The bar is packed end to end. Eryk shimmies down to the closest part of it and waves at one of the bartenders, but it doesn’t do much good. He huffs and leans against the bar, waiting for his turn.
The DJ’s booth is on a platform on the far wall, and on both sides of the mixing table, a cage is suspended from the ceiling. In one dances Brian, wearing nothing but what appears to be a speedo. The other dancer is his female counterpart, with long brown hair and a black bikini barely covering her curves.
Brendan brushes against my shoulder and I smile over at him. “What do you think?”
“Huh?”
I put my mouth close to his ear and repeat the question. A little tingle goes down my spine at having my mouth so close to him. It reminds me of too many moments to count — moments I didn’t even appreciate when they were happening — but that I now suddenly find I miss.
“It’s fun!” he answers.
Eryk has managed to get the attention of one of the bartenders. “What do you want?” he yells at the three of us.
“Gin and tonic,” I say.
“Same,” Crystal responds.
“Bud,” answers Brendan.
Eryk doesn’t even try to hide the look of disgust. I can practically read his thoughts. He probably thinks only hillbillies drink Budweiser.
I’ll have to remember to punch him in the face later. I don’t know why he’s being so rude, but the least he could do is try and pretend he’s in a good mood.
“There’s a table free,” Crystal says, pointing to a spot near us. We hurry over and snatch up the available seats before anyone else can.
“So, where’s Eryk’s boyfriend?” Brian asks.
Crystal smirks and nods over his shoulder. “In the birdcage.”
Brendan stares for a long minute as Brian raises his arms above his head and shakes his hips, looking like he’s having the time of his life. “Wow,” Brendan finally says, turning back to us. “He, uh, he has nice glutes.”
I laugh out loud, pressing my hand against my mouth. Brendan wasn’t even joking, and that’s what makes his comment so funny.
Crystal is watching me. She’s the goddess at keeping it cool, though, and who knows what her impression of Brendan is. At least she doesn’t seem to think he’s some backwoods hick because I’m pretty sure that’s the title Eryk has already given my ex-boyfriend.
Eryk arrives with our drinks precariously teetering between his fingers. He sets them on the table in front of us.
“Thanks, man,” Brendan says.
“I’m going to say hi to Brian. He’s about to take a break.” Eryk slips away to the dance floor, his head bouncing above the crowd.
Crystal sips her drink and smiles weakly at us before leaning closer to speak. “Do you guys want to dance?”
I bristle at the very word and sneak a glance at Brendan, pretty sure about what his reaction will be.
“Nah.” He waves his hand. “I can’t dance.”
Crystal laughs and stands up. “That’s what Sydney always says. I see a hottie over there. Be back soon.” She grabs her drink and winks.
The song changes, the DJ doing a bad job of blending the two beats together. I take a gulp of my drink, letting it wash away some of the unease.
Brendan looks about as at home as I feel. He shifts awkwardly in his seat, glancing first over one shoulder and then the other at the people around us.
“So,” I say. “Nothing like this in Manteo, huh?”
He shakes his head and just looks over the crowd. A girl in stilettos stumbles back and bumps into Brendan’s chair. Half of her bright red martini sloshes onto the floor.
“Sorry!” she sings before teetering away, laughing with each drunken step.
I grimace. Brendan has got to be hating this.
Leaning closer to him so I don’t have to shout too much to be heard, I say, “Sorry.”
“For what?”
“For being here. I wouldn’t have come here if it had been my choice. I know this isn’t your scene.”
He looks at me for a moment. “Isn’t it your choice?”
“Um, yeah. I mean, I guess. It’s just, Eryk likes to go out to clubs, and I promised him I’d come here at least once. He really likes it, so he thought I would too.”
“Do you?”
I lean back in my seat and shake my head. Brendan laughs.
A few yards away, Crystal dances with a Latino guy. She seems to be having a decent amount of fun, and I wish I could say the same for myself and Brendan. I’m an awful hostess.
“Do you want to leave?” he shouts into my ear. Somehow, the music has only gotten louder.
“Yes,” I automatically say. “One second.”