Just Listen(80)

There were two guys at a nearby table, playing cards. One of them, a redhead, said, "Do we look ready?"

"No."

"Well, looks can be deceiving. Because we are."

The other guy at the table laughed, throwing down a card as Ted shot him a look, then plopped on the couch, propping his feet on the table in front of him.

"So," Dexter said, sitting down on the opposite end of the couch. He put the phone on his knee, then picked up the battery, examining it. "What's new on the local music scene?"

"Nothing worth talking about," Owen told him.

"No kidding," Ted said. "You should see the frat-rock cover band that's playing now. Total Spinnerbait wannabes."

"Spinnerbait?" I said.

"They're a band," Owen told me.

"Hate Spinnerbait!" the redhead said, throwing down a card with a smack.

"Now, now," Dexter said, placing the battery carefully back on his phone. When he removed his hand, though, it fell off again, hitting the floor with a clack. He bent down, picking it up. "That's the thing that's great about this town," he said, putting it on again. "There are so many bands to choose from."

"Doesn't mean any of them can play," Ted said.

"True. But variety is always a good thing," Dexter said as the battery fell off again. He turned the phone over, trying to fit it on that way: no go. "In some places," he said, "you really only have a few choices and that"—the battery fell off again— "sucks."

"Dexter." I turned around to see a blonde girl sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. She was holding a yellow highlighter, and a textbook was open in her lap. I hadn't even seen her. "Do you need help?" she asked him.

"Nope. I'm good. Thanks, though."

She got up, sticking the pen in the book and the book under her arm, then walked over to him. "Give it to me."

"No, I've got it," Dexter said, turning the phone over again. "I think it's busted for good this time, actually. Maybe something broke out of it."

She held out her hand. "Let me try."

He handed it over. Then, as we all watched, she looked at it for a second, stuck the battery in, and pushed down. There was a click, and then a trilling sound as the phone came on. She handed it back to him, then sat down on the couch.

"Oh," he said, turning the phone over and staring at it. "Thanks, honey."

"No problem." She opened her book— Statistics for Business Applications, the spine said—then smiled at us. "I'm Remy," she said.

"Oh! Sorry!" Dexter said. He reached down, smoothing a hand over her hair. "This is Owen and Annabel. This is Remy."

"Hi," I said, and she nodded, pulling out the highlighter again.

"Remy's slumming, touring with us over her fall break," Dexter explained. "She goes to Stanford. She's very smart."

"Then why's she with you?" the redhead called out from the table.

"I have no idea," Dexter replied as Remy rolled her eyes, "but I think it's my mad make-out skills." He leaned over, planting a series of loud, sloppy kisses on her cheek. She winced, trying to push him away, but then he fell into her lap, his long legs splaying out across the couch.

"Stop," she said, laughing. "God."

From outside, we could suddenly hear more feedback, followed by booing. "Hopefully, they're cutting that set short," Ted said. "Would anyone else like to perhaps, I don't know, get ready for our show?"

"No," the redhead said.

"Absolutely not," the other guy added.

Ted glowered at them. Then he put down his beer on the table with a clank, walked to the door, and pulled it open. Once he was out in the hallway, he slammed it behind him. Hard.

The redhead threw down his cards. "Gin!" he said, lifting his hands over his head in a victory salute.

"Finally!"

"Aw, man," the other guy said. "I was close, too."

"Off," Remy said, and Dexter disentangled himself from her lap, getting to his feet. In the process, he dropped his phone again. This time, though, the battery stayed put.

"Ted's right," he said, although Ted was now gone. "We should get organized. Owen, you guys sticking around after?"

Owen glanced at me. "Sure," he said.

"Cool. We'll catch up with you then, all right?"

"Sounds good."

Then, everyone was suddenly in motion: Dexter sliding his phone into his pocket, the redhead pushing out his chair while the other guy gathered up the cards. Owen led me back into the hallway, where we passed Ted, who was leaning against the wall, still looking annoyed. Owen told him to have a good show as we passed, and he mumbled something in return, but I couldn't make it out.

On the way back to our booth, I glanced over at Clarke's table. She was still there, looking at the stage, but Rolly was gone. Oh well , I thought . I tried.

"All right," Owen said as we sat down. From the stage, I could hear the openers winding up their set.

"Now comes the real music. You'll like this."

I nodded, leaning back against the wall and tucking a piece of hair behind my ear. When I glanced over at Owen, he was staring at me. "What?" I said.