“I don’t know, doll.” Harold shrugs as he puts down his mug. “Let’s have the jukebox or the crowd decide that. I figure as long as we don’t fall off the stage, they’ll love us.”
Grabbing on to the table for support, Harold gets up and makes sure his legs were up to the task. He extends his hand to Charlie and smiles.
“Well…” Charlie stared at his extended hand for a beat. Setting her mug aside, Charlie reached out and grabbed his hand, all while shaking her head. “God save me,” she muttered under her breath, grinning a little.
She was a little wobbly on her feet, and she gripped Harold’s sleeve for a moment.
“We doing a duet, then?” she asked another moment later.