Rum & Ginger (10 page)

O
VER
THE
next few weeks, Chance and Ben fell back into a familiar rhythm. The tension slowly evaporated, and they returned to their original routine, mostly working opposite shifts and not seeing one another often. They went out to dinner and a movie when their days off lined up. Chance worked on his game, and neither of them spoke of Ben’s bar. They’d even had sex the previous evening.

Before that, Ben had coffee with Brodie a few times. Their conversations grew more spirited each time, and Ben found them infinitely interesting. Brodie invited Lena and Ben to see his band play at one of the dive bars in the east end. When Derek called Ben to have a drink, he told Derek about the show and asked if he wanted to tag along. Derek agreed, and Ben picked his friends up on his way.

“Where are they playing?” Derek asked from the backseat of Ben’s Prius.

“The Boot,” Ben replied.

“The Boot?” Derek repeated. “I’ve never heard of it.”

“It’s a shit hole,” Lena explained. “But the drinks are cheap, and they get some kick-ass bands. It’s sort of a punk bar.”

“Is that why you’re dressed like a militant hooker?” Derek asked her.

“Duh. Yes.” Lena turned in her seat, stuck her tongue out, and forked Derek the devil horns.

“Great.” Derek sat back in the seat.

“It’s got a certain charm.” Ben pulled up along the street about a block away from the bar. “I wish we would have had a place like this in town when we were kids.”

“Right?” Lena agreed.

“We had to drive all the way to State College to see a decent punk show.” Ben put the car in park and switched off the engine.

“Damn. Those were some great shows, though.” Lena checked her cell phone. “Remember when we saw the Dead Milkmen?”

“And you got kicked out for punching that guy in the face.” Ben laughed. They climbed out of the car.

“Jesus.” Derek stood on the sidewalk, studying Lena. “Are you going to punch anybody in the face tonight?”

“If I have to,” Lena said seriously.

Derek paled at her answer, and she started laughing.

“I’m just fucking with you, Derek.” She punched him playfully on the arm. Ben chuckled at the look on Derek’s face.

“Yeah. Right. Good one,” Derek said as they walked to the stairs that led to the Boot.

I
NSIDE
,
THE
Boot was loud, dark, smoky, and filthy. The walls were all painted black, as was the ceiling, but almost every surface was covered with past show flyers and stickers of the bands who had played there. Ben grinned broadly. He’d been to plenty of places like this in New York and Philly. It warmed his heart that someone had opened up this kind of bar in Liamsport. The bar and dance floor were crowded with people. It was a great mix too. Not just punkers. There were hipsters, metalheads, and plenty of kids who didn’t fit any of those labels.

He shouldn’t have been so surprised that the clientele was much younger than himself and his companions, but he still felt a little out of place. Lena howled and ran up to a group of ska kids Ben recognized as another local band. She embraced them and started a conversation. If Lena felt out of place, she certainly didn’t show it. She waved Ben and Derek over and introduced them to the P-Bone Ska Kings.

“I’m going to go get drinks,” Derek leaned in and yelled. “Shots?”

“Hell yeah!” Lena answered.

“How about you guys?” Derek indicated the band. They answered affirmatively as well, and Derek left to push his way through the crowd to the bar while Ben and Lena talked with the Ska Kings. Derek returned soon enough with the shots. The group toasted and drank.

“My turn,” Lena shouted and ran to the bar. It took her a bit longer because she stopped to talk to almost everyone she saw. Ben decided to join her when she reached the bar. “I love this place,” she shouted.

“Yeah. This is pretty great, but I feel a little weird with all these kids,” Ben told her.

“Oh come on. You’re only as old as you feel. Get immature.” Lena ordered a round of shots.

Ben ordered two pitchers of lager and asked for seven cups. “You’re like Yoda.”

“Fuck off, you will. Or in the face I will punch you,” she responded. They laughed at her joke and gathered their drinks, then picked their way back to the table. Ben decided to take Lena’s odd advice and let himself just enjoy the evening.

Two bands played before Brodie’s. They were pretty average small-town punk bands, but the music was fast and hard. Ben and Lena danced vigorously. Derek stood with one hand in his pocket, holding a drink and bobbing his head with the beat. The bar grew hotter with the press of bodies moving to the music. Ben’s skin was flushed with sweat, and he felt better than he had in weeks. He loved giving himself over to the music, getting lost in the beat and the movement.

The second band finished with a grinding cover of the Ramones’ “I Wanna Be Sedated,” and the crowd cheered. Lena used the lull between bands to get more drinks. Ben had switched over to soda since he was driving. When he felt his phone vibrate, he pulled it out and read the text from Chance.

Home anytime soon?

Last band is about to play. Not sure how long.

K.
Ben read the single letter and shrugged.

“Lucky worried you aren’t coming home?” Derek asked.

“Just wondering when. He probably wants to go to sleep already,” Ben replied.

“Geez. What is he, a little old lady?” Derek snorted.

“I don’t know.” Ben was about to continue defending Chance, but he was interrupted by the crowd suddenly cheering. The MC had taken the stage again to introduce Brodie and his band, Uncivil Disobedience.

“That’s kind of a long name,” Derek observed. If he said anything else, it was lost in the cheering of the audience and the sudden grind of a guitar.

Brodie bound onto the stage and grabbed the center microphone. “What’s up, Li-Po? Are you fuckers ready to get your faces melted?” The motley audience screamed their consent to have their faces melted, Ben right along with them. The guitarist on Brodie’s right, who Ben recognized as Braden, tore out a wicked riff. “Fuck!” Brodie shouted into the mike, and the band took the cue, roaring into action.

The next forty-five minutes were insane. Brodie and his band were amazing. Normally punk was just the repetition of three chords pounded out with more violence than finesse. But Uncivil Disobedience could actually play, and Brodie not only could sing his ass off but damn, he moved like an angel. Ben was almost as amazed by the music as he was enthralled with the way Brodie’s body undulated to the beat. They were obviously pouring everything they had into their performance, and midway through the set Brodie tore off his shirt, drenched with sweat. They barely paused between songs, and by the time they were finished, the band weren’t the only ones panting from exertion.

“Thank you! We’re Uncivil Disobedience!” The crowd cheered as the band disassembled their instruments and packed up. Ben craned his neck to see if Brodie would return, hoping they wouldn’t just leave. Lena and Derek were just as amazed as Ben. They discussed the performance excitedly until a small commotion near the stage drew their attention. Ben was happy to see a familiar fauxhawk, now died a festive electric blue, cutting through the crowd.

Brodie emerged from the throng of bodies, and when his gaze fell on Ben, his face split into an enormous smile. “Ben! Lena!” He ran over and embraced Ben. Ben tried to ignore that Brodie was still shirtless and his skin was still slightly sticky with sweat. He also tried not to be too disappointed when Brodie released him and hugged Lena. “And Derek?” he yelled, offering his hand rather than embracing their third friend. “How’d they talk you into this?”

“It didn’t take much. I love this shit,” Derek answered, shaking Brodie’s hand.

“That’s awesome!” Brodie appeared to be unable to stop smiling.

“No.
You
were awesome!” Lena stated.

“Truly, Brodie,” Ben agreed.

“We need drinks!” Brodie motioned to the bartender. “What does everybody want? We’re comped.”

“Lager,” Lena and Derek answered in unison.

“Nothing for me,” Ben said. “I’m DD.”

“That sucks, dude.” Brodie looked disappointed. “Not even one?”

Ben considered it but shook his head. “No. I shouldn’t. Next time I’ll make one of these guys drive.”

“Fair enough,” Brodie replied. “You want a soda at least?”

“Sure,” Ben said. Brodie handed out the drinks as they arrived and then offered a toast, thanking them for coming to the show. He noticed his bandmates emerging from backstage and motioned them over, then ordered more drinks. Brodie introduced everyone, and they traded praise and thanks. It seemed to Ben everyone in the bar was elbowing for a chance to get to speak to Brodie and his bandmates.

Brodie did his best to give everyone equal attention. Ben, Lena, and Derek lingered off to the side as the band addressed their adoring public. There were quite a few young ladies vying for Brodie’s attention. Ben felt a little sorry for them. The bar crowd thinned out now that the bands had finished playing and more than a few people had left. Girls got their pictures taken with the bands. The bartender shouted last call. Ben was getting a little bored. He never thought he’d welcome last call.

“Are you guys about ready to head out?” he asked Lena and Derek. They nodded and grabbed one last drink before they left. Ben got Brodie’s attention.

“What’s up?” he asked when he joined Ben.

“We’re going to head out.”

“Did you have a good time?”

“Oh hell yeah,” Ben replied. “It was fucking great.”

“I’m glad you liked us. You’ll really have to come out sometime when you can drink. We’ll make sure to have an after-party as well.” Brodie winked.

“That sounds awesome,” Ben said. Lena and Derek returned with their drinks.

“Mom’s making us leave,” Lena told Brodie, indicating Ben.

“I’m really flattered that you guys came out for the show. Seriously, it means a lot to me.” Brodie hugged Lena. Then Ben.

“You’ll have to let me know when the next show is,” Derek said.

“Definitely,” Brodie answered. Derek surprised Brodie by giving him a quick man hug.

“All right. Finish your drinks, kids. It’s time to go.” Ben fished his phone out of his pocket and checked the time. Only one forty-five. Lena and Derek obediently sucked back their beers. They bid Brodie farewell once more and then left the smoky interior of the Boot for the fresh air of the street.

B
EN
DROPPED
his friends off at their respective homes without incident. When he pulled up in front of his house, he saw the blue light of the computer monitor in the office window and felt hopeful that Chance was still awake. Maybe they’d be able to have another delightful evening together. Ben smiled at the thought and stopped before ascending the front steps, deciding to go around the back and surprise Chance.

Ben slid his key into the lock and twisted as slowly as he could, making little noise. He would give Chance a good shoulder massage while he finished whatever mission he was on in his game or whatever scene he was role-playing in his fan fiction. Then they could move on to other things. Ben turned the doorknob, lifting it slightly so the old door lined up better with the frame. He opened it silently.

Ben stepped into the kitchen and slowly closed the door, turning the latch. The bolt slid home with a resounding click that Ben was sure Chance would hear. Ben held his breath and listened. He could hear Chance’s voice, speaking softly, and nothing else. He must be talking to the other people in his party. He hadn’t heard. Good.

Ben crept through the kitchen. He laid his keys aside as silently as he could and slipped off his shoes. He could still hear Chance as he moved into the dining room toward the glow of Chance’s game room.

“That’s good.” Ben heard Chance say in a husky growl. What the hell quest was he on? “Oh, Cartha. You’re amazing.”

“What the fuck?” Ben whispered. He crept up to the doorway, and his jaw dropped at what he saw. Chance sat in his gaming chair with his dick in his hand, stroking. On his screen were his avatar and a female, both in a state of undress in a pool of water. Both avatars just stood there. Ben could guess why.

“Yes. Tell me what you’ll do to me,” Chance said into his headset, quickening his strokes. Ben’s blood boiled. It was like Chance was cheating on him twice: once with a female noble-whatever and a second time with a dude named Chuck.

Ben’s fists balled at his sides. “Motherfucker!” he shouted.

Chance spun in his chair, his eyes wide in shock. “Ben!”

“You fucking motherfucker!”

“Shit.” Chance tried to stuff his slackening erection back into his pants as he stood. “Shit. Ben. Shit. Oh my God. This isn’t—”

“Isn’t what? Isn’t you having weird gaming phone sex with Chuckles?” Ben roared the question.

“I… Ben,” Chance sputtered.

“No! Just fucking save it. I’m done. This is too fucking much. I’m out of here.”