A long line of The Baby Owls fans were queued outside the Misty Cat, which had room for about two hundred when packed to capacity for a show. Glory craned her head. It was a veritable sea of plaid flannel and knit caps and hipster spectacles and big woolly hipster beards. The influx of faux lumberjacks (Fauxmberjacks?) and their dates (Lumberjills? Limberjills?) meant there wasn’t a spare parking space on the entire block.
Ping! An epiphany struck. “They look like owls! Like baby owls! Those round glasses above those woolly beards... They look like owls in a nest!” Glory breathed.
“Ooooohhhhh,” everyone said simultaneously, as they all stood up to look.
“Anyway,”Glenn continued meaningfully, and they all sat down hard again. “Sherrie already knows the dodge-the-ass-grabbers drill, and Glory, point out any culprits to me and I’ll have a stern word.” Glenn was like a grizzly bear when it came to people he cared about. “Truck will escort the customer out, if such action is warranted.No taking matters into your own hands.It could get hairy and we know how to handle this. Got it?”
“Got it,” she said humbly. In other words, no throwing her own punches, regardless of how good she was at throwing punches.
Truck Donegal nodded along, too. He’d actually heckled Glory once or twice at open mic nights, but that was practically part of the drill and she could handle that, no sweat. He was a peer of Jonah’s and Eli’s and he privately considered Glory sort of like that YouTube video of the little cat who hadn’t hesitated to smack the crap out of an alligator on its snout, driving it back into the water.
He’d also long known that messing with Glory would mean messing with Eli or Jonah or both.
“And in case things get truly hairy,” Glenn continued, “I understand Deputy Barlow will be here. With a date.” He glanced at Sherrie, who nodded. “He’ll be off duty, but of course it’s always useful to have someone present who can get someone in a full nelson as quick as a wink.”
Ooof. Herheartfelt like it had just taken a punch.
Of course everyone knew Eli’s business. Small towns.
But was Eli making a point by bringing Bethany?
Or was he bringing Bethany as insurance against Glory straddling him out of the blue? Given that it must seem rather hard to predict what Glory would do lately.
She could feel a flush begin to paint her from her collarbone upward.
Whyshouldn’the be able to just enjoy The Baby Owls concert? She could hardly object to his presence. Then again, why couldn’t he do it alone?
“We’ll put Eli and his date in the little V.I.P. Section,” Glenn continued. The “V.I.P. section” was basically a roped-off section near the counter, complete with some of those comfy stools, one of which Mick Macklemore had nearly brained Eli with. “We’ll bring those folks in through the back. Eden and Annelise will be there. And your friend Franco Francone called ahead, Glory, to see if we could hold a spot for him, too.”
Well. It was shaping up to be an interesting evening. “What makes himmyfriend?”
“I saw that fella preening onstage next to you after the brawl the other night. He gave you his digits on a napkin. He’s got himself a crush, kiddo,” Glenn confirmed.
“He’s the sort that can’t go three seconds without attention from a good-looking woman,” Glory asserted.
“Maybe so. But tag, you’re it.”
Franco Francone wasn’t giving up, which was interesting. His presence would go some way toward ameliorating the fact that Eli would be on a “date.” She’d never realized how much she hated that word.
“Okay,” Glenn said with finality. He leaned back and looked at the clock. “Aaaaaand... Break! Truck, get the doors!”
Truck threw open the doors and they began funneling in the crowd.
Within a half hour, the Misty Cat was teeming and actual conversation would only be held either mouth to ear or shouted from a position of inches away. Glory was kept hopping, but she did manage to see a few of her friends get in, like Casey Carson and Kayla Benoit, Monroe Porter, the death-metal drummer, and Marvin Wade, who had come to dance, of course.
And the drunker everyone got, the louder it got.
She was collecting money from a bearded guy, who looked like the type to get affectionately handsy when he was drunk, and handing off his beer when she saw Franco Francone slip in through the back hallway, ushered in by Glenn. She only had time to toss him a quick wave, which he intercepted with one of his white grins.
No sign of Eli yet.
And fifteen minutes before showtime, there was absolutely no sign of the band.
Fifteen minutesaftershowtime there was still no sign of the band.
Twenty minutes after showtime, when there was still no sign of the band, was when the crowd really started to get restive. In a very peculiar way.
“HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO! HOO!”
