I stared at Maggie, stunned. I’d never seen her cry before. And I felt so much compassion for her in that moment. So fuckingmuch. Because she had feelings for him.Realfeelings. That much wasobvious.
If she didn’t, there’d be no problem at all. Just divorce his ass, or get an annulment or whatever, and be donewithit.
But she hadn’tdonethat.
“I guess that would depend,” I told her honestly, “on how much Ilovedhim.”
ChapterTwenty
Jessa
The Back Doorwas exactly that; a bar with its main entrance off a narrow, skeezy alley in back. Maggie and I arrived together for the Dirty show, walking in at the tail end of sound check, a giant bouncer who seemed to know Maggie letting us in. The first thing that struck me was how much smaller and danker it felt than it used to. The second thing was the smell; it smelled exactly the same. It was the sweet, slightly rank smell of decades’ worth of spilled beers seeping into softening wood and carpets that never fully dried, mixed with sweat andcologne.
It was a dive bar, really, and that’s what I’d always loved about it. A rotting old monument to the past, the Back Door was one of a very few bars in town where local, up-and-coming rock bands could still play. Dirty had gotten their start here; the owners had let them play and drink when they were still underage. Plus, they were affiliated with the Kings motorcycle club, so there was that connection. The owners also owned Misty’s, the strip club downstairs. As far as I knew, there was never any Misty; there was however a Bear and a Snake. Father and son, they were built like tanks and about as friendly to strangers, but as long as you had no problem with them—or the Kings—they had no problemwithyou.
Both Bear and Snake were longtime Dirty fans, and Bear’s wife, who was roughly the same size and build as Bear, had a long-standing crush on Zane. I was also pretty sure Snake was in love with Elle, since I never saw him as warm and fuzzy as when she walked in a room and started giving him shit. I had memories of Elle at age twenty, all pretty and badass in her leather miniskirt and sneakers, her platinum hair in braids, her electric bass slung over her shoulder, sneaking me—then age seventeen—into the Back Door by telling Snake I was her twin sister. I knew he didn’t believe it, since I was taller than her, even back then, and we really didn’t look alike. But I still remembered him letting me in, never taking his eyes off Elle, and never cracking so much as a hint of a smile as he told her, “So long as you play ‘Love Me Two Times’ for metonight,Elle.”
And they did. Dirty had made it a practice to come back here to play at least once every couple of years, and over the years, it had become tradition to close out every show at the Back Door withthatsong.
Now, as Maggie and I made our way into the bar, Aerosmith’s “Dude (Looks Like a Lady)” was cranked and my brother’s guitar tech, Jimmy, was center stage, doing his infamous Steven Tyler impression with the mic stand, lip-syncing the song for the amusement of the otherstagecrew.
I saw my guitar behind him, on a stand next to several others that belonged to my brother, and I got tinglies—and that nervous-sick feeling in my gut. The crew was working out the light show and as more lights came up, I saw the banners; big prints made from Katie’s portraits of the band members, even bigger than the paintings themselves, hanging along the back and sides of the stage. There was Jesse, and me, then Elle, Dylan, SethandZane.
So fuckingsurreal.
I took a deep, deep breath as Maggie pulled me up in front of the stage, where we found Snake. He gave me a giant hug and cracked a rare smile as he told me the band was backstage, and whatever I needed, just let him know. I thanked him and we applauded Jimmy’s performance. When Jimmy saw me, he flew down off the stage, spinning his ball cap backwards to give me a kiss. When he hugged me, he lifted me right up off the floor. “I’ve got you all set up,” he said in my ear as he put me back down on my feet, still wrapped around me. “Can’t wait to see you play tonight.” He held onto me for as long as Maggie put up with it, letting go when she peeledhimoff.
I just smiled. Jimmy had always had a bit of a thing for me, which he wasn’t shy about. He was sweet. Ididn’tmind.
“How’s it coming?” Maggieaskedhim.
“No worries, Maggs,” he said, hopping back up onstage. “We’ll make this shit look good.” I had no doubt thatwastrue.
Myself, I wasn’t quite sure how an entire Dirty show, typically destined for stadiums and giant arenas, was going to fit on that tiny stage, amps, egos and all, but I trusted that the crew had itcovered.
“Just make itsoundgood,” Maggie said to him. Then she looped her arm through mine and said, for my ears only, “Pretty sure Jessa can make itlookgood.”
“Oh,God.”
“Stillnervous?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t be,” she said, grinning. “Secret show… very little in the way ofexpectations.”
I rolled my eyes, not buying that for a second. “Right.”
Tonight’s show, like the others Dirty had played here—since signing their record deal—had only been announced a couple of hours before doors would open at nine o’clock, which meant it had just been posted on the old-school marquee that hung over the entrance. Already, people were accumulating outside; Jude had a bunch of security guys stationed in the alley, and they’d had to fish us through the crowd to get us in. And of course, word would getoutfast.
Bear, Snake and their staff would keep all the money from liquor sales and tips, money collected at the door would go to charity, and everyone was happy. That palpable electricity that always charged the air before a Dirty show could be felt, but it was definitely underscored by an unspoken sadness—at this show, Dirty was supposed to announce that Paulie was joining the band. Brody had booked the show while the band was in town, especially for thatreason.
Since that was no longer happening, they were donating the proceeds from ticket sales to the hospital where Paulie’s wife was receiving treatmentinstead.
I just hoped I could do my part and do honor to Paulie, since he couldn’t be here, without doing something ridiculous like fainting onstage. Though maybe that would hold a certain entertainment value of its own—make people feel like they’d gotten their money’s worth, andthensome.
* * *
The show soldout in twenty minutes—basically, as fast as the door staff could process people in. Within half an hour of the Back Door opening, the bar was at capacity. And I heard there were still a few hundred people hanging around on the block outside, hopeful they might squeeze in later, if enough people leftearly.
