'Absolutely not.'
'It's my solo song so you just have to stand there and look pretty' soothed Maria. Miranda glared at her. The lads were not listening, they were already claiming equipment to play with.
'One song' pleaded Maria.
Miranda huffed with impatience. She was not drunk enough for this. Maria knew her too well. She wouldn't participate if she had to play a starring role. Her mistake was to blink. In a trice, she was hauled up and onto the stage, protesting weakly. She'd like to know which rich man was worth this damn song and could she hit him over the head with a frying pan. But the others loved playing ABBA. The music started and she struck the pose, resigning herself to the inevitable, counting herself lucky that she'd put in ear plugs before the nonsense had started. This was the hazard of turning up to karaoke in a group of four. Sometimes being blonde was a lot of hard work.