I could feel the question in his eyes probing too deep. Yes, I defended Corsica, but it was only the decent thing to do. Alicia was also looking at me, but she was baffled and angry. Luckily, just as she opened her mouth to continue, the karaoke stage lit up.
"All right, folks, break's over and we're back to the singing. First up is Corsica Allen," the karaoke host introduced her.
All conversation was cut off as soon as Corsica opened her mouth. Alicia fought to find fault with her, but couldn't form a single word. Phillip watched me, but I ignored him. Corsica was there, breathing life into the song–and into me.
"This calls for another round," Phillip announced when Corsica returned to the table.
"What does?" she asked, her cheeks still bright from her performance.
"The fact that we have a star sitting at our table." Phillip winked, and she laughed at the blatant flattery.
I stood up and caught her elbow before she could sit down. "Actually, we've got to be getting back."
"Where?"
"Why?"
Phillip and Corsica asked at the same time. Alicia sulked at the end of the table, but she smiled when Bill and Tamara pulled Corsica away into a conversation.
"Have to get her home before she turns into a pumpkin?" Alicia snickered in my ear.
I shifted away from the arm she slid through mine. "What are you doing in a karaoke bar? Aren't you afraid this will tarnish your image?"
"You're right. So, why don't you and I move the party back to my place?" Alicia's gaze was too warm.
I patted her arm and tried to overhear the other conversation. Bill was always surprising us all with his vast and varied contacts. Now, he was lining up the right ones for Corsica to meet.
"He's semi-retired and doesn't need the money. They play here in town whenever the moods strikes, and I'm sure your singing would put him in the mood to be on stage again," Bill was saying.
Alicia sighed and rubbed her cheek on my shoulder. "Is he talking about that old trumpet player again?"
"He's a legend," I said.
"I prefer more modern stories," Alicia said. She looked up and noticed my gaze was riveted to Corsica. Her fingers tightened on my arm, but she finally pulled away. "Though it seems like you all can't let go of fairytales."
Bill exchanged contact information with Corsica and promised to put in a good word for her. He was already on the phone as the party broke up. Phillip offered to give her a ride home, but I swept an arm around her waist.
"Course, I forgot. You're staying at Xavier's place," Phillip said with a conspiratorial look at me.
Corsica brushed her hair back and laughed. "Oh, it's all right. I figured out that Penn is his son. You don't have to tiptoe around what I don't know."
Phillip smacked my shoulder. "What a relief."
Corsica was quiet all the way to the car, but as soon as I pointed us up the coast, she turned to me. "Phillip seems to believe the rift with your father will heal."
"Phillip's sentimental like that."
"Your friends take it for granted that you will get your fortune back. It's like they're waiting for everything to go back to normal."
They aren't the only ones, I thought. Then I gripped the steering wheel harder. "I can't go back, and I don't want anything that Xavier has to give me."
My statement was undermined by the fact that my father was at the house when we arrived. He was holding court at the kitchen island while his personal chef and two assistants unpacked crates of fresh groceries.
"Corsica, dear, your sauce was spectacular. We were just talking about it," Xavier said.
"So spectacular that you had to bring in professionals to save you?" she asked.
My father laughed and the sound grated my skin. "I just thought since everything is settling down a bit and we're all busy, it would be nice to have the kitchen fully stocked."