Indeed, I saw quite a few golf shirts and, yes, sunglasses, in a huddle nearby.
“Where’s the yacht club?” I asked.
Lana gestured for me to follow her as she wound through the demolished seating to a partial bench choked by some scrub brush. She dusted it off with her free hand before sitting. “Over by the Tides. High-end stuff is always getting built in that area. The Ebb, private condos, is the newest addition.”
“Next is the Woods,” Clark added.
“What are they putting there?” I asked.
“It’ll be awful no matter what it is.” Lana sighed, taking a big gulp of one of the beers. “That’s guaranteed.”
Just then I heard music start up. A beat later I realized it was one of my favorites by the Powell Brothers, a band that was actually from Lakeview. I turned to see a trio was now on the platform. There was a girl playing the banjo. The guy beside her, whohad olive skin and shoulder-length hair, was in a leather-fringed vest I could only hope was being worn ironically. And finally, on the guitar, was Ben. My Ben. (What?)
OurBen. Funny, as one thing I liked about him was that he wasn’t like Colin, always drawing focus. Now I couldn’t take my eyes off him.
It wasn’t just that he was a great guitar player, clearly more skilled than the other two. (While the girl with the banjo was good, Fringe Vest seemed better at posturing than actually singing.) Ben, however, possessed a quiet confidence, like he knew there was no reason to showboat. When someone has real talent, it’s unmistakable. I’d had a feeling him playing just for me on the porch the night before was special. Now I was sure.
“Pretty amazing, huh?” Lana said now, into my ear. “Look. He hasgroupies.”
Sure enough, the front row of the growing crowd at the base of the platform skewed female. Some were bobbing their heads, while others held up phones. I thought of this moment being captured, posted, shared, liked, and commented on. Like it was happening in two ways, real and virtual, at the same time.
“Lana!” Cardoon, still in uniform, had joined us, a red cup in one hand. “Today was something, huh? You break your record?”
“Close.” She took a sip of her beer. “Another six-top and I would have.”
He grinned. “See! I told you it would be mutually beneficial. Imagine what else I might be right about.”
She rolled her eyes. “I saidclose,” she repeated.
“So I’ve been thinking,” he continued, undeterred. “About a way to slow the rush.”
“I’m listening,” Clark said.
But it was Lana who Cardoon was addressing when he said, “What if I texted you guys when the buses are departing? I could give a head count, party number. Might help organize the seating some.”
“Like an early warning system,” Clark mused. “I see it.”
“Right?” Cardoon motioned a hand at Lana. “Give me your number.”
“Yeah, Lana,” Clark repeated, now grinning himself. “Give him your number.”
I was brand-new to all this. But even I was surprised when she said, “And you’d remember to do that? Like, every bus?”
He put a hand on his heart. “Swear.”
A beat, during which the song finished. There was scattered applause, a couple of whoops.
“Fine.” Lana pulled her phone from her front pocket. Clark’s eyes widened as she swiped it open, then handed it over. “What?” she said. “It’s better than finding out at the door.”
As Cardoon took it, then began typing, I felt someone slide beside me on the plank. It was Ben, a bottle of water in one hand. He didn’t seem aware of the two girls trailing behind him, one redheaded, another with a ponytail, whispering to each other. But I was.
“You didn’t tell me you were in a band,” I said.
“I’m not,” he replied. “We just get together and play once in a while.”
“That’s not a band?”
“Not by my definition, no.”
