Overkill

06 | block me out

"I thought you didn't like karaoke."

"I've turned a new leaf."

Not that Moxie should have been surprised in the slightest. After all, she had witnessed the great turning of the tides during MARS' celebratory Grammys party last year when both Stevie and Maverick welded themselves to the karaoke machine. Even when she had suggested they let someone else go, like any one of the other people present, all of whom were great singers, Moxie swore that at least one of them—maybe even both—had growled at her.

Safe to say she retreated after such atrocities.

Mick was particular about where he sang karaoke. Open mics were not allowed due to the unfortunate attention they attracted, and with all of the guests present that night, going somewhere public and out in the open was completely out of the question. The room he rented for the night was private and complete with a spread of food and drinks. Moxie certainly wasn't going to complain about the latter, even if she wanted nothing more than to take a nice hot bath.

While it probably wasn't considered the best, bougie karaoke had a certain charm.

It should be said that a person's environment often contributes to their general mood, and now that Moxie had transferred from work mode to play mode, she was notably more in relaxation mode. While karaoke required putting on a show to a certain degree, it wasn't for the sake of someone else's fulfillment. They were all there to just have a good time, and there was no shortage of good energy to go around.

Moxie didn't even think that hard about how glossy Cruella's red lipstick was.

(Get it the fuck together, King.)

"You can always tell how high class a place is if they—yup, they have the Shrek soundtrack, besties!" Stevie whirled around with infectious excitement. The rest of the room couldn't help but smile up at her. Stevie Kealoha certainly had her own charm as well.

"Incredible." Jun tore the mic out of her hand before Stevie could protest, and it was handed off smoothly to Mick who selected the first song that appeared as a choice.

Mick pointed at Jun and winked. Moxie wanted to slap him and remind her brother that Jun was taken and in love. (Barf.) "This one goes out to our friends at Capri Sun."

"That's..." The MARS guitarist deflated. "That's my job."

All Star was a fitting choice for Mick, and he sang his heart out as if his life depended on it, even after performing for nearly two hours. When he was done, complete with a standing ovation from the audience, he passed the torch along. Stevie nearly tore his arm off as she took back what was rightfully hers. Nobody dared to argue with her when she took center stage.

"I don't know how she does it."

Moxie turned around. Cruella sat there on the bench behind her, sipping on some kind of pink bubbly from a stemless wine glass. Her partner-in-crime, Bronx, had detached himself to pick at the food on the other side of their reserved karaoke room.

The room was relatively dark, aside from the glaring light of the TV and flashing bursts of color that danced around them. Now that she was standing there and admiring it all, Moxie realized how similar it felt to being on stage, except for the lack of exposure and added intimacy. Thankfully, she wasn't the sole focus under these spotlights.

"Who?"

Cruella pointed. "Stevie. She's so... effortless at everything she does. If she were anyone else it would be a little nauseating."

Although Moxie wasn't a shy person, the many shots she had taken so far that night didn't hurt. She joined Cruella on the padded bench that rested up against the back wall, sitting a little closer than she maybe would or should have. Making sure she could hear her over the sound of the singing, as beautiful as it was since it was Stevie singing after all, was a good excuse she took advantage of.