“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve just enjoyed the sleek sounds of Smooth Cat Slick! Let’s give it up for these four!”
The audience roared with applause as the quartet took their bows and headed offstage.
“That was awesome!” Jake said, slapping Frankie a high-five. Jake, ever the jazz enthusiast, lived for these competitions.
“Yeah, except for those sour notes in the last set,” Gina pointed out.
“Wasn’t me!” Jake said. “Kelly?”
Gina shook her head. “Nah. Not Kelly. It wasn’t in the soprano line.”
Quietly Kelly offered, “I think Frankie did it.”
Gina crossed her arms. “Yeah, Frankie, you.”
“Man, Gina, you’re harshing my mellow! You know I never goof up!”
“OK, not counting that time in Sanger. That was it.”
“Frankie!” Gina was practically scowling by now. “I distinctly heard four notes off in that set!”
“I’m telling you, I didn’t do it!”
“Not even once? C’mon, Frankie, fess up,” Jake cajoled, elbowing his friend in the ribs.
Gina looked down her nose at Frankie, sizing up his sincerity. She cleared her throat, attempting to sound authoritative.
“OK, OK! I may have messed up a little, but not four notes! Maybe once—in, uh, ‘Blue Moon.’”
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