"I've met Tilla. You guys play great together," I said to Mike.
"Thanks," Mike said, shaking my hand.
"I really loved that Warren Zevon song at the end."
"Werewolves of London," Evan said.
"No, the other one. My Shit's Fucked Up."
"You recognized it?" Mike asked. He turned to Evan, letting out a low whistle. "That's impressive. No one ever knows that song."
"Eh, I have a mullet. Of course I'd recognize an obscure song from the seventies."
They all exchanged glances before cracking up. "It's kind of cool, in a blonde Joan Jett kind of way," Tilla offered.
"Thanks, but Joan Jett I am not. I may love music but I can't rock a mullet."
"When did you hear that song?" Mike asked.
"My mom. She's a music lover. The trait passed to us. In fact, it's even in my name."
"What do you mean?" Evan asked.
"My sisters and I all have singer names. They all kind of reflected what she was going through when she was pregnant with each of us. You know, the soundtrack of your life."
"That's awesome. Who are you named for?"
"Billie Joe Armstrong of Green Day."
Mike elbowed Evan in the ribs. "Maybe we should learn some Green Day, eh Evan?"
"Maybe," he said.
"You guys seem really in sync."
"Don't know any 'N Sync either," Mike joked.
I shook my head. "How long have you played together?"
"It's been a while. Evan and I had a garage band in college."
"More like a basement band, since we didn't have a garage at the frat house."
I could picture Mike in a frat house, but I couldn't imagine Evan belonging to a fraternity. I couldn't imagine him doing anything but riding in a motorcycle, strumming a guitar, carving wood, or fucking me. Wow … I wasn't just plastered-I was three sheets to the wind and two shots past sanity.
"Time to kick everyone out," Tilla said. She turned to Evan. "Thanks for packing them in as usual."
"Thanks for giving me a place to play," he said. There was a pause that passed between the three of them. A heavy look that spoke of something deeper than idle conversation. I felt like an intruder so I busied myself with my phone. That didn't help because I had several texts from my family, wondering how I was doing.
Mike started singing Closing Time by Semisonic. I had a feeling this was a tradition here because the guests started mumbling their goodbyes and ambled toward the exit.
"To quote 'N Sync, Bye Bye Bye. I should go," I said as Evan took the stool beside me. "Thank you for tonight."
"I'm not done with you yet," Evan said.
"You're not?" I sucked in a deep breath. Someone was seriously depleting the room of its oxygen and I didn't appreciate it.
He inched closer to me, his warm, minty breath washing over me. Damn, did he just brush his teeth? "I've got just what you need, Billie."
"You do?"
"Uh huh, wait here."
He walked to a room off the back. Was he getting a condom? Did I want him to be getting a condom? My thoughts raced in a confused cacophony devoid of any harmony.
He returned with a steaming mug. "Coffee. Black."
I stared at it for a minute.
"Drink."
It was freshly brewed. I blew on it before taking a sip, wincing at its bitterness. "I get it," I said.
"You do?"
"Yeah, this coffee is a symbol based on my very complicated order at the café. You're saying I should simplify my life in order to enjoy it more." I held up the cup, toasting him. "Well played, Evan Wright."
He grinned, pouring a glass of ice water and setting it next to me. "Um … actually, I was thinking you need to sober up."
"Oh."
"But what you said is good too. We can go with that. I'll be right back. Drink the whole thing-and the water too."
I drank my coffee as Tilla, Mike and Evan escorted the last of the customers out. A few girls hung off Evan. Some did the same with Mike, but Tilla's sharp glance quickly put them in their place. When he came back, my mug and glass were empty.
"Thanks for tonight, Evan." I stood up, but the dizziness had me reaching for the counter. He helped me sit back down.
"Billie, can you help me with my problem?"
"What problem?"
"Well, there's this girl who is really drunk. I need to figure out how to get her home safely."
"You don't have to worry about me. I can take the bus."
"A drunk girl on a bus is never a good idea. Besides, the busses stopped running an hour ago on this side of town."
"Oh." I held up my phone. Suddenly, I had three of them in my hand, so I concentrated on the middle one. "I'll call my family!" A simple phrase that didn't really deserve the exclamation point it received, but I'd said it too loudly to use any other kind of punctuation.
"It's late."
He was right. Marley needed her sleep and I'd wake up the kids if I called Stevie or Mom. There was Dillon, but he'd mentioned having breakfast with his parents. He was always nervous before those events. It wouldn't be a good idea to wake him up either.
"I can call a cab then," I stammered, scrolling through my contacts as if I had a cab company listed there, knowing full well I didn't.
He took my cell from me, laying it on the counter. "I don't think it's a good idea for you to be alone in a cab. A girl not too far from here just got raped taking a cab home from a club. So that option is out."
I'd heard about that too. I looked around, cursing myself for not finding a good solution.
"I would say I'd give you a ride, but I know better than to have a drunk girl on the back of my Harley."
"I guess this is a conundrum then." Note to self, never attempt to say words like conundrum when drunk. It took three attempts before I finally managed to vocalize it. Evan, to his credit, waited patiently.
He snapped his fingers suddenly-even that sound had rhythm, coming from him. "I got it, we'll take a cab."
"I may be drunk, but I'm pretty sure you just said I couldn't take a cab."
"I said you couldn't by yourself. I'll come with you so I know you made it home."
"You don't have to do that."
"Humor me," he said, standing up.
He helped me with my coat and let me lean on him while he walked me out. His muscles pulsed and flexed with each movement. I gave the cabbie my address and slunk toward the window on my side. As the car started moving, a sense of dread filled me. The taste of salt and saliva filled my mouth. The scenery moved too fast, causing my tummy to flip as it were being jostled in a mosh pit.
"You want him to pull over?" Evan asked.
I couldn't answer. I just breathed heavily.
"Look at me," he said. The sight of him- the very thing that made my heart bounce and my breath ragged, actually calmed me too. He rubbed my back until the nausea passed.
"I'm okay."
He uncapped a bottle of water and held it in front of me. "Drink."
I took a gulp.
"Slow sips, Billie."
I did as he'd said. He reached over and cracked the window on my side. I was grateful for the fresh air. I leaned my head against his shoulder.
"I forgot my wig," I said.
"It's a good reason for you to come back."
"Why didn't you take me to your place?"
"Why would I do that?"
"I thought that might be what you wanted. I probably would have gone too. I'm vulnerable and drunk."
"I don't do vulnerable and drunk. If a girl wants to be with me, I want her sober and sincere. Is that what you think of me?"
"Only because you made yourself sound like that."
"I guess we interpret things differently then. I told you I was an honest person, and that's all I was doing back there. I'm not the kind of guy that takes advantage of a girl when she's hammered."
I didn't know how to respond. I'd hurt him without meaning to.
"I'm sorry, Evan. You've been nothing but kind to me."
"Don't worry about it." His tone wasn't exactly forgiving.
A change of subject would be good. "That song you sung tonight. The one you wrote. Was it about … " I didn't finish the sentence, waiting for him to complete it, but he didn't.
"What?"
"You know."
"No, I have no idea what you're talking about." He smiled, but it was a sad smile, not the usual grin that lit up his face.