Chuck paused and gave the camera a sly grin. Kira screamed a little. Jo shouted at the television, "Do it, already!" Palmer was so bored that he was on his phone, ignoring us. And I just sat there perfectly relaxed, calmly gripping my beer with enough force to shatter the glass.
Chuck reached into his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and stared at it for a few seconds. Then he faced the camera with a smile and said the most outrageous thing I'd ever heard in my life.
He said my name.
"The winner is Annalisa Ricci from San Jose, California."
I froze and stared at the television, too stunned to even let the news register. A dreamlike cloud wrapped itself around me, challenging me to accept the fact that the lead singer of the Fiery Boys had just invited me to tour with him. Kira and Jo were screaming, but I could barely hear them next to the dizzying vortex that was swirling around my head. Something was wrong here. My friends must have slipped something into my drink.
The crowd in front of Chuck kept applauding for what seemed like an hour. It went on and on and on in druggy slow motion while my name actually flashed at the bottom of the screen. I still didn't believe it-someone was punking me. They were just waiting for me to buy it, then the truth would be revealed and everyone would laugh.
So I sat there and let their joke play out, waiting for the inevitable resolution. Perhaps Chuck would say "LOL, just kidding," and then read the real contest results. Or this might be a fake video that Palmer had made to tease me. He enjoyed doing things like that. I scrutinized the screen to see if I could detect signs of a cheap video editing job, but the picture looked good, so this probably wasn't a prank. Besides, Palmer seemed just as surprised as I was. He even yelled at the television and warned the Fiery Boys not to mess with his girl. How quaint! He thought he had to defend me from them. As if I'd choose Palmer over anyone in the band. And it was starting to occur to me that I might actually get such a choice.
Jo slapped me on the back, which brought me back to reality. "Congrats, girl! I told you that picture would be a winner."
A winner? Impossible! It didn't make sense. After we'd taken those pictures at the bar last month, we sat at our table and reviewed them. All of them were so ridiculous that we simply couldn't choose. So we decided that each of us would choose the other's best shot. I picked the first picture of Jo, lounging against the bar. She looked good-sexy and desirable. The Fiery Boys would appreciate the fire in her eyes.