Who Knows When (Joger/Dealor)

Chapter 51

I glared at John from the back of the bar, watching him work the stage like he was the leader of the band. Sure, he was still just playing bass while Tim remained front and center, but there was this new aura he gave off, interacting with Humpy Bong like he'd been there from the start. The others played into it too, giving the foursome the presence they desperately needed but lacked the night before. It drove the audience wild.

As for me, I couldn't stand it. It made me sick to see John enjoying himself so much. I'd never seen him smile as much as he was tonight, especially not with Queen, and that struck a wrong chord in me.

I tried to smile every time he'd look my way, but I couldn't. My lips would twitch, wanting to curl upward into the facial expression they were expected to form, but I'd just end up looking away and instead pursing them around the edge of my glass, inhaling the drink that burned my throat on its way down and demanding the barkeep to fetch me another one.

It was a dangerous game I was playing, flirting with another night I wouldn't remember come morning, but who would want to remember the night they realized they were losing the only person they've ever loved?

I wasn't stupid. I might have acted like it sometimes, and sure, some things that Brian's said have gone straight over my head, but I wasn't stupid. I could feel the distance growing between John and me, and I didn't think there was anything that I could do to stop it. Humpy Bong had given him exactly what he wanted; what everyone wants. I didn't think he'd take the bait so easily, but I guess I was wrong. After all, I thought the same thing about Tim.

I threw my head back and downed the drink I had in my hand, slamming the glass back down on the bar and saying, "Hit me."

The bartender flashed me a disapproving look before snatching the glass to reluctantly prepare me another drink and informing me that it was going to be my last one. I waved a dismissive hand at him before crossing my arms over my chest and looking back at the stage, watching as the band finished the song they were playing with a bang. The crowd exploded into near deafening applause and cheer, to which my face scrunched up in distaste.

"Say, what's your boy doing up there?" a voice rung in my ear, cutting through the thunderous clamor and drawing my attention over my shoulder to see the one and only Dominique sitting beside me, the corner of her lip perked up into a sly grin.

"Well, I could ask the same about my girl," I retorted, my voice slurred as I turned around in my chair to face her and leaned across the bar to shorten the distance between us. "But instead of up there, she's right here." I tapped her on the nose, causing her to recoil.

"I'm not your girl, Roger," she muttered somewhat disappointedly under her breath, smashing her cigarette into the dish on the counter, "I never was."

I frowned. "Oh, don't say that. We had some great nights together."

"One night," she corrected me bluntly, her raccoon-resembling eyes flickering over to me as she reminisced bitterly, "The other night, you left me for him." Her head tilted towards the stage, where the band had gone into their next song that sounded almost identical to the last one except for the words. I took a quick glance back at them, catching a glimpse of John as he played in front of the drums, his back to the drummer and his head hung low as he brought his hand up to lick his fingers—something he did when his fingers started to "stick" to the strings.

"I'm not mad at you, though," Dominique blurted out, resting her arm on my shoulder and bringing my gaze back to her, "I can't be."

"Well you should be," I chuckled, nodding my head in gratitude as the bartender set my drink down. I reached out for the cold glass and brought it up to my lips, getting in a quick, "I certainly am," before gulping the alcohol down in one big, long sip.