I huffed and jabbed the screen.
How mean would it be to react with the eye roll emoji?
I wasn’t sure it would hurt him or take away the sting of his schemes. Still, the idea tempted me. There were worse things I could do. Public things.
The bartender slid me a plate of wings and set a glass of water on a napkin.
“Thanks,” I said. Maybe I was hangry. I needed to eat and make some money. I messaged a few clients. Nothing terribly exciting, although I did hit up a few who were into music stuff.
I didn’t want my clients using a band name to scout my location. Besides, in my mind, this group was just ‘Zack’s band.’ If they wanted people to remember their names, they ought to have branded better.
The lead singer announced, “Thanks for listening. We’ll be back after a quick break.”
I sat upright and clapped, one of the few in the bar who did more than a half-hearted hoot. What was wrong with this crowd? Zack’s band was great. The next round of darts could wait until patrons applauded the entertainment.
Zack gently set his guitar down and glanced in my direction.
If I wanted to talk to him, now was the time to do it. I straightened my spine and scrunched a napkin between my fingers, but to my surprise, he walked up to me first.
He half-sat on the stool next to me and kept one foot on the floor. “Hey,” he said.
“Hey,” I replied. A half-second of awkward silence bubbled into an eternity, so I held up a piece of chicken. “Would you like a wing?” They were bright orange but synthetically tasty.
“No, thanks.” He tapped his foot against the wood floors. “How was the rest of your New Year’s?”
“Good, and yours?” I nibbled on a wing, hoping the meat wouldn’t melt off the bone and smear sauce on my chin.
“Good, thanks.” He wiped his palm on his knee. Was he nervous?
“Your band is really good,” I said.
His mouth lifted on one side. “Thanks.”
“You don’t believe me?”
He shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. We enjoy it.” Scratching his ear, he glanced at the set. “Did you come to see us or…?”
“I had to pick up my car.” No other reason. Of course, I did walk in because I saw the hoodie on a bouncer. Whatever. I didn't come here for him. Or his band. “This was just a happy coincidence.”
“Right.” He frowned at the counter. “Sorry. I should’ve thought about how you’d get your car back after I drove you home.”
I sipped from my straw. “Please, you did me a favor. I probably owe you a drink.”
He squirmed and shot a nervous glance my way. “Actually, could you do something for me?”
