Shadows From the Abyss

Bar Night

"Fuck me up!" Tre yelled as he entered the white tent backstage.

"You gotta sign this first," Art smirked, sliding a piece of paper across the bar.

Tre picked up the paper and raised an eyebrow. "You're having me sign a waiver to drink?"

"You told me to bring my A game, so I'm covering my ass for when you think you're dying tomorrow," Art slid a pen across the bar.

" 'I, Frank Wright, being of sound mind and body,' that's debatable, 'give Arthur Miller permission to nuke my liver and wreck my soul with alcohol, per my request on September 1st, 2017 in Raleigh, North Carolina. I relinquish all rights to yell at, disparage, or slander my bar tender in any way, shape or form. I told him to destroy me, and he did, and it is my own damn fault.' You should be a fuckin lawyer with this."

"My Dad taught me that one. Also, if you ever taze someone in public, jump back and yell 'Oh God he's having a seizure'."

Tre signed the makeshift waiver and slammed the pen down. "Now fuck me up, kid!"

*

Shawn sat beside Billie, who was being good and drinking water while everyone around them in the packed tent were becoming more intoxicated. Liquor and beer were freely flowing, a game of beer pong was going on, Pearl Jam was blaring from the Bluetooth speaker Art had brought with him, and everyone was having a blast. Crew members, both bands, the drivers were even letting loose. No one went anywhere until late the following night so who cared tonight? And Shawn's boyfriend was the one leading the charge and opening the gates for debauchery.

"Have you talked to my sister today?" Shawn asked.

Billie nodded. "She's still pretty upset about the dog but it'll be okay."

The music suddenly changed, Pearl Jam fading out and Fuck Time causing everyone in the tent to erupt with cheers, singing along as loud as they could.

"Oh Jesus," Shawn groaned, catching a glimpse of Art screaming along at the top of his lungs.

"Your boy knows how to work a crowd," Billie laughed.

"Baby!" Art called out, pushing past several people with three drinks in hand.

"How's obliterating my drummer going?" Billie asked as Art handed him a glass.

"Really well; I don't wanna kill him but he's gonna be down for the count after two more. I brought you a whiskey sour, a Glass Slipper for my Prince Charming, and whatever the hell I want for me," He grinned boldly. "Gentlemen, here's to the future,"

**

Art put his head back and smiled before pulling the cigarette out of his mouth and blowing a plume of smoke into the humid night air. It had been a fantastic night running his makeshift bar for the bands and crew. He had over two hundred dollars in cash from tips, a lot of alcohol left over, and a perfect boyfriend sitting beside him in the open doorway of the van to share a cigarette and bottle of Jack Daniel's with. "How'd I do tonight?"

"Pretty fantastic," Shawn smiled before taking a swig from the bottle. "So did you get Dad to bed okay?"

Art tried not to laugh. When Tre had finally put his head down on the bar and admitted defeat, he had been kind enough to carry him back to the bus to put him to bed.

"Alright good sir," He grunted, loading the older man into his bunk, "it's bedtime."

"You did good, kid." Tre slurred with a lazy smile. "You did fuckin good."