HARMONY

Part 6 "Who wants to Rock!"

Chad and Steve that night at the bar...

    "A Jack and coke, light on the coke," Chad said as he leaned on the bar. He looked at Steve. "Make it two?"

    "Michelob Ultra," Steve said. Reaching up, he loosened his tie and ran a hand through his hair. Across the bar, the mirror reflected a tired man with sad eyes in a shadowed face. "With a Jack and coke chaser," he added.

    "Now you're getting the hang of this party, my friend." 

    "We're just staying for the first set, then we're leaving."  The drinks arrived and Steve nursed his beer. He rubbed his finger around the Jack and coke—he drained it.

    "Why? Shit, you haven't had a night out for months," Chad said. He motioned for another round. "And Michelle's working late again, isn't she?"

    The second round arrived and this time Steve emptied his before it hit the bar top. "Real estate is tough these days," he said. "Lots more foreclosures or short sells—it takes a lot more time to move properties."  He looked back at himself in the mirror. And it's not like she's cut back on her spending.

    "Uh huh," Chad said. "Too bad she couldn't come tonight—it woulda been kinda fun since  you met her the night we were the warm-up band for Wicked Snicker."   

    Steve turned to face Chad. Feeling the flush of liquor pour through his veins, he rolled up his sleeves and undid the top two buttons. "A fuckn' lifetime ago." 

    Chad gave his back a pat. "We were gonna be rock stars and Shelly was going to decorate the sets.  Remember?"

    "Vaguely."  His tongue ran over his numbing lips. "What's your point?"

"No point. Just sad to see you two putting in so many hours, ya know, away from each other."

    "And what about you and Darcy?"  Steve said, stuffing a handful of pretzels in his mouth. "You live in la la land every fuckn' night?"

    Chad reached into his wallet and laid cash on the counter. "We talk," he said. "Every night, we talk."

    Putting both palms flat on the bar top, "Jack, straight up," Steve said. "Make it two."

***

    The Lexis screeched to a stop just an inch away from the family. "Hey, lady!" the dad screamed. "Watch where you're going!"

    "I'm so sorry," Michelle said through the windshield. "So sorry," she whispered.

She had no choice but to drive forward, pass the valet and straight into the dark parking garage. She turned off the engine and leaned her head against the seat. I'm not doing this tonight. Tonight, I'm going home. Her phone buzzed. She closed her eyes. Don't answer it. Just don't...she glanced at the screen. "Business One" it said. Looking at her pink and white stripped bag, she caressed the vibrating phone. I'll just tell him I can't tonight, I just can't..."Hello," she whispered.

    "Hi baby," a deep voice said. "I can hardly wait to see you."

    She held the phone to her chest.

    "Baby," he said. "Is everything okay?"

    "I just, I just—".

    "I know," he said. "But I'm sitting alone in this room on the bed with our champagne and all I can think about is your beautiful face, your soft skin."

    With her fingertips, she caressed her neck.

***

    "Who wants to rock?!"  The lead singer of Wicked Snicker screamed out to the audience. A return roar pulsed in wild cheers, pumping fists and crazy dancing.

By the end of the first set, most everyone in the amphitheater swayed, clapped or bust out their best air guitar. Steve swayed stiffly with his red plastic cup. His left hand remained stuffed in his pocket where he held onto his phone, willing it to vibrate—to have Michelle call him.

    The mind numbing music crashed into his skull—making conversation impossible. Although he knew the word to every song, he never parted his lips. Two women in front of him stood on their seats and shook their middle-aged asses with youthful abandon. White wine sloshed from their cups and spilled onto the taller woman's blouse. Her date, a large forty year-old something with a goatee and a chain dangling from his wallet, licked the spilled wine from her neck.

    Steve crinkled his face in disgust.

    "Lighten up dude!" Chad yelled at him.

    "Nobody has class anymore!" Steve yelled back. The goatee turned around and glared at Steve. Chad smiled and waved.

    "Try not to get us killed," Chad said. "Here, you got to loosen up."  Chad reached into pocket and pulled out a doobie. He lit the end, took in a long drag and passed it to Steve.

    "What? No way!"  Steve sniffed the second hand smoke. "Where'd you even get that?"

    "My neighbor," he yelled. "Grows it medicinal. And if anyone's sick, it's you!" 

Steve reached into his pocket and looked at his phone. A splash of white wine spilled over his arm and he jerked it out of the way. "What the hell!" 

    "Sorrwy," cackled the woman in front of him. "But dude, time to paaaarrrrty."  

    Just as Steve went to respond, the goatee turned around and exposed the chain link tattoo around his bicep. He put his arm on his date and continued to sing. 

    "Hey man," Chad said to Steve. "These men lift things for a living. Heavy things."

    "I don't know why I'm here," Steve said.

     Chad held the joint to Steve. "Just take a hit and let yourself go."

***

    Claire took the keys to her brother's truck. She texted Sophia "on my way" and ran upstairs to set up her room:  music on, computer beeping and door closed.

She double checked that Drew was in his room—door locked.

Clutching her learner's permit, Claire slid into the driver's seat. She pushed Drew's AP physics folders off the passenger's seat and thought through the check list from driver's training.

She started the engine and pulled away from the curb, 

but she forgot to turn on the headlights.

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