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Kevin
Byrne
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Running
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Chapter
6 - Competition
The
taxi pulled up to O'Rourke's Pub. "That will be
$10.00 ladies," announced the cab driver. Bridget
pulled out the diminishing money supply and handed $11.00 up
to the cabbie.
"Sorry to cut you short on the tip. We'll a
little low on funds."
The cab driver took the money and stuffed it in his shirt
pocket. "That's okay, ladies. Good luck
tonight."
"Thanks," said Lesley. The girls scooted out
of the back seat of the cab and walked over to the pub,
Bridget, as usual, carrying the back pack. "Here
goes," said Bridget as she glanced at Lesley.
Lesley looked back and gave a little nod. Bridget took
a deep breath and opened the door.
The pub was relatively large and mostly dark wood. A
bar stood to the left of the door on the far wall.
On the back wall was a small raised platform with the
karaoke machine sitting to the right of the stage, operated
by a young guy in long hair and a Corrs tee-shirt. The
room was crowded with wanna be singers, each with a small
contingent of fans. The girls scanned the room,
looking for someone to talk to about the karaoke
competition. A older stocky man, hair and beard
lightly sprinkled with gray, came over to them. He
pulled up the clipboard we
was carrying and addressed the girls.
"You two here to watch the karaoke contest or
participate?"
Bridget answered, "I'm here to watch my sister compete.
I'm Sheila Murphy and this is my older sister Shauna."
The man looked at both girls carefully, making Bridget
nervous. "You have any ID or proof of age?"
he asked.
Bridget pulled off the back pack and set it on the floor.
"Right here." She knelt down and made a
pretense of looking through the back pack, pockets first and
then the main section. She started slowly, trying to
portray confidence that she knew where the identification
was. Then she gradually became more frantic, pawing
through everything, rechecking pockets. She then
looked up at Lesley. "Did you remember to get the
wallets off the dresser in the motel this morning?"
Lesley, used to the routine, responded, "No."
Bridget stood up and put on her best apologetic look.
"I'm sorry, we lost our IDs. We must of left them
in the motel before we took the bus here from Boulder.
My sister is 19, I assure you. She been practicing for
weeks for this competition."
The man studied Lesley carefully. The girls could see
him ponder his options, nervous yet hopeful he would buy
Bridget's story. "All right," he finally
said, "you can compete. You'll be the last one on
the list. We'll be starting in about half an hour."
The man wrote down the name Bridget had given for Lesley and
walked back toward the stage.
Bridget let out a short sigh of relief. She then
picked up the back pack and handed it to Lesley.
"You better go change."
Lesley took the back pack. "I'm getting tired of
constantly changing clothes in rest rooms."
Bridget quipped back. "Here's an incentive for
you. Win tonight and you won't have to for a long time
to come."
"That does seem to be a good reason to win this
thing." Lesley turned and head to the ladies
room, which was to the right of the entrance.
She quickly changed into the stolen outfit. She got
out her hairbrush from the back pack and began to make her
hair presentable. She regretted shoplifting the outfit
but hoped to make it up to the store somehow. She
pulled out the eye make up kit and began touching up the
makeup she already had on. That done, she
decided that she had better warm up her voice for the
competition. She ran through the exercises that her
voice teacher had drilled into her. She ended with
scales, up and down, gradually reaching higher with each
upward swing.
"Girl, you got any top to that voice?"
Lesley whirled to her right. She saw for the first
time a slender black lady, looking to be in her early
twenties, taller than her, with braided hair hanging down to
her shoulder. A little surprised, Lesley
hesitantly responded. "I can reach a B above high
C."
"Listen," the black woman, "I don't
understand the technical stuff but you are good. You
maybe almost as good as me. But remember, Keisha
Abbot is the queen of the Denver karaoke scene. I hope
you don't mind coming in second. It stills pay
$500."
Lesley was taken aback by the swaggering confidence, the
conceit of Keisha. She thought to herself that this
woman had never had to sing for up to an hour, over a
symphony orchestra, to hundreds of people at a
time. "We'll just have to see how things go won't
we?" she said with her politest smile.
"Yes, we'll see. As usual, I'll be out there
looking for whose coming in second." Keisha
finished washing her hands and left. Lesley,
internally steaming, set her jaw, picked up the back pack
and strolled out into the pub. She spotted Bridget
sitting at a table near the center of the crowd. She
threaded her way through the tables and plopped in the empty
seat next to Bridget.
"You ready for this?" asked Bridget.
"More than ready," answered Lesley. "I
just met the competition, the queen of the Denver karaoke
crowd."
"Did she look tough?" said Bridget, again a bit
nervous.
"Let's just say she is very confident. However,
she came off a bit cocky. I think she needs to be
taken down a peg or two."
Lesley picked up a stapled set of papers on the table and
started looking at it. She knew from her previous
karaoke competitions back home how things ran. She was
not about to tell Bridget that she had been doing karaoke
since she was 10 and had never lost. She was looking
for one song in particular, one she had done dozens of
times, one that should be on any karaoke machine in an Irish
pub. She found in quickly on the second page.
She then tossed the list back on the table.
"Know what you're going to sing?" asked Bridget.
"Nailed it down," Lesley replied.
At that moment, a black-haired, clean-shaven man, tending
just a little to the portly side, came up on the stage and
walked over to the microphone in the middle. The
crowd, buzzing noisily before, became quiet, looking at the
him. "Good evening ladies and gentlemen, I'm
Patrick O'Rourke, the owner, operator, bartender and bill
payer of this fine establishment." The opening
remark got a brief laugh. Smiling broadly, Mr.
O'Rourke continued. "I'd like to welcome you here
tonight to our bimonthly karaoke competition. As you
all know, the prizes are $1,500, $500, and $100. That
means all of you have to eat and drink $2,101 worth tonight.
The rules are simple. We have on the tables a list of
the karaoke songs our machine has. Each person gets
one song. Just come up, give the song number to Mike here,
then come to the mike and give the best you got. We
have three judges tonight, Sara Connelly, the chorus
director for a championship high school chorus, Tim Martus,
a local theater director, and yours truly. We will
pick who we think the best singer is by mental processes too
complicated to explain.
Basically, we're going to go with our guts. So good
luck to all of you out there and let's get started."
Mr. O'Rorke exited the stage and headed to the left of it,
sitting at table with a man and an woman, whom the girls
assumed were the other judges. The man who met them at
the door, came to the microphone, looked at his clipboard
and called the first name. "Nathan Adams, you're
first."
A young man, with slicked back black hair, came on stage,
gave his number to the Mike at the karaoke machine and then
took center stage. The music came on to "Jailhouse
Rock" and the man went into his Elvis routine.
Bridget felt he had the moves down, particularly the hip
wiggle, but his voice was thin and reedy. She
dismissed him as not serious competition.
The acts went on, some good, some okay and some just plan
road kill. Two other Elvis impersonators came on, one in a
black jumpsuit and virtually no talent and another in a
white jumpsuit with a cape, which would look good on a man
two sizes smaller. Bridget chuckled at the thought
that the second man had eaten too many peanut butter and
banana sandwiches in pursuit of his idol. There were
numerous country acts, with imitators of Dolly Parton, some
of them even as buxom as the real thing, short LeAnn Rimes
copies, a Loretta Lynn by way of Sissy Spacek, at least one
Garth Brooks complete with black hat, and a muscular guy
with a lousy rendition of "Achy Breaky Heart."
Lesley was impressed with one girl who did a good rendition
of Emilylou Harris' "Down at the Twist and Shout."
A few rock and rollers took there shots. At least two
Mick Jagger wannabees took the stage, one with
"Satisfaction", the other with "Jumping Jack
Flash" and neither with the edginess of the true
article. Another tried to be Jim Morrison, but to
Bridget's mind, couldn't hold a candle to him. The
next guy tried "Candle in the Wind" but Lesley
figured she could easily blow out his candle due to his
limited vocal range. A Ricky Martin type character
tried "La Vida Loca" complete with dance moves,
but ended up tripping over his feet and landing head first
into the judges table. He left quickly, not even
trying to finish the song. A few rap artists took
their chances but Bridget could see the judges were bored by
them and unimpressed. There was, of course, a few Brittany
and Christina followers. One tried "Genie in a
Bottle' with a harem costume, but the effect was ruined by
the fact that her stomach was nowhere near as flat as
Christina's. It kept jiggling for a couple seconds
every time the woman stopped her harem moves.
As each contestant left the stage, Bridget felt more and
more confident. None of the contestants, to her mind,
had come close to Lesley's gift. She was trying to
guess what it would cost to fly two to New York, with one
going on the London. The list of remaining contestants
seemed to be dwindling. The announcer came forward to
announce the next act. "Ms. Keisha Abbott."
At that announcement, quite a few of the people in the
audience started clapping. Bridget began to get
concerned again. Lesley, however, sat placidly,
sipping water, appearing calm amidst the clamor.
Keisha came up to the karaoke machine, gave her selection to
Mike and then strolled over to the microphone, brimming with
the sense that she owned the stage. The music came one
and she launched into "I Will Always Love You."
She did it with passion and power, seeming as if she could
take Whitney Houston's place at any time. She hit the
last notes solidly, with barely a quiver. The room
broke out into loud applause when she finished, with a few
whoops thrown in. Bridget was now very worried.
The woman had been good, very good. She leaned over to
Lesley. "Think you can top her?"
"Piece of cake," answered Lesley, still
maintaining a placidity that surprised Bridget. The
announcer stepped up to the mike. "Ms. Shauna
Murphy."
Lesley got up. "Good luck," Bridget called
out. Lesley serenely stepped up on the stage and gave
her selection to Mike. Mike looked puzzled. From
Bridget's prospective, he seemed to be questioning whether
Lesley was sure about her selection. Lesley seemed
firm and Mike gave in. Lesley then calmly walked over
to the mike, brought down to her level, gathering herself
into a sense of complete composure.
Bridget sat there, anxious for the song to start. When
it did, she was puzzled. It was slower than most of
the songs of the night, calmer. She felt Lesley had to rock
the place to win. This song did not seem to be the one
that would do it. Then Lesley started to sing.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling.
Bridget buried her face in her hands. A ballad!
She was singing a ballad! Bridget could fell the money
slipping away. She thought they would be lucky to get
$100.
From glen to glen and down the mountain side. The summer's
gone and all the roses falling, Tis' you, tis' you must go
and I must stay.
But come ye back when summer's in the meadow, Or when the
valley's hushed and white with snow
I'll be there in summer or in shadow, Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny
Boy, I love you so.
Bridget slowly brought her face out her hands, drawn by the
quiet power of Lesley's soprano. She glanced around
and saw the almost everyone else was enraptured, caught in
the spell that Lesley was weaving with
her voice, her conveyance of the emotion to the center of
each listener. Bridget noticed that some of the
people, the older ones particularly, seemed to moisten
around the eyes, a couple even rubbing them.
But when ye come, and all the flow'rs are dying
If I am dead as dead as I may well be.
Ye'll come and find the place where I am lying
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
Lesley's voice began building, reaching higher and stronger,
aiming for the climax , the emotional release of the words.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me,
An all my grave will warmer, sweeter be,
For you will bend and tell me that you love me,
And I will sleep in peace until you come to me.
Lesley ended on a high note, a note no one else had reached
that night, and held it for a few extra beats before
stopping. She then stood there with a look that
Bridget could hardly described. It seemed to be an
expression of utter calm and confidence, a sense that Lesley
knew she had given all she had, that she had nailed the
song, and the audience. The moment of the expression passed
as the thunderous applause broke out, with whooping and
hollering that seemed ready to burst the doors and windows
of the pub. Bridget suddenly realized she was
standing, applauding as loudly as she could, joining in the
hollering. Lesley started smiling broadly, warmly,
charming the audience even more. She stood there for a
few minutes, basking in the glow. She had missed that,
even though it had been only four days since the Los Angeles
concert. Gradually, the applause wound down, the
audience began sitting and Lesley stepped off the stage to
take her seat.
Bridget leaned over again, "That was a gutsy
choice there. What made you try it?'
Lesley took a sip of water and leaned back in her chair.
"I figured that in an Irish pub, it might be best to
give them an Irish song."
"Well, you got that one right." Bridget felt
some respect for Lesley for showing her showmanship and her
skill. She felt more comfortable now, more
hopeful
Just then, Mr. O'Rourke came back to the stage.
"The other judges and I have made our decisions.
In third place, for his 'Jailhouse Rock', Mr. Nathan
Adams."
The audience applauded as the black haired man came up to
collect an envelope. As soon as he left, Mr.
O'Rourke spoke again. "In second place, for her
powerful rendition of 'I Will Always Love You', Ms. Keisha
Abbot."
Keisha came up, with a smile that could not conceal her
bitter disappointment. As she turned to walk away, she
gave Lesley and Bridget a stare filled with anger and
bitterness. Bridget shuddered a little, reacting to
the stare. Then Mr. O'Rourke called attention to
himself again. "And in first place, the winner of
$1,500 in cash, Ms. Shauna Murphy."
The room again exploded in loud applause from almost every
corner. Lesley rose and walked to the stage, beaming from
every pore. She stepped on the stage, shook Mr.
O'Rourke's hand, and took the envelope.
She started to go back to Bridget when Mr. O'Rourke tapped
her on the shoulder. She turned, wondering what else
was coming.
"One final thing which is a tradition in our karaoke
contests, an owner's privilege if you might. Any woman
winning the contest, particularly the pretty ones, get their
picture taken kissing the cheek of the handsome owner of
this establishment, said picture to remain on the wall next
to the bar until the next contest."
Lesley laughed and got into the spirit of the occasion.
The man with the clipboard came out with a camera. Mr.
O'Rourke leaned over and Lesley kissed him on the cheek
while the flash of the camera went off. Mr. O'Rourke
insisted on another picture, with his arm around Lesley's
shoulders, both broadly smiling. Lesley then walked
back to the table and the crowd began breaking up. She
handed the envelope to Bridget who opened it and quickly
counted 15 $100 bills. "I never knew Ben Franklin could
look so lovely, particularly in multiple sets," she
said.
Lesley leaned back again in her chair, finishing her water.
"Well, I guess we can go on to the next step."
Bridget looked over at Lesley. "You really came
through. I never heard anyone sing like that in my
life. You must be a witch. You had this place
spellbound."
Lesley laughed. "I've been called a lot of things
included some that rhymed with witch. But I've never
been called a witch before."
"Well,
you deserve whatever title you want. Why don't we
celebrate with some dinner?" Bridget turned and
motioned to a waitress how came over. Bridget asked,
"Can we get something to eat."
"I don't know," the waitress responded, "the
kitchen is about the close." Mr. O'Rourke came
over at that moment and clapped the waitress on the
shoulder. "Give these ladies whatever they want.
Anyone who can
sing 'Danny Boy' like that deserves to feast like a queen.
And, by the way girls, the meal's on me." The
girls sat back pleased at the accolades and the owner's
prerogative. The waitress fetch two menus from the
front and brought them back. The girls perused them,
carefully looking over their choices.
"I'll have a Shepherd's Pie," announced Lesley.
"I'll take the corned beef and cabbage," Bridget
said.
In a few minutes, the food, steaming hot, came out.
The girls dug in, savoring the best food they had eaten
since the start of their adventure. They cleaned off
every conceivable bite and sat back, full and smiling.
"Well, it's time to get out of here and find a nice
motel for the night," said Bridget.
"Where do we go?" asked Lesley.
"Let's check with the locals," suggested Bridget.
She got up and saw Mr. O'Rourke behind the bar, cleaning up.
She put on the back pack and walked over, knowing Lesley
would be right behind her.
"Mr. O'Rourke," she called. The owner looked
up and smiled when he saw the girls who called to him.
Bridget kept on. "I want to thank you for
treating us to dinner. That was a lovely thing to
do."
"Well," Mr. O'Rourke responded roguishly, "I
can never do too much for such lovely ladies."
"I would like to just ask two more favors from
you," Bridget said. "First, could you give us
change for one of these bills so we can pay the
cab?" Bridget held out one of the $100 bills.
"Done," Mr. O'Rourke responded. He took the
bill, rang open the cash register at the back of the bar,
and came back with five $20 bills. Bridget took them
with a gracious smile and tucked them back into the
envelope.
"Second, it's getting a little late to get back to
Boulder tonight. Could you suggest a hotel or motel around
here?."
"Sure. There's a nice establishment about eight
blocks from here, called Fitzgerald's. They'll
give you and nice clean room with no noise and not
overcharge you in the process. Any cab driver will
know it. Head on off. I'll call ahead and get
you a room."
Bridget was surprised at the kindness. She got an
inkling of the influence and power of Lesley's voice and
charm. She turned to Lesley, who had followed the
entire conversation. "Looks like you have won
yourself a true fan there, Lesley. You apparently have
a great effect on older men."
Lesley laughed, giddy at the success of the evening.
"Let's get going before the spell wears off."
The girls left the pub, laughing and giggling. Bridget
waved down a cab and they both got in. In a few
moments, they got out in front of a modest, but stylish
hotel. Bridget handed the cab driver a $20 and refused
any change. The cab driver thanked her profusely and
drove off. The girls walked into the bright lobby and
went to the reception desk that was to the left of the door.
"Do you have a room for one night?" asked Bridget.
"Are you the Murphy sisters?" asked the man
handling the desk.
"Yes," said Bridget as Lesley stood quietly by.
"Your room has been arranged. It will be
$85.00 for a double for one night, plus tax. You have
Room 215. Just the take elevator up to the second
floor and turn left, it will be on your left."
The man hand Bridget a card that looked like a credit card.
Bridget looked at it, puzzled at its purpose. Lesley
took the card out of her hand. "Thank you,"
she said to the clerk. She then walked to the
elevator, Bridget following.
"What was that he handed us?" Bridget asked.
"The room key," answered Lesley. "You
just stick this in a slot in the door and the door
opens."
"Boy, technology keeps getting ahead of me."
The girls found the room and Lesley opened the door.
They walked into cool comfort. Bridget was amazed at
the luxury. Lesley, used to such things, found the
place to be pleasant without being ostentatious.
"I better try calling my parents to let them know I'm
all right," Lesley said. She felt that as soon as
she called her parents, she could tell Bridget the truth
about her name and her career. She walked over the
phone and read the instructions. Carefully dialing the
number, she waited anxiously for the call the go through.
Bridget tossed the back pack beside one of the beds and then
laid down on the one nearest the door. She located the
controls to the TV that stood in a cabinet oppose the beds
but refrained from turning it on while Lesley was using the
phone.
But Lesley was puzzled. The phone kept ringing at her
house but no one answered. She knew it would be
Tuesday morning at home. She thought her mother should
at least be up, getting breakfast ready. But after 20
rings, Lesley gave up and put the phone down.
Bridget looked at her sad expression. "Something
wrong?"
"There's no answer. I would think that my mother
at least should be there."
"Well, you can try again in the morning. Best
thing you can do is get a shower and a good night's sleep in
a warm bed. It beats last night's
accommodations."
Lesley laughed at Bridget's joke. She got up and then
a thought came to her head. "I just thought of
something. I have nothing to wear to bed."
"Got you covered," reassured Bridget. She
reached over and pulled the back pack up on her bed.
She reached in, searching and then pulled out a pair of
pajamas. She tossed them to Lesley and then set
the back pack down on the floor. "Get that shower
but don't use all the hot water."
"Thanks," said Lesley, pleased at Bridget's
generosity. She walked into the bathroom and closed
the door. Bridget heard the shower come on. She turned
the TV set on, to do something until it was her turn to
shower. The TV came on to a news channel.
"More
on that kidnap."
Bridget flicked the channel selector, beginning her search
for a music video channel.
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