Karaoke Betrayal: When the Boss Plays Your Wedding Song
MY BOSS SAID, “I PROMISE THIS WILL MAKE YOU FORGET ABOUT HIM.”
The air in the karaoke bar was thick with smoke and cheap perfume, but I couldn’t taste either of them. He actually said those words, after buying me a drink, my first in six months. Six months since Mark left.
The lights were flashing, a dizzying kaleidoscope of pink and green. Someone was butchering “Bohemian Rhapsody” a few tables over, but all I could hear was Mark’s voice saying, “It’s not you, it’s me,” for the millionth time. I could feel the cheap vinyl of the barstool sticking to my sweaty thighs.
Then Tony, my boss, grabbed the microphone, he was never one for subtlety, and began singing. Not some pop ballad, but the song me and Mark danced to at our wedding. MY freaking wedding.
He winked at me, off key, during the chorus, and now Mark is standing right behind him, clapping slowly.
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My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Mark. Here. Now. The world tilted, the kaleidoscope of lights blurring into a single, pulsing threat. Tony’s butchered rendition of “At Last” grated on my ears, each wrong note a fresh jab to my already wounded soul. He kept glancing at me, a possessive glint in his eyes that felt more predatory than comforting.
I tried to speak, to ask what was happening, but my throat was a desert. My mouth opened and closed, making a silent gasp. I looked over at mark, still clapping, a ghost of a smile playing on his lips. He looked older, tired, but still, undeniably, Mark.
He started to walk towards the stage, and Tony, oblivious, continued to croon, completely ruining the song. I wanted to scream, to run, to disappear. I wanted the floor to open and swallow me whole.
Suddenly, Mark reached the stage, and grabbed the mic from Tony. The music stopped abruptly, the silence deafening. He looked at me, his eyes filled with a mixture of regret and something else… determination? He cleared his throat, the sound amplifying in the tense room.
“I’m sorry,” he began, his voice rough with emotion. “I was wrong. Very wrong. I didn’t understand what I had, what *we* had.”
Tony looked completely dumbfounded.
“But,” Mark continued, turning towards Tony, “this isn’t the way to do it. Using my favorite song, while trying to steal my place in her heart, is just cruel, Tony.”
Mark looked at me, a genuine smile spreading across his face. “I know I messed up. But maybe, just maybe, we can try again.”
He held out his hand, the memory of our wedding dancing in my head. Tony just stood there, his mouth agape, face red with a mixture of embarrassment and rage. I looked from Mark’s hand to Tony, and then, with a slow, decisive smile, I took Mark’s hand.
We walked out of the karaoke bar, hand in hand, the flashing lights and cheap perfume fading behind us. The air outside was cool and clean, and finally, I could breathe. As we stood outside, he held my hand tightly, and said, “I’ll make it up to you.”
“You have a long way to go, Mark,” I said, smiling.