“Mike, the Man Bun.”
“Oh, him.” I hate him. He joined us a few weeks ago and spends more time in Landry’s company than I like.
“Yes.” She leans forward. “Did you know that he and Keith are seeing each other? I think that’s a recipe for disaster, don’t you?”
“Keith? The lead singer for TA?” I lean back in surprise.
“Yup.”
“No. I had no idea they were seeing each other.” Thinking back, though, I guess I did see the two of them together. “Mike talks a lot of shit.”
She bobs her head in agreement. “At first I didn’t like him, but he’s grown on me. I guess we’re friends now. Like you and me. He told me you went to Juilliard.”
Great. I’ve now been slotted into the gay best friend category. My dick presses urgently against my sweats to prove how hetero he is.
“Nah. I got accepted and turned it down.”
She looks at me expectantly. “Why would you do that?”
“My dad had a stroke and I didn’t want to leave him.”
“Oh no. I’m so sorry. When did that happen? Because I didn’t see it on his—” She breaks off with a guilty expression.
I grin. “Snooping?”
“A little.”
“Find out anything?”
“That you don’t have a lot of pictures out there. I tried to se
nd one to May, but all I could find were band photos.”
“Do you have a lot of pictures on the internet?”
She thinks hard. “I guess not. Too creepy.”
It feels good that she’s looked me up. A nice ego stroke.
“My dad’s thing was kept quiet,” I tell her. “It happened at home, and he has a doctor friend that I called. Medical stuff isn’t supposed to get out anyway.”
“But things get leaked all the time.”
“Mostly by people who can’t keep their shit locked down. Anyway, he’s better now. “
“Do you regret not going to Juilliard? That seems like an amazing experience.”
“Nah, I went to State, roomed with my friend, Finn. You remember him? He helped reno Bessie. I started my own band in college and that was better than going to Juilliard.”
“How many bands have you had?” The question is asked lightly, but it sounds like Mike talked about more than my Juilliard past.
“This is my third. I had one in college. It broke up after we couldn’t get any decent gigs in Chicago because of behind-the-scenes stuff.” No way am I telling her what really went down. She’d think I was a dirty, rotten bastard. “I was in another band right out of college, but I broke my leg at a show. While I was recuperating, the singer took my music and played it with another band. I had to sue him to stop it.”
“God, what a dick!” she exclaims.
“This is my third.” And last, I think.
“Which one do you like best?”