The Gentleman's Guide to Vice and Virtue (Guide #1)(38)

“How’d you know he was a protestor?” Cash asked.

“I recognized the lost but judgmental look in his eyes,” Joey said. “My family used to protest outside Planned Parenthoods every Sunday after church. There’s nothing more awkward than asking for directions with a picket sign in your hand.”

“Interesting,” Cash said. “My family just went to the movies.”

They edged closer and closer to the door, which was monitored by a bald mountain of a man. The bouncer’s disgruntled attitude made two things very clear: he wasn’t easily fooled and he did not want to be working on a Sunday night.

“IDs?” he growled.

The bouncer checked Cash’s first without a problem, but paused as he inspected the others’, especially Mo’s.

“I was going through a really tough time,” she said.

The bouncer glared at their group suspiciously. “I’ve got a feeling these aren’t real,” he said.

Topher, Joey, Sam, and Mo all began to panic internally. Was he going to call the cops? Were they going to get arrested? Should they make a run for it? Was he as fast as he was big?

“Seriously, dude?” Cash said. “If we had fake IDs, do you think we’d be using them to see Rosemary’s Abortion in Bumblefuck, Missouri? There are casinos down the street.”

The bouncer shrugged—he had a point. “Go ahead.”

The gang followed Cash through the door, shocked they had actually pulled it off. Their anxiety was replaced with a strong burst of adrenaline.

“What a rush!” Mo said. “I get why people break the rules so much. I feel so naughty and alive!”

“Easy, Lizzie Borden,” Cash said. “Don’t get addicted to the dark side now.”

The warehouse was packed with more tough-looking people. The Downers Grove natives stuck out like a hand of sore thumbs and worried that at any moment someone would ask them to leave. There were no seats but a large standing area in front of a small stage flooded with purple light. Cash led his group to a crowded bar at the side of the warehouse.

“I’m gonna get a drink. You guys want anything?”

“We don’t drink,” Topher said.

“Like never?”

“I had a sip of communion wine once,” Joey said.

“Jesus, I’m traveling with the Brady Bunch,” Cash said. “I’m starting to think I was sent to you by a higher power. You guys need someone to teach you how to have fun, how to let loose, and—”

“How to destroy a national landmark?” Sam said. “Because you can check that one off the list.”

Cash smiled. “Exactly,” he said, and faced the bar. “Bartender? I’ll take a shot of Johnnie Walker Black!”

“All we have is Jim Beam,” the bartender said.

“Sold,” Cash said.

“Oh sure, he knows who those guys are but not Lewis and Clark,” Mo whispered to the others.

The actor slammed a ten-dollar bill on the countertop and threw his head back to take the shot. “I said goddamn,” Cash hollered as he recovered from the burn in his throat.

“Are you supposed to drink on your allergy medication?” Topher asked.

“No, but it makes drinking a lot more fun,” Cash said. “Gosh—I’m so ready to dance. Hope this band doesn’t suck.”

A trio of tattooed thirtysomethings in skinny jeans appeared onstage with their instruments. The crowd cheered and gathered around the front of the stage like a school of fish. Cash and the others were crammed among them like they were in a can of punk rock anchovies.

“Hello, St. Louis!” the lead singer greeted the crowd, which was impressive with the number of lip piercings he had. “We are Rosemary’s Abortion. We’re pro-choice and pro-rock-and-roll! Now let’s get this party started! One… two… three… four!”

The opening notes of their first song blasted through the speakers and the crowd went wild. Topher, Joey, Sam, and Mo had to cover their ears while their eardrums adjusted to the volume. They couldn’t make out a single lyric since the singer mostly yelled the song, but the fast-paced beat was hypnotic.

Everyone throughout the warehouse bobbed up and down excitedly to the beat of the song, but no one was more energetic than Cash. The others figured his whiskey was kicking in because the actor shimmied and shook like Jell-O in an earthquake. The crowd worried he was having a seizure and gave him space, but Cash just boogied his heart out even harder.

“I want whatever that dude is on,” said a spectator.

Cash’s erratic dance moves started gaining an audience of their own, and his friends worried they were about to have another McCarthy’s incident on their hands.

“What do we do?” Topher asked his friends. “He might get recognized if he causes a scene! If people start asking for pictures, we’ll be here until next week!”

“I’ve got an idea,” Sam said. “We’ll take the attention away from him.”

“How?”

“Like this!”

Sam jumped next to Cash and began dancing even crazier than he was. He moved like a go-go dancer undergoing electroshock therapy. His plan was effective, because all eyes quickly moved from the actor to the psycho dancing beside him.

“It’s working!” Joey said. “I’m going to help, too!”