Drive(20)

I took my beer and nodded toward the smiling duo as they finally got the room’s attention.

“The song that gets most sung in US bars second to Happy Birthday,” I whisper-yelled to Lexi, who looked at me with interest.

“Really? Hotel California?”

“Yep.”

“You always did love the old stuff.”

I pointed toward the singing crowd. “I’m not the only one. And I love Don Henley’s voice. You know he’s my hero.”

She wrinkled her nose. “It’s okay, I guess.” We clinked glasses as she proposed a toast. “Here’s to the bee that stung the bull that got the bull a buckin’, and here’s to Adam who stuck it to Eve that got the whole world a fuckin’.”

“Amen!” A guy coughed out in a laugh next to us before he wedged his way into the bar to order his own drink. I swallowed back the brown liquid fire as she gave him a wary eye and tossed her own back.

“It’s Jameson.” She coughed and sputtered as the bartender had a good laugh at her expense.

“You wanted a hairy chest,” I said as I swallowed a long pull of beer to ease the burn.

“Happy birthday,” she beamed as she coughed back the rest and stacked our empty shot glasses on the bar.

The guy who’d overheard our toast turned sideways with a smile. He had curly blond cropped hair, amused blue eyes, and a sexy smile. He seemed tipsy as he ordered us two more of what we were having. I shook my head as Lexi gave me big eyes. We had about a hundred bucks between us, and I knew it was barely enough to hold us in cover charges and booze for the night. I relented, taking another shot of the amber fire, and slapped it back on the bar with a curt “Thank you.”

“Where are you guys going?” our new friend asked as Lexi gripped my arm to lead me out of the bar.

“We’re meeting our boyfriends up the street.”

She was pulling a fast Dear John, which I respected, because being tied down so soon in the night was far from what either one of us wanted.

“Well, hey, I’m playing tonight at Emo’s around midnight. Come see me.”

“Yeah, sure,” Lexi lied as he moved to stand in front of her, blocking her quick exit. His eyes flitted over her face as she looked up at him, annoyed. I stepped back because this was where my best friend shined. They stood eye to eye as I noticed the confidence he exuded. Maybe he wasn’t so much buzzed as he was cocky. No matter, he had no intentions of being brushed off. I smirked between the standoff, seeing Lexi’s eyes light slightly with interest. She was the definition of alpha female, and what I considered a good influence on me. She wanted to pave her way on her own as a stylist, just as I did as a journalist. Our only interest was in living it up at that moment. We were on the same page.

“I’m Ben.”

“And I’m not interested. Flat. Out. Not. Interested.”

“Wow.” He chuckled as he stepped to the side gracefully. “You’re kind of scary. But the offer still stands.” He pulled two admission cards out of his pocket and held them out for Lexi. She eyed them and then plucked them from his hand. “Thanks for the drink.”

“Welcome,” he mused.

Out in the street, we had a slight buzz as we spent our time hopping between bars, our heavy decision weighing on whether to pay cover or not. Instead of hitting the staples, we wandered into the dives that had no cover and slammed back more whiskey. By the time my birthday clock struck midnight, we were hoisting each other up and running on empty.

“Home?” I asked as we looked at our surroundings. We’d wandered off the beaten path to get some air, and it was as if both of us suddenly noticed we were no longer in Kansas. Lexi’s eyes widened as she pulled the tickets from her pants.

“Let’s go.”

“You didn’t even like him.”

“So what, it’s a free show.”

She hailed a cab and plucked the last of our cash from her pocket. We were only a mile away and Lexi cursed as she gave away half of our funds to the driver before we stood in front of the bar. It looked like a theater from the 1970s on the outside. There was a group billowing smoke out in front. With fuzzy vision through the cloud of nicotine, I spotted the square, yellow-lit marquee that showcased that night’s headliners.

“Dead Sergeants and Billow?” I coughed out. “Oh, I’ve got my last five bucks your curly haired mystery man is allll Billow.”

“You know better than to judge a book by its cover.”

“He’s so Billow,” I insisted, swaying into her. “Billow,” I seesawed my voice teasingly.

We bickered in drunken slurs until chord recognition covered Lexi’s face and we both stared wide-eyed at each other.

“No fucking way.”

“Float On” by Modest Mouse drifted out of the bar speakers overhanging the red tin awning. Both of us waited on the vocals, which had always tipped the scale for us. “It sounds good,” I told her.

She nodded. “Really good.”

“Come on!” I yanked her arm forward as we handed our tickets to the doorman, and I rushed her into the middle of the exceedingly packed bar. The air was filled with the smell of sweat and alcohol. My eyes went immediately to the man belting out the lyrics. And there in the middle of the stage was our curly haired stranger who was executing the song perfectly to a crowd full of raised fists.