The guy was younger than I’d expected, twenty-five, tops. Tall, wearing a midnight-black wig that skimmed his shoulders, he had to be sweltering hot in his black leather pants, black T-shirt, and matching leather jacket, rife with chrome zippers. He didn’t wait for us to identify ourselves. He raised his head, apparently focusing on the seat behind me, and I could tell he was trying to gauge how hard it would be to reach his goal. Clearly, it took all his effort just to remain upright.
A set of male hands clapped his shoulders from behind. “Easy there, Jeff. We’ll get you settled.”
The guy behind Jeff poked his head around. “Hello,” he said. All I could think was that these two patronized the same wigmaker. Their faces were completely different, but their hair was identical. “Don’t mind my friend here. He’ll be asleep inside of five minutes.” To Jeff, he said, “Easy does it, buddy. One foot in front of the other. Yeah, there you go.”
I watched the two men navigate an unsteady path between us, and found it curious that the helpful friend had a pair of drumsticks poking out of his back pocket.
Bennett leaned forward, sending me a look that communicated his intense displeasure. I held up both hands in supplication. What could we do? We were the guests in this situation. If Bennett didn’t have a commitment for the next day, we could have begged off and tried to secure alternate transportation. But that was not an option.
The next through the door was a giant of a man. Tall and muscular, with a creased, pockmarked face, he was at least thirty-five years old, maybe more. He had sweat-flattened dark hair that curled at the nape of his neck and a vaguely familiar face. He wore expensive jeans and carried his black wig down by his side like a briefcase. The glittering diamond stud in his ear had to be at least two carats. He was flanked by two women, who were having a discussion between themselves, chatting and gesticulating in front of him as though he weren’t there. The women were dressed more appropriately for the weather in skimpy pastel tops, pale capris, and high, strappy sandals.
The passage wasn’t wide enough for them to come through as a threesome, so the big fellow allowed the two women to enter first. They gave us a passing glance, but didn’t miss a beat in their conversation.
Their companion smiled at me, then at Bennett. “Hi, I’m Adam. But most people call me Slick.” He reached to shake Bennett’s hand.
“I’m Grace,” I said as he shook my hand. The light was beginning to dawn. “You were playing at Troppo last night, weren’t you?”
His craggy face broke into a smile. “You caught the show? Awesome.” He looked up to where Jeff was being tucked into the seat behind me. “You hear that? This lady here was at the dance club last night.” To me, he asked, “What did you think? You like our sound?”
In my peripheral vision, I could see Bennett’s confusion. “To be honest, I spent most of the evening upstairs.” Adam’s face fell, so I quickly added, “But for the time I was down on the main floor I thought you were great.” It was the truth. I’d almost said as much to Irena last night. “You had quite a crowd there,” I said. “Lots of dancing.”
Adam looked as though he wanted to say more, but the last of the group jostled in behind him, led by a gorgeous collie that pranced onto the plane, straining against its collar. At the other end of the leash was yet another black-wigged man. Older than the two young men behind me, closer in age to Adam, he called to his eager pooch, urging the dog to heel. Clamped to the man’s arm was a tightly packed woman who wore too much eyeliner and too little blouse. The narrow walkway didn’t allow the three to walk abreast, so when the dog finally did heed its master, the woman was required to step back to allow the duo to proceed first.
The man stopped to coo softly to his dog, patting its side, saying, “There’s a good girl. We’re here now. Time to relax.”