“You have to say stupid,” Dizzy said. “Remarkably stupid,” Kristin added. “Remarkably stupid?” Travis asked. “I think atrocious vomit would be more appropriate,” Nick added. “No, no,” Kristin disagreed. “Atrocious is too mean. It’s just stupid.” Dizzy agreed, “Yeah, if it was a bad evening gown, you could say atrocious. But that’s just a shirt.” Kristin, “A stupid shirt.” “Okay, okay,” Travis relented, “Remarkably stupid.” He stood up and made his way over to the table across the bar, tapped Bobby on the shoulder, and regretted it the moment that he did because when she turned around finally he could see she was adorable. He sighed, “I’m here to tell you that that’s a stupid shirt.” Bobby looked stunned for a moment and then asked above the noise, “What?” because she was really sure she’d not heard Travis correctly. “I’m sorry.” He snapped his fingers—remembering the ‘remarkably’ part again. “I mean, I’m supposed to tell you that it’s a remarkably stupid shirt.” She stared hard at him, let him sweat, calmly observing his facial expression. There was something objective about it, as though what he had said was not to be taken personally. He could just as easily have said, “You are a girl,” or “You have brown hair.” But he’d definitely said that her shirt was remarkably stupid. And she couldn’t see the point. Travis turned slowly to look over to his table for help. Nick, Daphne and Kristin were all smiles. Nick mimed a drinking motion and gives Travis a thumbs up. When he turned back, expecting a face full of her hand, he was shocked to see Bobby smiling. She shrugged, “It’s my boyfriend’s shirt.”

It was a month and a half later that Bobby leaned on the bar next to Travis and inquired with a challenge, “What’s your name?”

A picture of her gigantic boyfriend standing right behind them popped into his head. *Oh well, here we go.* “Asshole. Asshole Fleeting.” He held out his hand with a smile. “Nice to meet you, Asshole. I’m Bobby.” “Travis.” “OK.” “And I am really sorry if I embarrassed you or something. It was just a stupid dare.” “No. It’s fine. I mean, even for a dare it was kind of lame.” She lets that sink in. “But it was a stupid shirt.” Travis shrugged. “I didn’t really think so.” “Uh. That’s not exactly what you said.” “Long story.” Bobby nodded. “So I can wear it out again with approval?” “Only if you want me to tell you how stupid it is again.”

It was another two weeks before Travis saw Bobby at a party and they had a normal conversation about things other than dares and stupid clothing. And now, today, “So are you picking on the bartender or picking her up?”

“As a matter of fact…” he looks to see that the girl is out of earshot. “I’ve been regaling her with stories from my childhood.”

“I bet they’d be really scary.” Bobby says, nodding. Turning to her friends behind her she says, “Travis, this is Josh and Aaron.”

Travis shakes their hands in turn from his stool. “Hey,” he says, wondering to himself which of the two is inevitably chasing after Bobby. After she left her boyfriend with the apparently terrible fashion sense, she could always be found with a harem of guys.

“You here by yourself?” asks Bobby.

“Me and my best friend, Beer.” The bartender, who had come over to get orders from Bobby’s crew, makes a disapproving face.

“We were just gonna’ play some pool.”

“You know, that sounds good, but I was planning on catching a band at the Theater.”

“Okay, Asshole, suit yourself. But come to a party at our apartment complex Saturday.”

Josh chimes, “It’s gonna’ be huuuge, dude.”

“Seems kinda’ dead in town for a party.”

“Trust me. We got three bands and twenty kegs comin’. All night Saturday and as long as we can go on Sunday. They even got noise permits for the bands.”

“All right, then. See ya’ there.”

“Look what I found.”

Sandy detaches herself from Nick and latches onto Travis, leaning herself up on the railing of the landing. Travis puts an arm around her, and then notices she is just wearing a short dress with her shoulders bare. He stands her up for a moment, takes off his leather jacket and drapes it over her shoulders. She smiles and snuggles under his arm again. Travis is unnerved by the feeling of breath on his neck. He tries harder to keep his cool, but he can’t help wanting to attack her in a fury of passion.

“Hey,” Nick says again to the crowd on the landing. “This is Erica. Erica…” Nick pauses.

“This is everybody.”

“Hey everybody,” Erica says quietly.

Eric tries to wave, but can’t quite get his head out of his hands. Kristin, Ian and Travis all nod politely, though. “How the hell’d you meet this scoundrel?” Travis asks Erica. And he really wants to know. He’d never known Nick to just pick up a stranger at a party.

“We were in Studio together Spring quarter,” Nick answers.

From the looks of cradled heads on shoulders, they would either be partaking in carnal activities or taking care of a lost soul for a night. He could never take advantage of a drunk woman—tipsy, but not drunk. As if sensing his concern, Sandy looks up for a moment into Travis’s eyes. “I broke up with Jason,” she says, sad and as if no one else is around. Ian and Nick exchange amused glances as Travis just smiles and wraps his arm tighter around her. She puts her head back down on his shoulder, obviously tired. Moonlight falls across the carousel in Travis’s mind for a moment. Kristin looks at Travis with one eyebrow raised when he looks back up, questioning his motives. With his left arm draped over Sandy, though, Travis just gestures to Eric on the stairs. “You got your own to take care of,” he answers. Eric waves with one hand, keeping his head down in the other. “I’m f-f-fine,” he mutters.

“C’mon,” Kristin urges, tugging on his arm. “If you don’t get up and move around you’re gonna’ get sick.”

Eric makes an incredible effort and stands up. His eyes widen brightly, and he starts to sit back down before Kristin grabs his arm and pulls him to her, his arm over her shoulder. He leans heavily, but seems to be a little better off for standing.

Daphne and John come gaily stomping down the stairs, laughing at some joke they were sharing. Each of them is carrying three beers apiece, bringing the music from upstairs down with them in the silent moment on the landing. “Who wants beer?” John calls jovially. Ian and Travis each take one.

Dizzy and John take up position in the circle between the now symbiotic beings of NickandErica, KristinandEric and TravisandSandy. “Doh-see-fuckin-doh!” John yells. The conversation drifts as the music waterfalls down the iron stairs, all of the sound carried out onto Milledge avenue, out into the city lights, out into a sleepy world. The laughter and jests cool the late summer evening. There beneath the katydid moon there is hesitation, knowing glances and simple talk that lingers into the early hours of the night like a lullaby. Settling on the landing, a comfort of contentment comes to rest on the iron, matches without pairs, pairs without matches. Travis smiles quietly and lets himself slip out of the conversation to feel Sandy’s breath on his neck. He is comfortable in support, feels meaningful under her weight.

“Good luck,” Travis says to Kristin.

“What’s up?” Nick asks as Kristin and Eric make their way up the stairs, leaning on each other.

Travis turns from watching the pair to Nick. “You remember Sandy Bennett?”

Nick has to think about it for a moment, and then his eyes widen in remembrance. “The one with the boots?”

“The killer boots,” letting Nick see what he is thinking.

“Oh boy! Somebody’s gettin’ boots fer Kreesmas!”

Shushing Nick and looking over his shoulder to insure that Sandy isn’t already on her way down the stairs, Travis replies, “Keep it down, dude.”

Nick is drunk and acting silly. He covers his mouth and looks up the stairs, too.

Ian, John, and Dizzy are still waiting for an explanation of all the covert motion going on between the two. “Who’s this chick?” John asks.

“Old girlfriend—sort of.”

“Dude,” Nick interjects, “You pretty much ditched her. You think she’s still got it on for you?” Shrugging, Travis replies, “Near as I can tell, from what happened up there.”

Nick performs a little jig and imitates a bad seventies porno soundtrack bass.

Dizzy hits Nick on the arm. “You’re so bad.”

“You know,” Ian says, changing the subject, “we should just go over to the house and get a bunch of beers in a cooler—drink ‘em right here.”

“They got six fuckin’ kegs up there,” Travis points out.

“Six?” Nick asks incredulously.

“That’s what Phil says.”

“Is Phil up there?” Dizzy asks lovingly. “I love Phil.”

“He is standin’ by the keg in the kitchen.”

“I’ll be back,” Dizzy says. “I’m gonna’ go say hey.”

As Dizzy makes her way up the fire escape, Nick leans over and punches Travis in the shoulder and then gyrates his hips. “Git-in-laid!”

Despite Travis’s attempt to retain a casual demeanor, Nick’s optimism is catchy. “‘Bout damn time, too.”

“What the hell’ya’ doin’ down here, man. You should be schmoozin’ it up there.”

“It’s casual.” He gives Ian a cheers with his plastic beer cup. “Gotta’ play hard to get sometimes.”

“We’ll play it cool, dude. Make you look good,” Ian says, smiling vicariously. “You know,” Ian says, laughing, “make it look like you just ducked out on her ’cause of some super-secret government mission or somethin’.”

“Hell, I liked her. I just wasn’t gonna’ be the other man. I think she knows that.” Travis looks up the stairs. “Or she’s just wasted.”

“Either way!” Nick cheers.

Ian adds, “Yeah, but dude, the other man has no obligations.”

“Da’ otha’ man gets his booty fo’ free!” Nick yells.

“You need to get laid,” Travis informs Nick.

A surprised look comes over Nick’s face—some epiphany. “You know what? You’re right.”

And he wonders off up the stairs.

“What the hell?” Travis asks to no one in particular after Nick has walked off.

“I think he’s been here a while, dude,” Ian replies.

“And he’s horny,” John adds.

“How’re you doin’?” Travis asks.

John shrugs. “I’m horny too.”

“No, no, no. How’re you doin’?” Travis asks again, holding up his beer.

John examines the glass soberly. “I’m drunk and horny.”

Travis furrows his brow.

“Yeah, dude,” Ian says encouragingly. “Vaquero. You’re a cowboy.”

“No time for dames,” Nick agrees gruffly and then quickly corrects himself to Kristin and Daphne. “Except for you two luscious ladies.” Kristin and Daphne make duh faces.

Travis shakes his head. “I was at a party a couple of months ago, trying to explain to this girl that I was a misogynist—she asks me if I had to go to school for that.”

Nick looks over at Travis, “Speaking of pizza.”

“That wasn’t relevant?”

Dizzy, “Unless you were trying to say that you hate us…”

“No, sorry,” Travis agrees. “It’s the whole marriage thing got me on it—you know, just incompatibility.”

“Actually,” Nick says, “that’s like that girl at that party at Appleby Muse.” Nick elbows Ian.

“Do you remember that?”

Ian just shuts his eyes and shakes his head, somewhat shamefully. He waves the matter off with his hand as Travis laughs in remembrance.

“I mean, Ian totally lambasted this girl. She is just totally playing it up and flirting with Ian…” Nick turns to Ian for a moment, “What was it you said? I can’t even remember now.”

“He said somethin’ like ‘I know you’re just tryin’ ta’ get laid,” Travis offers.

“No. She was just fishing for compliments. I told her that if she was just looking for flattery, she should look elsewhere.”

“That’s like that girl here—Rhonda’s friend Jamie,” Travis starts. “Ian told her that he didn’t expect her to remember him after they’d already met once, but that it didn’t matter anyway because he didn’t want to inflate her already sizable ego.”

Ian laughs and hits the table. He had said that, and he could remember the expression of horror on the girl’s face.

Kristin hits him playfully, her mouth wide open in utter amazement. “You did not say that.”

“He can be a feisty little spic when he wants to be,” Travis adds.

“Eh,” Ian says. “She deserved it.”

“Oh no,” Travis agrees, “That is the beauty of it. She totally deserved it.”

“But you don’t say things like that,” Kristin argues.

“I would never be able to say something like that,” Dizzy agrees.

Ian shrugs though. “I was feelin’ surly.”

“I don’t think I’d ever have the guts,” Travis says.

“I’m gonna’ hire Ian to say somethin’ like that to Vicky.”

“Aren’t you still with her?” Kristin asks.

“No.”

“I haven’t seen her around in a while.”

“Yeah,” Nick answers. “She got an internship.” He shakes his head.

“You didn’t do anything?” Dizzy asks.

Nick shakes his head and shrugs.

In sudden epiphany, Kristin leans over across Ian and asks Nick, “What were you doing with your old girlfriend tonight?”

“I jus’ hadn’t seen her in a while,” Nick says, casual. Too casual.

Kristin nods her head knowingly keeping her eyes on Nick.

“No,” Nick answers. “That’s it.”

“She’s got a new boyfriend,” Travis adds, leering, and Nick takes his turn rolling his eyes in response.

Raising an eyebrow suspiciously, Kristin leans back into her seat and watches Nick.

“Yeah. He’s real interesting.”

“He’s not a bad guy,” Travis argues.

“Eh.”

“Okay,” Travis concedes, “he’s a moron.”

“Are you jealous?” Kristin asks.

Nick looks frustrated for a moment, with Kristin’s line of questioning. “Nooooo,” he says, as though you’d have to be an idiot not to know it.

Kristin raises her eyebrow in suspicion again.

“How long did you go out with Karen?” Ian asks. Nick and Karen had been dating since before Ian knew Nick.

“Two years.”

Ian nods appreciatively. “That’s a while, man.”

“I guess we were the standard bearers for a while.”

“You’re the standard bearer now,” Travis says, pointing at Ian as if to tag him and say you’re it.

Ian doesn’t seem quite comfortable with the notion, and he shifts slightly in his seat.
“Really?”

Travis nods.

“What about John and Rachel?” Ian asks in his defense.

Travis makes a cutting motion at his neck with his forefinger, and Ian, Dizzy and Kristin look surprised.

“When?” Ian asks.

“Earlier today. John left just before you got here.”

“Shit.”

“Fuck,” Nick corrects him.

Ian laughs lightly and then asks, “What happened?”

Travis shrugs. “He didn’t say much. Apparently she is not interested in a long distance relationship.”

Ian looks confused.

“The band’s moving to Atlanta.”

“You’re kidding?”

“No. Fuck,” Nick corrects Ian more emphatically.

“They decided on it this afternoon apparently.”

“When’s he leaving?”

“Sounds like the end of this month.”

Ian nods again and says, “You know, I kinda’ feel like getting out of town.” Dizzy agrees with a silent nod. “Maybe go home for a couple of weeks,” Ian finishes.

“What would you do that for?” Travis asks.

“Eh. I just don’t feel like I’m getting anything done around here. I really wouldn’t mind going home and at least making a few bucks working for my Mom. It’d be relaxing.”

Travis looks around the table. “I guess it’ll just be me then.”

“It’s only for a couple of weeks,” Ian offers. “Actually, you could come with me if you wanted. We could head up to the city for a while. Check out some clubs. You might get a gig in New York!”

“Nah,” Travis says.

“Suit yourself.”

Travis leans back in his seat. “I don’t mind. I got stuff to do do here… I guess.”

“I’m dead if it’s for me,” Travis says.

“Hello?” Nick says. He listens for a moment. “No, I’m sorry. He’s dead.” He listens again.

“Well,” he starts with some reserve, “I could check again, but, I mean, at least an hour ago he was dead.”

Travis looks at Nick and mouths silently, Who is it?

Kristin, Nick mouths back.

Travis waves for the phone.

“Oh my God!” Nick hollers, “It’s a miracle! It’s a miracle! He’s alive! Here.” He hands the phone to Travis.

“Hello?”

“Hello, freak,” Kristin replies dryly. Travis can barely hear her over Nick screaming, “This will be the best Christmas ever!”

Travis: What’s up?
Kristen: I wanted to see what you’re doing tomorrow night.

“Not goin’ anywhere with you,” Travis says. Nick gets up to go to the bathroom, farting loudly as he passes Travis. Travis takes a swing at him as Nick dashes through the door.

Kristen: Shut up. Do you remember Eric Tufts?
Travis [thinking]: Yeah.
Kristen: You do not.
Travis: No, actually I do. We met up with him at Mardi Gras that first time, right? You met him on the love boat or something.
Kristen [sighing]: It was just a cruise. I can’t believe you actually remember that.
Travis: Yeah, well, we got along pretty well. He can talk the talk.
Kristen: Well, anyway, he’s coming in to town tomorrow. I want us all to hang out.
Travis: Am I to assume that there will be drinking?
Kristen [in valley girl voice]: Uh, like, what else?”
Travis: No, I’m sorry. I’m strictly against drinking.
Kristen: Shut up. Will you come?
Travis: Yeah. It’d be great to see him again.
Kristen: Yeah. I thought you guys got along last time, and it’ll be more fun if there’s more of us.
Travis: Yup.
Kristen: Okay. Well, what are you doing tonight?
Traivs: I think we’re goin’ to ER to meet Karen, and then I don’t know what.
Kristen [with a hint of jealousy]: Karen? Nick’s Karen?
Travis: Yeah.
Kristen: Why?
Travis: What do I know? Nick says he hadn’t seen her in a while and thought it would be nice.
Kristen [irritated]: Okay. Well, me and Daphne will be at Mean Mike’s if ya’ wanna’ see us after that.
Travis: I imagine we’ll do that.
Kristen: Okay. We’ll see you there.

“Yep,” and Travis hangs up the phone. Getting up, he walks over the the phone base and replaces the handset. Then, he picks up the answering machine and hits the memo button.

“John. You’re an asshole. We’re at the Engine Room.” The machine chirps cheerfully in response.

Coming out of the bathroom, Nick warns loudly, “Don’t go in there!”

“Man,” Travis replies, irritated. “Someone should shove a scented suppository up your ass. I thought you were a vegetarian or somethin’?”

“I am,” Nick replies, perplexed. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

“So, shouldn’t that make your crap smell less?”

Nick shrugs. “Cows are vegetarians.”

Travis concedes. “Good point.”

“I saw her last weekend. She was out with that Vic guy,” Travis replies.

“There’s something about him I don’t like.”

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

“What is it?” Nick asks seriously.

“I don’t know. He’s a little flashy, don’t ya’ think.”

“I guess.”

“Like, whenever Dizzy’s around, he acts real friendly. But then, a couple of weeks ago I ran into him at a barbecue a friend of mine was having, and he just blew me off. Didn’t talk to me for two minutes.” Travis takes a drag off his cigarette and thinks about it.

“You know, Daphne hasn’t been real receptive to my presence lately,” Nick says.

“Well, you guys weren’t even talkin’ there for a while,” Travis offers.

“Yeah but we worked all that out back in January.”

Coming to a short wall along the parking lot’s edge, Travis jumps up on it and starts balancing his way alongside Nick. “Maybe if you lost a little weight, she would like you.”

“Shut up, Fatty.”

“You’re so fat, you’re blood type is Ragu.”

Nick starts laughing, and Ian and John stop to turn around. “What?” asks John curiously.

“He said, ‘You’re so fat you’re blood type is Ragu’,” Nick explains.

John and Ian both laugh before moving on up the street.

“Mmm…” Nick says, pulling the corners of his lips down like an angry samurai. “Me must get money from a-tee-em. Much money for good drink.”

“Hai,” Travis replies with a bow and jumps down off the wall.

The group make their way through the crowd in front of the Georgia Theater, looking at all the people waiting on show tickets as they go. Nick leans over conspiratorially to Travis as they made their way. “Over at the ticket booth. She’s buying one.”

“What?” Travis asks and looks. There was a particularly unattractive girl at the booth window.

“Yours,” Nick said casually out of the side of his mouth.

“Sonuvabitch,” Travis curses under his breath. “I’ll get you for that.”

As they pass out of the crowd into the intersection of Lumpkin and Clayton, Travis and Nick raise their voices again. “Oh my God! She was awful.” Nick hits Travis in the shoulder. “Did you see the hair bagel on that one.”

Travis doesn’t reply. Retaliation would have to wait. When someone called “yours” everyone was alert, paying attention to the game. You couldn’t get someone then—unless you were good. You had to wait until no one was paying attention again.

The basic premise of the game was simple, and had evolved out of a game that Nick and Travis had originally developed their freshman year. The original game had been invented for the purpose of commenting on the attractiveness of a woman while in close proximity. The player would spot a target, turn to the other and inquire, “What time is it?” The second player would ask, “Where?” and the first player would proceed to name a city that was North, South, East or West of the players’ location. Once the “target” was spotted by the second player a time between one and ten o’ clock was giving as a rating.

By the time they’d gotten adept at the game, Travis and Nick had also invented twenty or so sayings to follow the time as coded comments, like “I think you’re shoelaces are untied,” which was meant to be interpreted as “She’s too young/illegal for you.” One summer afternoon at an amusement park, Nick and Travis had been debating over a certain young woman’s attractiveness when Travis said, “She’s your girlfriend.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” asks Nick, thinking he had forgotten one of their secret phrases.

“She’s ugly and you can have her,” Travis replied.

It stuck. “Yours” developed some obscure rules of its own over the years. A player could never lie to get another player to look at the target—could never claim that the target was pretty/handsome if they weren’t. And the peculiar rule-of-three came into being, meaning that if you were given the same boyfriend/girlfriend three times in a row in three different locales, they were yours for life.

It was all terribly shallow and childish. Nick and Travis knew it. But really, they prided themselves on being shallow. There was more time for fun if they didn’t have to worry about trivial matters like manners or politeness.

When they got to the corner opposite of the Georgia Theater, Nick says, “I’ll meet you guys up there. I gotta’ get moony.”

Ian and John wave and keep walking up the street, discussing John’s upcoming show. Ian had decided to photograph it. Travis follows Nick into the ATM booth for no reason at all.

“Did you call Victoria back?” Travis asks. He’d left a message on Nick’s door earlier, before leaving for the Engine Room.

“Yeah,” Nick replies, punching buttons on the ATM. “I told her I was gonna’ hang out with you guys.”

Travis smiles. “Oh, what’d she say?”

Turning around for a moment, while the machine processes his transaction, Nick imitates

Vicky in a huff. “Fine. I didn’t want to go out tonight anyway.”

“Sure she didn’t,” Travis replies.

Nick gets his money, his receipt and card out of the machine. “Have you seen Cordova in a while?”

“Jason?” Travis asks. “Yeah. I run into him on North Campus now and then.”

The pair head out of the ATM booth. “Vicky keeps talkin’ about him.”

“To you?”

“Yeah. She’s just trying to get sympathy.”

“You know, the more I talk to him, the less I sympathize with her.”

“Really?”

“He’s a pretty genuine guy, and she made him out to be such an asshole. I think maybe she was making up some of the things she said happened between them.”

“Maybe.”

“Did you ever hang out with them when they were dating?”

“No.”

“Damn. If he even talked to another girl, she’d get all upset. Even if he wasn’t flirting with them or anything. I don’t know how he put up with it.”

“Well, he is a playa.”

“Nuh-uh, girl.”

“I’m say-in.”

“Mm-mm.”

“He’s a flirt. But I certainly can’t hold that against him.”

“Nope.”

“That’s why I always liked Meryl,” Travis continues as he opens the door to Mean Mike’s for Nick. They both enter and nod to the bouncer. Being regulars, they never got carded anymore. Raising his voice over the crowd and the music, Travis continues, “She always took it as an indirect compliment if a girl flirted with me.”

Looking around for John and Ian, Dizzy and Kristin, Nick replies, “Yeah. Karen was the same way.”

“Meryl always knew who I was going home with,” Travis says.

Making their way through the crowd to the back stairs, Nick stops to shake hands with a curly-haired fellow. “What’s goin’ on?” he asks.

“Not much,” the fellow replies. “Thursday night, you know?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Nick agrees moving on through the crowd.

When they got a few feet away, Travis inquires, “Somebody you know?”

“Apparently,” Nick says, chuckling a bit.

Travis laughs to himself. In a town of thirty thousand kids, people were bound to forget names and faces. It just happened in the peculiar currents and divergences of friendships and acquaintances.

The pair make their way upstairs, and spot Dizzy sitting at the top near the railing in a light blue dress. She is talking to a guy but stops when she sees Nick and Travis. She gets up to hug them both. Leaning in to Travis, she says in a low tone with a laugh, “Save me.” Travis smiles and looks at her, keeping one arm around her waist protectively. “Well, where are Ian and John and Kristin?”

“Over there,” she says, pointing to a booth a few tables away.

“Well, come and sit with us then, baby,” Travis replies loudly.

“Okay. Let me get my drink.”

Leaning over, she takes her whiskey sour from a stool next to where she had been sitting.

“Allen,” she says to the young man she’d been with, “I’m gonna’ go talk to my friends for a bit. I’ll see you later, though.”

Allen smiles seductively and points his finger at her, cocked like a gun with a wink. Daphne and Travis walk over to the booth where the others are, both trying to keep from laughing, and Travis pulls up two chairs for them. Nick and John are discussing some facet of sex in the perverted uncle’s voice. Ian is talking at a fast pace about traveling, while Kristin just stares at him, mesmerized. They are both madly in love with each other, but neither in a position to do anything about it. Both of them benefit/suffer from qualities that made them faithful to their lovers.

“Did you see that?” Dizzy asks Travis as they sit down.

“That was pretty fuckin’ cheesy,” Travis replies.

“I can’t believe that,” Dizzy says, covering her mouth as she laughs out loud.

When they sit down, Travis asks Nick, “I’m going to the bar—do you want anything?”

“Yeah. Get me a Jack and Coke, will ya’?”

“You want anything?” Travis asks Daphne.

She holds her half-full drink up in response. Seeing that everyone else is adequately full, Travis sets out. There are two bars, one upstairs and one downstairs. Spotting a space at the bar downstairs from the top of the landing, though, Travis heads down. Besides, Phil Allen worked the downstairs bar and made a better gin and tonic than anyone else—or anywhere in town for that matter. Reaching the bar, Travis pulls out a twenty and fits into the space at the bar like a puzzle piece, snug between a pair of talkative girls and a young couple. Putting his bill out where Phil will see it, he waits while listening in on the surrounding conversation.

“Oh my God,” the girl to Travis’s left says. “I can’t believe that.”

“Seriously, though,” the girl’s friend responds, “isn’t that so disgusting?”

“Oh. My. God. I can’t believe that she is such a slut.”

Rolling his eyes, Travis shifts to his other leg, leaning imperceptibly towards the couple.

“It’s not a bad deal,” the boyfriend says.

“I think you should go with the other one, though,” his girlfriend replies.

“Really?”

“Definitely. You’ll probably get a lot further in the long run.”

Travis isn’t paying attention when Phil walks up to him. The long run of what? “Hey!” Phil calls across the bar. “What’d'ya’ want?”

“Sorry, man,” Travis hollers, turning to look at Phil. “How ’bout a gin and tonic and a Jack and Coke?”

Phil heads off to get them, hollering over his shoulder, “Six dollars!” Travis already knows this of course. One of the other benefits of being a regular was getting a discount for drinking too much. What a shame, Travis thinks, not sure if he’s sarcastic or not. For some reason he is always paranoid he might fall out of good standing with the bar. Believing himself to have a forgettable face, it is always a relief to hear the discount price. Phil comes back in no time at all with the drinks. Travis gives him the twenty and waits for his change. When Phil returns, he asks, “Been good?”

“Yeah,” replies Travis, slipping two dollars into a green vase on the bar. Phil thanks him with a discrete nod as Travis finishes, “Summer’s my favorite time of year.”

“Good to hear it,” Phil says, before moving on down the bar.

Travis slips his change into his pocket, bumps the girl on his left, excuses himself, and gets his drinks. Heading back to the stairs, Travis turns to look at the two girls he’d stood next to. They were both attractive though overdressed for a place like Mean Mike’s. He could never stand it when anyone talked like the two had—sincerely. Daphne and Kristin did it all the time as a joke, and it was hilarious, but they could also be literate and well-spoken—it was a joke. Travis wondered how anyone could say anything real, talking like that: in a high-pitched falsetto, a million miles a minute, every sentence sounding like a question. He tries to imagine one of them talking about their dead father. “And, oh my God. He was, like, all dead and stuff. I was so totally distraught?” Probably, he thought, they don’t talk like that when they’re trying to be serious. How could you?

On his way up the stairs, Travis passes Allen—Daphne’s new friend—and smiles at him. The guy looks off like he doesn’t see Travis. Travis laughs it off, but it’s rude nonetheless, so he hurries back to his friends. Coming back to the table again, Travis sets Nick’s drink down and sits down in his chair.

“What’s the damage?” Nick asks.

“Ah,” Travis replies, dismissing the request. “You just go next time.”

Turning to Daphne, Travis asks, “So, who was that guy?”

Daphne just shrugs. “One of Rick’s friends.”

Travis and Daphne both imitate the guy and point fingerguns at each other, laughing.

“You sound happy,” Travis comments.

Dizzy makes her I’m-frustrated face and declares, “I am!” before hitting him on the shoulder.

“Ow!” she yells.

“Mom!” Travis yells at Kristin. “Dizzy’s hitting me again!”

Kristin turns slightly in her seat and points alternately to Daphne and Travis. “Stop it now you two—or no more booze.”

Daphne and Travis both look down, pouting for a moment, trying to behave, before Travis points at Daphne again, winking. “Hey there, baby.” he says with mocking seduction. Dizzy just rolls her eyes and finishes her drink, slamming it down on the table, much to everyone’s surprise. “I want more!” she yells, and in her best redneck accent, hollers, “Woo-hoo!”

Turning around again, Kristin says, “Will you get me a vodka cranberry?” and holds out a five dollar bill. Daphne gets up and struts over to the upstairs bar like she owns the place. To some extent, she does—she started everyone in the group, and lot of other folks, going when the joint was still new, and is friends with everyone that works there. Travis watches her walk and marvels at her desert-like beauty: cream-colored skin, strawberry hair, eyes like blueberries. He turns his attention from her to the rest of the upstairs: the dart boards and pinball machines tucked away in corners. He watches for a second and then turns to Nick, leaning in a little without looking at him. “Don’t look now, but those two chicks playin’ darts over there are givin’ us the old eyeball.”

“Really?” Nick asks seriously. He waits a couple of seconds before subtly leaning back in his seat in the booth. Waiting a few moments, he glances in the direction of the dart boards. Waiting for just the right moment of recognition, Travis blurts out, “Yours!” laughing and takes a drink.

“Damn it!” Nick says, leaning back onto the table.

John pokes Nick in the shoulder and says with a sly smile and redneck accent, “Why don’t you mosey on over there and ask her what her sign is?”

“Shut up,” Nick replies. “I don’t have to put up with this crap.”

“What’re you gonna’ do, Fatty? Hang out with all your other friends?”

“You’re right,” Nick laments, collapsing onto the table, “I haven’t got any friends!” He

pretends to sob and Kristin pats him pitifully on the head.

Daphne comes back to the table and set her’s and Kristin’s drinks down before seating herself. “So, where you guys been?” she asks Travis and Nick.

“Right here,” Travis replies, pointing at his drink. “You know how the beginning of summer is.”

“Yeah,” Daphne agrees. “I went home for a while. Mimi asked about you.”

“For real? I can’t believe she even remembers me.”

Dizzy puckers her lips and squeezes Travis’s cheeks together, “She wuvs you.”

“That’s sweet,” Travis says, thinking that it really was. Mimi was Dizzy’s grandmother.

“I think I’m gonna’ get a job,” Dizzy adds.

Travis and Nick both look around in unison, as though they were confused. “A what?” Travis asks.

“A job,” Dizzy explains.

“No, seriously,” Nick adds. “I’ve been having trouble with my hearing. I thought you said you were ‘getting a job’.” He and Travis laugh obnoxiously.

Dizzy rolls her eyes.

“Seriously,” Travis says, “Why would you do that? You don’t have to.”

Daphne shrugs. “It’d be nice to have something to do—and the extra money.”

Leaning forward, Nick adds, “Don’t mind him—he’ a bum.”

“Hey, I work,” Travis replies defensively.

Nick just rolls his eyes and sits back again.

“Don’t even,” Travis retorts, “Like you could legitimately call what you do work.”

Smiling mischievously, Nick shushes Travis to keep the secret.

“Yeah, what do you do at that gallery?” Daphne asks, genuinely curious.

“Well,” Nick replies, “When we do stuff, we usually build cabinets and pedestals for sculpture, hang pieces and light them, inventory the gallery’s collection. I mean, we work pretty hard when a show is coming in or out—it’s just that in the interim, there’s not much to do.”

“Are you ever gonna’ show anything?”

Nick shakes his head. “You have to be pretty well established—more than me. I was thinking about doing a show at Joe’s or Blue Sky though.” —two of the local coffeehouses.

“You should do that,” Daphne urges.

“Yeah. We’ll see. Getting shit framed is pretty expensive.”

Ian leans in from the other side of the booth and says, “Hey, I meant to tell you: I found a guy in Atlanta that’ll do it for pretty cheap. He’s an artist and does it in his spare time for the extra cash.”

“See,” Nick replies, “That’s what I’d really like do, learn to do it myself.”

“Is it that hard?” Daphne asks.

“It’s hard to do it well. But workin’ at the gallery’s taught me a lot.”

Finishing his drink, Travis gets up to go to the bathroom and get another. He makes his way through the tables and chairs and people, rubbing up against backs and other errant body parts, excusing himself as best he can as he goes. No one minds a gentle push if someone else has to get by, and as he walks through the crowd, Travis takes note of the fact that everyone at the bar seems to be in good spirits. Getting to the one unisex bathroom, Travis raps loudly on the door and hesitantly turns the knob when he doesn’t hear anything, which is hard to do with all the other noise from the room. There is no one inside, and he steps into the darkness and closes the door behind him, shutting out the light and noise.

Turning on the light, Travis steps up to the toilet and reads the graffiti on the walls. Most of it is trite or cryptic. People had scribbled names and dates or declared their undying love. In a spot by the window, someone had written: “Reality is for people who can’t handle drugs.” Travis smiles and reads the phrase directly next to it: “Linoleum is for people who can’t handle carpet.” It is clever enough to get a good laugh out of him as he finishes, and zips up his jeans. Stepping up to the mirror and sink, Travis leans in close and stares into his own dark, brown eyes. Lightly, he taps his nose with his finger. He was tipsy, and he smiles to himself, enjoying the feeling. No matter how many times he’d been warned that alcohol held no answers, he found himself disagreeing. There might be no concrete answers in the bottle, but there was an escape. There was no denying it. That was the real danger—the truly addictive property of alcohol—the temptation to abandon everything. But he could never abandon his guitar.

Travis opens the door to step out, and has to make way for a hurried young women who looks like she is going to be sick (speaking of abandonment). As the door slams behind him, Travis makes his way to the edge of the bar. Just as Travis gets there, Chip steps up to him, wiping his hands off on a towel and says, “Gin and tonic?”

He smiles and replies, “Actually, let me get one of those and six shots of tequila. And let me get somethin’ to carry it all on if you could.”

“Comin’ up,” Chip says. He lines the shot glasses up on a small tray in front of Travis and pours them all, throws a handful of limes down, sets a salt shaker on the tray, and goes to mix the gin and tonic. “Eighteen even,” he says when he’s done.

Travis fishes through his pocket, a mass of small bills and quarters at this point, makes out twenty-four dollars and hands it over. “Thanks. Keep the change.” No, he doesn’t have to say that, but it’s cool. He picks up the tray carefully and starts making his way through the crowd. With the tray, it was difficult, but relying on his old skills as a waiter, Travis manages to get back without spilling anything. The crowd is congenial and makes way. Setting the tray down on the table, he just says, “All right, let’s go. Pass ‘em around.”

“What is it?” Kristin asks skeptically.

“To-kill-ya’.”

“Oh God, I hate tequila,” Kristin replies.

Taking his, Ian coaxes her, “C’mon.”

“Everybody’s doin’ it,” Travis insists, sounding like a bad actor in a public service announcement on peer pressure.

“I’ll take yours,” Nick offers, reaching for his own.

“No,” Kristin answers warily. “I’ll do it. I just won’t like it.”

Travis hands John his, who thanks him with a nod, and then he passes one to Daphne who just makes a face but takes it. “You’re gonna’ do it?” Travis asks, surprised and curious. Dizzy just sighs and nods.

“Okay,” Travis says, “put ‘em out.” Everyone licks their hands and passes the salt shaker around. “You know the drill. Lick, drink, suck.” Holding his shot glass out over the table, he says, “Here’s to bein’ wreckless.”

“Woo-hoo,” Dizzy hollers as everyone drinks and reaches out for the limes with various faces. Travis laughs as he sees the range from complete satisfaction to utter illness. Everyone either drinks to wash the taste down or smokes to savor it.

“Hey,” Ian says, “Why don’t we all head back to the Teke house after this—see what’s goin’ on.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

Checking her watch, Kristin says, “I can’t believe it’s only midnight.”

Nick replies, taking a long drag off his cigarette, “We got all the time in the world.”

“Comin’ up,” Chip says. He lines the shot glasses up on a small tray in front of Travis and pours them all, throws a handful of limes down, sets a salt shaker on the tray, and goes to mix the gin and tonic. “Eighteen even,” he says when he’s done.

Travis fishes through his pocket, a mass of small bills and quarters at this point, makes out twenty-four dollars and hands it over. “Thanks. Keep the change.” No, he doesn’t have to say that, but it’s cool. He picks up the tray carefully and starts making his way through the crowd.

With the tray, it was difficult, but relying on his old skills as a waiter, Travis manages to get back without spilling anything. The crowd is congenial and makes way. Setting the tray down on the table, he just says, “All right, let’s go. Pass ‘em around.”

“What is it?” Kristin asks skeptically.

“To-kill-ya’.”

“Oh God, I hate tequila,” Kristin replies.

Taking his, Ian coaxes her, “C’mon.”

“Everybody’s doin’ it,” Travis insists, sounding like a bad actor in a public service announcement on peer pressure.

”I’ll take yours,” Nick offers, reaching for his own.

“No,” Kristin answers warily. “I’ll do it. I just won’t like it.”

Travis hands John his, who thanks him with a nod, and then he passes one to Daphne who just makes a face but takes it. “You’re gonna’ do it?” Travis asks, surprised and curious.

Dizzy just sighs and nods.

“Okay,” Travis says, “put ‘em out.” Everyone licks their hands and passes the salt shaker around. “You know the drill. Lick, drink, suck.” Holding his shot glass out over the table, he says, “Here’s to bein’ wreckless.”

“Woo-hoo,” Dizzy hollers as everyone drinks and reaches out for the limes with various faces. Travis laughs as he sees the range from complete satisfaction to utter illness. Everyone either drinks to wash the taste down or smokes to savor it.

“Hey,” Ian says, “Why don’t we all head back to the Teke house after this—see what’s goin’ on.”

Everyone nods in agreement.

Checking her watch, Kristin says, “I can’t believe it’s only midnight.”

Nick replies, taking a long drag off his cigarette, “We got all the time in the world.”

Ian and Travis look at each other with a nervous laugh before dipping their cups in the cooler. Each tastes their drink in unison, eyeing each other, making sure the other isn’t copping out.

“Damn that’s smooth,” says Ian, licking his lips.

“What’s in it?” Travis asks.

“Buncha’ stuff,” Steve replies cryptically. “It’ll getya’ drunk,” he says, refilling his own glass.

The threesome make their way back down the hall and down the stairs to the basement. When they get back to the group, Nick asks indignantly, “Where’d you get that?”

“You know whe’ the bathroom on the back ‘all is?” Steve asks.

“Nope.”

“Go up those back stai’s, and all the way down the ‘all at the top to the bathroom. It’s in a cooler on the sink. ‘Elp yu’self—there’s a ton.”

“Cool,” Nick replies. Turning to John, he asks, “You want some?”

John shakes his head. “I’m fine.”

“C’mon,” Ian says to everyone as Nick walks off to the back hall, “let’s go up to my room and blast some tunes.”

Daphne replies, “Actually, I need to get going.”

“Aw,” Ian replies, disappointed. “You all right to drive?”

“Yeah, I’m fine.” Turning to Kristin, she asks, “You want a ride?”

“Yeah. I better go too.”

Kristin and Daphne hug Ian and Travis in turns.

“Good night,” Dizzy says to Travis.

“Drive safe, darlin’,” Travis replies.

“Hey,” Ian calls after them, “come to John’s show tomorrow.”

“What time?” Kristin asked.

“Ten-thirty.”

“Okay.”

“G’night ya’ll,” Dizzy says again as she and Kristin leave.

Collin, Travis, Steve, Ian, and John make their way out the side door of the basement, and up the stairs to Ian’s room. Collin elbows Ian on the way up.

“What?” Ian asks.

“What?” Collin mocks. “You know what.”

“Kristin?”

“See. I tol’ ya’ you knew,” Collin says with a smile.

“She’s cute as hell, isn’t she?”

“Does Lisa know?” Collin asks.

“Oh, dude, there’s nothin’ to worry about. Kristin and I are totally platonic.”

“I’m sure Lisa believes you, too.”

The boys all say their hellos, and Ian steps up to introduce Kristin and Daphne. Collin shakes hands with both of them, charmed, commenting that he knows Kristin from Mean Mike’s.

“Nice ta meetcha’,” he says to Daphne.

“And do you know Nick?” asks Ian.

“Yeah,” Collin says, shaking Nick’s hand. “You did those fucked up paintings, right?”

Nick nods.

“I saw ‘em at a party at your place once. I love those, man.”

“Thanks.”

“Everything’s all bent up and shit. You musta’ been high when you did those.”

“No, but that’s what everybody says, so…”

“Well, c’mon in ya’ll. They’re still playin’ Baghdad in the basement. Grab some beers.”

Everyone makes their way to the basement in a crowd. Collin turns to Travis, “Hey man, I didn’t get to tell ya’, like, I dug your show.”

“Yeah,” Travis replies. “I saw you. I meant to thank you for comin’.”

“Me and Jamie had to go meet some people right before you were done. We scootched out pretty fast.”

“That’s cool.”

“When’re you playin’ again?”

“I don’t know yet, actually.”

“Well, let me know. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate that.”

“Yeah. I tol’ Jamie I thought you sounded like Bruce Springsteen or somethin’.”

Travis raises his eyebrows in disbelief. It was a hell of a compliment. “Thanks,” he says, a little breathlessly.

“But like, you need ta chill out—take your time. You seemed like you were in a hurry.”

“I was pretty nervous for some reason,” Travis agrees.

“That wasn’t your first show, was it?”

“No. Not by a long shot. But every now and then it just hits me—new material maybe.”

“You jus’ need ta drink some beer before you go on,” Collin says, laughing and patting Travis on the back.

“Yeah—like a six pack,” Travis says, rubbing the back of his neck, remembering just how jittery he was that night.

They all get to the basement and pass around beers from out of a cooler. Fraternity brothers, and their dates, and a few other party-goers are spread out all through the basement, centered around three ping-pong tables. The tables are covered with paper cups filled with beer. As the opponents sink ping-pong balls into each other’s cups, the defeated have to drink whatever cup is hit.

Everyone is settled into a small crowd with their beers, and a tall, thin man with large eyes and a shaved head walks up to Ian and Travis with a huge plastic cup in his hand. In a light Austrailian accent, he pronounces, “Don’t drink that shit.”

“Hey, Steve, what’s goin’ on?” Ian replies.

“You got somethin’ better, I take it?” Travis asks.

“C’mon,” Steve says, indicating with a jerk of his head for them both to follow. Turning to check on everyone, Travis looks over to his friends. Dizzy and Kristin are laughing at Collin’s antics. He is an incredible flirt—good ol’ boy charm mixed with a wit that catches people off guard. Nick and John are discussing something. Turning back around, Travis catches up to Ian and Steve who are already making their way across the basement to the back hall stairs. Walking up the flight of stairs they all chuckle as they pass one of the younger brothers who is passed out on the landing. “He’s ‘ad too much,” Steve said flatly, his accent making the statement all the more hilarious. When they get to the top of the stairs, Steve asks Ian and Travis, “Why ar’ American bea’ and ‘aving sex in a canoe the same?”

Ian and Travis just shrug, following Steve down the hall at the top of the stairs.

“They’re both too fuckin’ close to wata’,” he said with a smile in his eyes, and a wry grin.