Right after our set, I made my way through the small group of women waiting for us offstage and headed out the back door of the club.

“You better come back, Dec!” Trevor yelled after me. “You promised. Remember?”

“Yeah, yeah.” I jogged around the building to grab a cab back to my place to drop off my guitar and let Kitty take care of business. Unfortunately, I’d let the adrenaline of the show and my need for a strong drink make me agree to hang out with my bandmates as soon as I was done, so I had to come back.

---

Normally, after a gig we’d all help carry our equipment out to our volunteer roadie’s van. Then I’d say good night to the guys before they went back into the venue and I went home. Tonight, in exchange for my promise to come back, Trevor told me they’d take care of loading up our stuff, so I could make a quick trip home and still get back before everyone was wasted.

So, after telling Kitty I’d rather hang out with her and would be home as soon as I could, I went back to the club. I got there just in time to see to our one-and-only roadie, Ed, packing up the last of our equipment into the passenger side of his van.

Ed—or as he was known by his small following of fans, DJ REC’Ed, and pronounced like ‘wrecked’—jumped about a foot off the ground when I smacked him on his back. Thankfully, the piece of sound equipment was only about two inches above the seat when he let go of it.

“Holy shit, man! You just knocked two years off my life.”

I shrugged. “They’ll come off the end, so I wouldn’t be too busted up about it.”

“Are you kidding? That’s two years less of being a dirty old man who can get away with anything.”

“I see your point,” I said, “and I apologize for making you scream like a little girl. Now, please tell me that the guys didn’t make you load everything up by yourself.”

“They did fine. The last couple things are mine, and no one else is allowed to touch them. You need to stop treating them like they’re your kids, Dec. They really can manage without you looking over their shoulders.” He shook his head before diving halfway into the passenger side and moving shit around.

“At least for the small stuff,” he added, chuckling as he came back out.

“You really think I treat them like children?”

He slammed the door and turned to face me. “I get it—sometimes they act like children. But if you keep treating them as if they can’t take care of themselves, don’t be surprised when you’re right. ’Cause you’ll have been the one who taught them they can’t manage on their own.”

Legally, Ed wasn’t even old enough to get into the clubs we played. Thankfully, nobody ever carded the twenty-year-old musical prodigy who helped carry in our stuff and set up his gerry-rigged sound equipment alongside the venues’ that made us sound even better.

“Are all DJs so wise or just the ones who are going to be household names someday?”

Just referring to him as a DJ made the volume of his smile turn up all the way. He spent all his free time staring at his computer with his headphones on, sampling different pieces of music and magically turning them into something totally different. That part of the industry made no sense to me, and I had to respect the talent and work he put into it.

He’d gotten work DJ’ing a few small events but was still waiting for his big break. Until then, he was happy to learn about the music business by helping us out, and we were ecstatic to let him.

“You want to sneak inside for a few minutes and have a drink? My treat.”

“Can’t.” Ed shook his head and pointed at the van. “Loading zone only. Besides, I do my best mixing at night.”

“Yeah, probably should make the most of the time you have left. Since I accidently stole two years of it.” I stuck out my hand to shake his. “Thanks, Ed. See you later.”

I watched him jump into the driver’s side and drive off before going through the back door of the club and kicking away the cement block he’d used to prop it open.

I went around the side of the stage and out into the crowd. The whole area was packed so tightly, I had to look at the ceiling just to suck in a somewhat clear breath of air. Still stank like booze and sweat, though. And yet, these were members of the privileged class who dropped two hundred bucks for cologne and had free all-you-can-waste access to clean water.

As I pushed my way through, I thanked the people who told me they’d enjoyed the show and absorbed a few overzealous congratulatory smacks on my back. All I wanted to do was to have a drink with the guys and get Trevor home before he passed out somewhere dangerous. Although, at least if he fell unconscious here, his body would be kept fully upright by all these fucking people.

I didn’t see him until I was practically on top of him. Still mostly conscious but looking as if he were trying his damnedest to take the “mostly” out of my assessment. How long had I been gone? Damn it. So much for having a drink of my own. He’d probably already emptied out the bar.

“Trev!” I yelled in his ear. “Come on, big fella. I’m taking you home.”

We were standing too close to each other for him to push me away. I grabbed his arm and dragged him behind me, forcing bodies apart so both of us could pass. I held back a curse when I felt someone’s stiletto dig into my Chucks.

Just keep swimming. Upstream. Like a fucking salmon.

“Wait!” he yelled as if we were actually moving. “Let go of me!” He continued to yell at me while yanking his arm from my grip. If he’d had more control over his motor skills, he might’ve had a chance of getting away. The one perk of his drinking problem.

I let go of him as soon as we cleared the mob and could breathe again, shaking out my sore foot and checking to see if the heel had left a bloody hole in my shoe.

“Hey, Dec!” Trevor said, surprised. Damn it, he’d just realized it was me.

“Somebody drags your sorry ass out of that pit, and you didn’t know it was me? What if it had been—?” Who? Who would be stupid enough to drag a drunk out of the middle of a mosh pit? “A cop!”

“You’re not a cop.”

I nodded slowly, wiping a sweaty lock of hair off my forehead. “I’m glad you still have a good understanding of the obvious.”

We had to yell to hear each other over the music, even standing a foot away from each other. He wiggled his eyebrows and moved his mouth, but for the life of me, I couldn’t decipher what he said.

“Say that again ’cause I’m sure it was important.”

He didn’t catch my sarcasm. “Mumble-mumble-here-mumble-for you.”

“Sounds good. Even though I still have no idea what you just said.”

He grabbed my collar and pulled me into him. “I said,” he yelled into my ear, “I found Sara! She was here looking for you a couple minutes ago. Surprise!”

As I was waving away the flammable fumes of his breath, the words sank in.

“Sara. My Sara?” Then I added, “Who isn’t mine.”

“There are a lot of Sara’s who aren’t yours, man.” He laughed. “But this Sara who isn’t yours is about this tall.” He held up his hand to his belly, which meant he was either dumb as shit or talking about a small child. Probably both. “Wait. That’s not right.” He finally moved his hand up to a more reasonable approximation of Sara’s height. “And she’s blond and hot and has…” He squished up his mouth. “Um…lots of good...parts.” For the big finish, he actually pantomimed holding those good parts as if he had two of his own.

“Yes, Trev, she’s got amazing breasts. I know this, and obviously, you know this. It’s not an international secret.”

Trevor nodded. “Considering where they are.”

I looked at my friend with serious doubt of whether I wanted to keep considering him one. “You need to stop drinking. Now. And take a cab home.”

“Yessssir,” he answered, smiling sloppily. Probably having already forgotten my suggestion.

But I needed to know if he’d really been talking about the Sara I wanted to see. Was she really here? Shit. What if she’d seen us play? I’d told her I was a writer—which was true—so maybe she’d think the band was just a hobby. Lots of normal guys with normal jobs play in bands on the weekend. Not at huge clubs like Tunnel Vision, but maybe that wouldn’t occur to her.

Wait. If I actually got a chance to talk to her again, did I really want to have another lie ready? We’d moved past that. In fact, she’d made herself perfectly clear last time we saw each other. She wasn’t offering what I wanted and vice versa. So, why keep lying about something I shouldn’t have lied about to begin with?

“Focus for one more second, buddy. Then we’ll get a cab.” I snapped my fingers in front of Trevor’s face. “What did she say besides my name?”

“She asked about the band, but mostly she asked about you. I introduced her to Sam and Pete.”

Great. Now they’d have more fodder to tease me with.

“She really likes you, Dec. And you like her. That’s why I invited her to come tonight. For you.” He poked me in the chest with his finger. “Because you’re too stupid to go after her yourself, and you deserve somebody who makes you happy. You’re welcome, my friend.”

“Thanks, Trev.” Although I wasn’t sure how thankful I felt. When had he invited her? What did he tell her about me?

He glanced around the club for who knows what before opening his eyes and mouth widely and pointing toward the bar. “Hey! There’s the chick who was with her.” There were a dozen different women he could’ve been pointing at.

“The one in the red dress.”

Shockingly, there was only one in a red dress.

As much as I’d have liked to talk to her, especially if Sara were still here somewhere, I had a drunk to take care of. Fuck it. As long as Trevor didn’t drink anything else… Speaking of which…

I took the empty beer bottle out of his fist. “Let’s go talk to her, buddy.”

“And then I can get another beer.”

“No, that’s not going to happen. But I do respect your perseverance.” I grabbed both of his shoulders, spun him around, and marched him toward the woman in the red dress. “Hang out here a second, Trev. Then we’ll go.”

“M’kay.” Trevor got distracted by something only he saw and pulled away from me to go find it. I really wanted to find out if Sara was still here and if she’d seen the set, but I couldn’t do that with two hands on my friend. So, I let him go. Right after I slipped his wallet out of his pocket just in case. Since he wasn’t female, no money meant no more drinks.

I had to be quick. I walked up to the woman in red, knowing there was a good chance Trevor had gotten her mixed up with someone else. Or that the Sara who'd asked for me wasn’t the one I wanted it to be.

I tapped the woman on the shoulder. “Hey, are you a friend of Sara…?” Fuck, I didn’t even know her last name. And they were probably fifty thousand women named Sara in San Francisco.

Oh shit. The smile that had appeared when she turned around disappeared faster than it had shown up.

“Oh, my gosh.” Her excitement was non-existent, but her sarcasm was completely on point. “If it isn’t Declan Hollis.” She downed the rest of whatever she’d been drinking. If the glossiness of her eyes was any indication, that glass hadn’t been the first she’d emptied tonight.

“Hey, Carissa,” I said hesitantly. “Small world. Good to see you again.” I was ninety-nine percent sure Trevor had pointed me toward the wrong woman, but I had to check on that last one percent. “Do you know a woman—?

“You guys need to figure out what the fuck is going on between you.”

“Me and…” I said slowly, “Trevor?”

“No,” she grumbled. “You and Sara. It’s annoying.”

“Sorry about that.” Although, I wasn’t exactly sure what that was. Did she mean Sara was complaining about me in the same stupid, confusing way as I was with Trevor? “Maybe, if I knew where Sara was, she and I could talk and stop annoying our friends.” I looked at her with a pitiful expression until she responded.

She shrugged. “Worth a shot. Although, you know how she is.”

No, I didn’t. Not really. But I wanted to. “Can you tell me where she is?”

“She tried to find you, but I haven’t seen her in a while.”

“How long ago?”

“She tried to get close to you right after your set was done, but she couldn’t get past those girls who swarmed you.” She took a step closer to me and tilted her head. “That’s gotta be freaky. Women just coming up, thinking they can have a piece of you.”

“It’s pretty freaky alright.”

“Seriously, Declan...”

Almost as freaky as hearing my name slurred like that.

“You look so fucking hot when you sing. If things don’t work out between you and Sara, I’d be happy to take your mind of it.”

“Thanks, Carissa,” I said. “That’s…nice of you.”

If she could actually remember this moment in the morning, she would probably regret coming on to the guy her friend kept annoying her about.

“Did she say where she was going?”

“Can you believe she didn't know who you were? Not a clue. I’m mean, not that you’re world-famous...yet. But you’re California-famous. And West Coast-famous. And a lot of other places-famous.”

So Sara knew. She must have found out before Trevor had invited her to see us play. But when? Before or after she’d listened to my idiotic attempt to keep her from finding out?

“Seriously, Declan, you should’ve seen her face when I told her…” She turned back to the bar and waved at the bartender’s back. “Hey, Micky!”

“When did you tell her? Carissa?” Damn, I was losing her. “Hey.” I patted her shoulder, knowing my time to find out anything else was almost up. “When did you tell Sara about me?”

“Micky!” When the bartender turned our way, she looked down to get her glass.

Luckily, I was a head taller than her, so he could see me, too. I shook my head and signaled that he should cut her off.

“Bastard,” she yelled when he pretended he hadn’t heard her and went to get someone else’s order. “I was with her at the karaoke bar that night, you know that? It was my idea to go there to begin with. If I hadn’t begged her to come with me it could’ve been you and me that night.”

I thought about repeating my question a third time, but it wasn’t worth it. “I’m gonna find you a ride home, okay? Right after you tell me where Sara went.”

She looked up, trying to access a memory that couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes old. Then she shrugged. “To your guy’s house, I guess.”

My breath stopped. “What guy?”

“Your drum guy.” She pantomimed playing. “Um...Sam!”

“Wait a sec. She went home with Sam?” I felt my body tighten, my hand curl into a fist. Sam knew I was interested in her. He’d had just as much fun teasing me about it as Trevor had. Almost as much, anyway.

If she’d been asking about me, how the fuck did both of them decide it was a good idea to go home together?

Carissa leaned toward me to whisper, but it came out just as loud as every other word she’d said. “Every girl should sleep with someone in a band at least once in her life. I told her that.” The more she said, the more I wished this noise would drown her out. “Not a shitty nothing band, a good one. Like yours.” She laughed. “I still can’t believe she didn’t know who you even were. Isn’t that crazy?”

“Yep. Pretty crazy.” It was impossible to laugh with all my brainpower being used up by the idea that Sam had taken Sara home. Was everyone going crazy? Including me?

“She thought you were just a regular guy.”

“I am just a regular guy,” I mumbled.

I grew up with an alcoholic as a best friend, and my office consisted of whichever nightclub or special event venue we booked that week. So, I’d had more than my fair share of conversations with drunks. That’s why, when Carissa’s lips turned into a pout, I knew she had already derailed from her previous thought and was about to switch to a completely different topic.

“Declan,” she whined, leaning on me. “Will you take me to the Grammys? Your drummer guy said he’d take Sara, but I want to go, too.”

What came out of my mouth didn’t qualify as a laugh. “First off, the drummer guy isn’t going to the Grammys. Second—” Why bother explaining anything to someone who didn’t care? Fuck it. I was beginning to wonder if anyone cared about anything anymore. “Carissa, are you here with someone?”

When she bit her lower lip, I added, “Someone who can make sure you get home.”

“Sara, but she left,” she said, shaking her head. “Didn’t I just tell you that?”

“Come with me.” I offered her my arm, which she happily took, and went outside. I put her in the first cab I saw, handing the driver forty bucks and repeating the address Carissa had given me. Hopefully not because she assumed I was going with her.

“Good night, Carissa. Make sure you take an aspirin and drink some water as soon as you get home.” I slammed the door on her confused expression, wanting to scream, break something, throw a huge temper tantrum in the middle of the road.

And the most fucked-up part is that no one would be surprised. Because guys in bands get loaded and fuck whoever’s the closest. Right? Guys in bands didn't want to get to know a woman because he thought there was something special about her, something he wanted to figure out. Guys in bands shared the spoils of being guys in bands and didn’t care when one of them took home a woman his friend was confused about.

I stormed back into the club to find Trevor, cursing him, everyone else in this hellhole, and the two people I’d thought I knew who had left earlier…together.

Fuck it. Sam hadn’t forced her. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that the joke was on me for thinking she was different. Different than anybody else who wanted nothing from me but a good fuck and to say she’d screwed a musician. I’d met enough of them—you’d think I’d be able to recognize the signs.

But no. I’d thought Sara was real. I’d thought she actually liked me. I’d even considered the possibility that we could last—because she hadn’t known who I was. Didn’t see me as that guy in the band. Actually saw me as a man. As me.

But she’d already known who I was, probably from the very first night we were together. Carissa must have recognized me at the karaoke bar and filled Sara in when they’d gone to the bathroom or something. So, while I’d thought everything was real, it had been just as phony as everything else. And the fact that she was the most amazing woman I’d ever been with made me feel even worse.

More used.

More used up.

“I want out of this life!” Even though I screamed it, the music was too loud for anyone to hear me.

Or maybe they had, and they just didn’t care. Because it didn’t matter what that guy in the band wanted anyway, did it?