tate continued, completely serious, voice filled with passion as he sang at the top of his lungs. 

"I..." was all I was able to say. Delle, Andrew and I stared at Tate, eyes wide, clearly new to Tate's impassioned fake lyrics. 

"This is..." Andrew said, clearing his throat. 

"Is the worst thing I've ever heard," Delle finished, eyes still wide. "And I've heard murder confessions." 

The song finally ended with Tate taking a long, dramatic bow before bouncing off the stage and taking his seat next to Allie who couldn't seem to keep herself from smiling at him. "You are ridiculous." 

"Truth," he replied before shoving several fries into his mouth. "You are up Em. Trust me, even if you botch it, it will be nothing like the masterpiece I just gave them." 

Sighing, I stood up, bracing myself. Better get this over with. 

But before I could reach the stage, Luke was suddenly there, holding an electric guitar. I froze, stunned by the change in his appearance. He had leaned into a punk rocker look, dressed all in black, sleeves ripped off of his shirt, showcasing the tattoos that snaked across his toned arms and neck. 

I moved to turn, eager to head back to my seat, but Luke shook his head, leaning into the microphone, dark eyes on me. "Don't be shy Em," he said, his voice deep. "I need my muse up here."

My entire face blushed against my better judgement— clearly from embarrassment at his openly immodest tone and not at the way the sound jolted through me like a bolt of lightning, waking me up in ways I didn't appreciate. Dude... take the sexiness down a notch! 

I moved slowly back towards the stage, and took the stool seat he offered. 

Luke smiled at me from under his thick lashes as he took a moment to adjust the electrical guitar strap over his shoulder. He moved away from the mic and leaned in to whisper in my ear. "Good luck following this number," he said against my ear, his lips tickling my neck. 

I blinked away a wave of dizziness and fought off a glare. "Bring it on Walker. You talk big game. Let's see if you can deliver." 

A flash of amusement filled his eyes and then suddenly, the room was filled with the sound of his electrical guitar as he strummed right into his song, leaving me breathless at the power of it. At the transformation into an entirely different person. A powerhouse of seduction that would fool anyone and everyone. That would fool me if I wasn't careful. 

Uh oh... this is going to end badly for me... 

Then Luke Walker began to sing a rock cover of "Sucker" of Jonas Brothers, serenading me in front of a room filled with hundreds of people. 

It was utterly irritating how good he was at singing in a deep sexy voice... and playing guitar in a crazy talented way... and acting like he wanted to drink me up like a vanilla shake...  He was a powerhouse of talent that hated me, and was attempting to make me as uncomfortable as possible and stealing the top spot for the night all in one go. 

Ugh. Stupid hot actor boy. 

The song finally ended and the crowed erupted into applause. With the sudden praise, Luke's bravado vanished, the character he was playing, seeming to shatter. He blinked and moved to leave the stage, itching to get away from the attention.

I jumped up to the microphone. "Don't be shy Luke," I said so the crowed could hear. Luke froze, turning to look at me, a warning on his face. 

"Who wants to hear Luke Walker play again?" I asked the crowed. They cheered. I motioned for Luke to join me on stage, my smile deadly. "I need my muse up here for this next one." I waited until he was back on stage before I continued. "After all...  We've been practicing this next one all week."

Luke clenched his jaw, fighting his reactions. "And what song would that be?" he asked calmly, adjusting his guitar reluctantly, following my lead. 

Ha! Too many people here to be a jerk to me in public. Win for me!

I slowly walked over to Luke and with each step I took, I fell into a character version of myself. The performer. The girl sharks couldn't touch. The bravest version of me.

I am Em Springs. Gladiator, performer, untouchable.

By the time my punk rock leather boots reached Luke, I was someone new. Stronger. I wasn't a girl who was scared of being the subject of a bad headline. I was a girl who was going to sing a song while humiliating acting partner's butt, and leave unscathed.

Adjusting the clip of pink streak in my hair, I stood up on my tiptoes, my punk rock pitch black leather jacket swishing out behind me as I moved, longer than my short cut jeans and fish net stockings, acting like a villainous cape. 

The final touch of my transformation was my smokey eye makeup, giving me a rocker edge, a perfect match for the song I had decided to sing.

I leaned towards his ear, and whispered the name of the song, touching his arm gently, hoping to rattle him with my open show of competitive affection. "Hope you know the song, or this is going to be painful for you." 

---

Thank you for reading chapter fourteen! I hope you are enjoying the story! Or are at least curious to see where it goes!

UPDATE DAYS - A NEW CHAPTER EVERY FRIDAY!

What song will Em sing?

Will she preform better than Luke? 

Will the audience like her choice? 

Will Luke know the song? Or will they both be left embarrassed?

Will Em run into paparazzi problems while singing?

What will happen next?

Want to know what the REAL lyrics to the song Tate was singing are? Take a listen to Harry Styles "As It Was" below!

https://youtu.be/Qfm6nfz1QNQ

Have you ever heard the Jonas Brothers song "Sucker"? If not, take a listen below! Luke sings a rock cover version of this song. 

https://youtu.be/tdKmewyZPXE

CHAPTER QUESTION - What is your favorite music genre and why?