Like Audrey, another person forced to keep secrets for James, I thought.
I walked up to Anne, still behind the counter, and showed her the bottles. She seemed to know to put them away discretely without me saying anything, then gave me a wink. Lauren was in line and looked up, and I gave a little wave. She gave an awkward little wave back. Just then, James came out of the same store room that she had just seen me come out of, carrying two more bottles of whiskey. Lauren quickly put her hand back down and looked at the floor.
Poor girl, I thought. She thinks she's witnessing something super fucked up, and she can't say a thing. I didn't even know if she knew that we weren't really brother and sister.
I walked back around. The coffee shop was filling up fast, so I knew I had to claim a seat quickly. James had been tuning his guitar on the left side of the stage and was already plugged into an amp, so I knew that he'd be over there. Luckily, there was one on the far left in the third row, and I snatched it up. The concert wasn't set to start for another 30 minutes or so, so I pulled out my
phone and began to look over myFace.
Suddenly, I received an email from Tessa.
Did you talk to him yet?
I knew she was just looking out for me, but I also knew that I could look out for myself. Well, most of the time anyway. Still, I'd be fine for now. I emailed her back.
Not yet. His concert is going to start in a few minutes, then there's a party back at his place.
Tessa replied back almost immediately.
Hold onto your drink all night.
Now that was an eye-roll inducing statement. Did she think that James had roofied Audrey now? That was pretty unfair. I emailed her back as quickly as I could.
I'll let you know how it goes.
Then I turned off my phone. I didn't need to hear any more from her after that. By this point, James was back on stage, tuning his guitar again. I expected him to occasionally look down at me, but he was completely engrossed in that guitar.
It kind of reminded me of the single-mindedness with which he pursued his business. Oblivious to the world around him, he made deals for the simple joy of making them. The guitar was the same way. I could tell he was enjoying it, that he took joy in making his guitar sound perfect. I felt like it gave me an insight into his soul.
A guy walked out on stage. I had seen him before, working on the sound system. What was his name? Ryan. He looked more confident now than he had been when James was yelling at him about his little sister's karaoke machine. His short hair was a sandy blonde, he had bolts in his ears, and I could see tattoos on his body. He looked like the embodiment of a bad boy rocker. It seemed a little strange, but he was holding a large reusable grocery bag.
He stepped to the mic, then looked at James. James nodded at him. Ryan smiled and grabbed the mic. “Who's ready for Lefty and the Sharks?”
A cheer came up from the crowd. It was hardly a huge crowd, maybe sixty or seventy people, but they filled this half of the coffee shop to the brim. However, a few of them were quite enthusiastic, sending a few hoots and hollers up to the band.
A drummer sat down at his set, and another guy had a bass guitar. Ryan didn't have a guitar, but I guessed he was going to be doing the singing tonight.
“Now, I know that you all know that I don't have a liquor license, so I can't sell you any alcohol. However...” He bent down and pulled a bottle of whiskey from the bag that he had brought on stage. “That doesn't mean that I can't give away some to my friends. With the purchase of a coffee, of course.”
Another cheer came from the crowd. He bent down and handed the bottle to someone in the first row. I saw Anne pull out the two bottles of whiskey from behind the counter and some disposable plastic shot glasses. I was pretty sure that it was just as illegal for him to give the alcohol away as it was to sell it, but then again, I'm sure James could buy his way out of any trouble here. Maybe he had even cleared it with the cops first. James was the type who would have all his bases covered like that.
Ryan took another bottle out of the bag, then opened it up. He took a huge gulp of it, then passed it to James. He also took a drink, then passed it to the drummer. They all took a drink before Ryan put it back down on the stage. “Now who came here to hear us play?”
Another cheer came up. The drummer clacked his sticks together and they immediately launched into a song. The crowd was on their feet in no time, cheering on the band. I unzipped my jacket, allowing my hands to linger on my belly for just a moment before raising them in the air to cheer as well.
I wish I could tell you about their music. There were some originals, mixed in with some covers of classic rock. I wish I could tell you that the lyrics spoke to me, that I thought they were about me, but I can't. I only listened to James' guitar, letting his music wash over me. Half the time he looked out at the crowd, and mostly at me. The other half of the time, he watched his own fingers move over the frets, taking great passion and pride in making the music sound fantastic.
My eyes never left him. One song blended fantastically into the next. I didn't have a drink, but the crowd was definitely enjoying the booze and music for sure. I know that they played for over an hour, but it felt like just minutes passed. In fact, when the guitars did stop playing, and Ryan said into the mic, “Thank you all for coming, you've been great. There will be no encores,” I was actually surprised that they had been playing that long.
James set his guitar down and walked up to the mic. “The after party is at my apartment. If you have to ask where it is, just follow the line of people walking there. Entry fee will be one of my metal folding chairs, stacked neatly in my studio. See you there!”
As I watched people fold up their chairs and start to carry them out the door, I laughed. Leave it to James to find a way for people to do his work for him. I walked up to the stage. He saw me coming up to him, and put the mic back away in the stand.
“You were great,” I congratulated him.
“I really was on fire tonight,” he said, puffing up a little bit with pride. That cocky attitude was never too far away with James.
“Well, don't quit your day job anyway,” I said.