Page 347 of Call Me Baby 2: Side B

Teddy Vale steps out,

singing the next line I couldn’t.

“I’ll fight the cold…”

All the guests shoot to their feet,

breaking into applause.

But I’m standing electrocuted,

both halves of my heart shaking insane.

“Holy fucking shit,” I breathe out.

Teddy laughs as he climbs up the three steps in a black tuxedo, satin lapels, a single curl falling loose over his forehead, and he slides into the next verse—“—I’ll fight traffic, baby, don’t let me go…” a side-swipe across the polished wooden floor

with a silky, honeyed vibrato.

And I’m nothing.

I’m a puddle.

My brain’s empty.

I can look at nothing else.

Teddy Vale’s walking closer⁠—

two dark theatres for eyes,

jawline cut by sharp wings of an angel⁠—

and he takes

my fucking

hand.

“She says, you better not be late…”

he half-sings,

half-talks through my part.

Then croons the next line velvet⁠—

“I’m-on-my-way, baby, please wait…”

I blink.

It’s still him.

Still touching my hand.

The one I use to masturbate.

“Oh… my… God…”