Tabitha looked up from her phone. The parking lot was full, though it was a Sunday afternoon, but there was not another person in sight. A cool breeze ruffled her hair, but the dead quiet of the place chilled her.

Two burly men in tight black tank tops walked out of the alleyway, talking louder than Tabitha thought was strictly necessary. They glanced at her and nodded. Tabitha steeled her gaze and nodded back at them. Were they coming from this supposedly awesome bar Mark suggested? Were they coming from slaughtering animals? Anything seemed possible.

Tabitha took a deep breath and walked into the alley until she came to a doorway painted with a giant number 13 in dripping red paint. She knocked, but no one answered. She leaned on the cold steel of the door and could feel pounding bass notes coming through her palms. A massive security guard in a black jacket leaned around the corner at the far end of the alley. “Entrance is over here. That one’s just for deliveries.”

“Oh. Okay. Ha! Thanks! I’ve never been here before, and I wasn’t sure. My friend is inside; he just told me to go down the alley. But, you know, going down alleys isn’t generally a good idea for a woman. I mean, I know self-defense, so it’s cool, you know? My friend is really tall, too, and has been in lots of fights. Just so you know. Not that I couldn’t kick someone’s ass. I mean, not yours, probably, because Jesus Christ, you are huge! You look like the Rock or something. But it’s okay, because why would I need to kick your ass, right? I could hurt you if I needed to. Just enough to get away, you know. Like, I just think it’s important to be aware and prepared, especially in places where alcohol is involved.”

Tabitha had started talking as she walked down the alleyway, and to her horror, she found she could not stop herself once she started. Her mouth kept moving as she walked toward the security guard, and it kept moving as he held out his hand for her ID and as she reached into her wallet to find it. She talked even faster as he snapped a wristband on her arm and yanked open the side door. While she talked, the guard regarded her with a somnambulant interest, as if he’d fallen asleep with the television on and couldn’t find the remote to turn it off.

When she paused to take a breath, he gestured his left arm toward the pitch-dark interior.

“Welcome to Skull Crusher Brewery. Don’t puke on the floor.”

Tabitha had a follow-up question, but he pressed his hand on her upper back, and she was inside the brewery before she could ask it. The blackness of the room and the wall of deafening music hit her in the face with an almost physical force. She turned around quickly to walk out, but the door slammed in her face. Her eyes burned from the bright sun outside and heavy metal music pounded in her ears. She looked up to see a movie projected on the wall above her head. A naked woman writhed on a blood-soaked bed, her face twisted in contortions of either agony or ecstasy. The next shot was a man standing over her, wearing nothing except for a red gnome’s hat on his head. He held his penis in both hands, a gigantic, several-feet-long monstrosity with a spinning weed whacker at the end of his shaft. He thrust his hips at the camera and blood splashed all over his body. Tabitha nearly jumped out of her skin when she felt a hand on her arm.

“Get out of the way!”

She remained rooted to her spot but turned to see Mark standing next to her. He stood almost a foot taller than her, and part of the film was projected on his head.

“There is a huge penis on your forehead!” she shouted at him.

The music stopped in the middle of her scream, and the entire bar stared at her for a second before bursting into a giant cheer. Tabitha was grateful that it was dark; even though her eyes were adjusting to the interior, she didn’t think anyone could see the blush creeping across her face. The music started up again, another pounding metal scream.

He ducked and pulled her down with him.

“You’re standing in front of the movie! Get out of the way so people can watch.”

Still crouched down, she turned to see that the brewery was packed with hundreds of people holding beers, some bouncing their heads to the metal music, most watching the movie on the wall.

She stood and followed Mark to the side wall and yanked his arm so that his ear was close to her mouth. “I am getting out of here!”

He either couldn’t hear her, or he pretended he couldn’t. He took her hand and pulled her behind him. They moved along the wall opposite a bar, squeezing behind the mass of sweaty bodies. She tried to stay focused so she wouldn’t lose him, but she looked around the room as they walked. The walls were painted black, and most of the lights were dark except for a few red bulbs reflecting off a spinning disco ball hanging from the ceiling. Skeletons lay draped over the bar in various acts of copulation; some hung from the ceiling, suspended in sexually acrobatic poses. Each of the taps had a slightly-too-realistic skull as a pull, and the patrons and waiters were covered in more ink than actual skin. The music level was deafening, but Tabitha could see people laughing and talking, and a tantalizing scent of barbecue hung in the air.

Toward the back of the bar, Mark pulled her into a smaller, better-lit room. The crowd thinned, and Tabitha glimpsed Liz at a table in the back corner and rushed into her arms.

“I’m going home!” Tabitha said, but Liz only laughed and patted her as if she were comforting a frightened child.

“Don’t freak out,” she said. “It’s fun.”

Tabitha pulled a barstool next to her and sat down, clutching her purse to her chest as if she were protecting her chastity.

“Here.” Liz pushed a paper plate in front of Tabitha. “Try this. Best barbecue in the valley.”

“Um, yeah. That’s a no from me. I think I’m going to be sick.”

“Don’t puke on the floor!” Liz and Mark yelled in unison, then they laughed together and high-fived.

“Is everyone here on drugs?”

“Nah.” Mark was nodding to the music, and his face was flushed. “High on this beer. And this food. She wasn’t lying—this is the best in California.”

“No thanks. I just ate with my parents.”

“Let me guess. There was goat cheese. And…” He put his hand on his forehead and closed his eyes. “Baby arugula. No!” He opened his eyes. “You ate oysters. But you hated them, so you spat them in your napkin when your mother wasn’t looking.”

“Oh, you think you’re so goddamned smart.”

“And, wait, don’t tell me. Your mother ordered a Sancerre. Chilled, but not cold. You thought the wine tasted like, um, don’t tell me. You thought it tasted like a didgeridoo and Pop-Tarts, and you wanted to tell her, but the world-famous Jillie Jones Lawson sent it back because it wasn’t quite chilled enough.”

“Shows what you know. I didn’t eat any of the oysters because I’m a grownup, and I’m not afraid to tell my mom that I don’t like them.” She paused for a moment. “But she did send back the Sancerre.”

Mark cackled with glee, and Liz nudged the plate again. “This is short rib ragú over house-made corn chips. Trust me.”

Tabitha took a deep breath and tried to relax. Once she looked around, the crowd was not quite as intimidating as she’d initially thought. There were a lot of tattoos, yes, and most of them seemed to involve dripping zombie faces. But the crowd was not all metal-head dudes. There were actually women in the room, even some tables with only women. Everyone seemed to be having a great time.

“This is why you brought me here?” she asked. “For barbecue?” But Mark had his arms up in the air in devil horns, banging his head to the music.

Liz laughed. “He always likes to bring his wine buddies here to broaden their horizons. And to scare them a little bit. I told him you couldn’t be scared.”

“You were wrong.”

“Aw, come on! Anyone with bright pink hair and leather pants can’t be afraid of much.”

A waitress appeared next to Tabitha. She held a long axe with four holes drilled in the blade that each held a small sampler of beer.

“He ordered for you.” Liz smiled affectionately at Mark, who was now in the middle of the room doing full air guitar to the music, back arched, invisible guitar pointing to the heavens.

“I’ve never seen this side of him,” Tabitha said.

Liz laughed. “His job’s intense. He needs a break. Lucky for me.”

“Do you actually like this place?”

“What’s not to like? Beer’s great, food’s awesome. Plus, I get a free movie. Did you see it out there?”

“What, you mean Pride and Prejudice on the wall out there? Yeah, I saw it.” She stole a glance over Liz’s shoulder to see the carnage projected on the wall.

“See, I knew you’d get sarcastic.” Mark was at her elbow again, his face flushed from the dancing. “Haven’t you ever even seen Blood Whacker?”

“Blood Whacker? Please tell me that’s a joke.”

“No.” He sat at the table and threw his arm around Liz. “We love that movie. Absolute classic. Starting with the title. You know, it’s a slasher flick, but also, you know. Whacking?” He made a jerking motion with his fist.

“I know what whacking is. Thanks for the visual, though.”

“But that’s just for starters. The main character is a gardener, you see. But when he was a teenager, his mother electrocuted him by dropping the lawn mower in the bathtub when she caught him playing with his junk, and his whacker turns into a weed whacker. Get it? A classic origin story, but with the addition of an Oedipus complex. And you know how women’s privates are called bushes?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard that. Please don’t tell me any more.”

“If you watched this movie critically, you’d see that it’s a masterpiece of satire about our toxic culture of modern masculinity. At the end of the movie, the hero dies after he falls into a gigantic underground rabbit warren, and all these tiny white bunnies eat his flesh. There is blood everywhere. I mean, the layers of symbolism run so deep.”

Tabitha stared at him for a long time. “Did you fall and hit your head on something?”

Liz grinned and leaned into Mark. “He loves to talk about this movie. That’s why I love him. Plus he has a gigantic—”

“Oh my God!” Tabitha yelled. “Please, both of you stop talking!”

“I was going to say a gigantic brain. Get your head out of the gutter.” Liz drained her beer and waved at the waitress.

Mark shook his head solemnly at Tabitha. “She was going to say the other thing. She just didn’t want to make you jealous.”

“This is the most bizarre day I’ve ever had in my life, and that includes the day I accidentally answered the door naked when I found out my husband was cheating on me,” Tabitha said.

Now it was their turn to stare at her.

“By the looks on your faces, I’m guessing I never told you the details.”

Mark whistled. “No, I just knew you left. I always figured he cheated. And if I can be honest with you, I wasn’t even sorry. He’s a jerk, and you were the only one who didn’t see it.”

Liz grinned. “See? We knew you needed to visit this place, if only to have a weirder day than that.”

Tabitha looked at the now-empty beer samplers in front of her. “I have to admit, I’ve never tasted anything like this.”

Mark pushed his glass in front of her. “Try this one. It’s a cherry saison.”

She picked up the glass and held it toward the light of the movie, still soaking the far wall in bodily fluids. She wrinkled her nose. “I’m not a college freshman. My days of drinking alcohol that looks like Kool-Aid are over.”

“Tabitha, do you have to be a smartass about everything? Just try the beer!”

Grinning, she took a tentative sip. “Wow. That’s, um. It’s good. I’m surprised. I never thought a bright red beer would be good.” She sipped again.

“That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. These guys are doing some amazing things here.”

“It’s like they got all the flavor of sour cherry, but none of the sugar. You can taste the fruit, but not the sweet. The finish is almost malty.”

Liz groaned. “Oh, here we go again. Nerd Alert!”

He nodded. “They use wine barrels for aging, but they are careful about it, so you’re not tasting an oak and smoke bomb. I think the light effervescence is what makes it work. It’s almost a grown-up soda.”

Tabitha pulled a small notebook out of her purse. She started jotting down notes about the beers she’d been sipping, mumbling to herself as she did it. “That peach IPA is sharp and fizzy and kind of sour. It makes me think of an outdoor country music festival on an acid trip. And I think that Massacre IPA is just barely hoppy enough. It makes me want to punch a Nazi in the face and then listen to Coolio.”

After several minutes, she looked up to see her friends watching her.

“What was that?” Liz asked.

But Mark grinned. “I told you, Tabitha’s mind doesn’t work like other people’s. That’s why she’s the Rock and Roll Somm.”

“I’m sorry. This just got me thinking about some flavor profiles.” Tabitha sighed and put the notebook away. “And, also, I seem to have forgotten how to interact with humans.”

She sat back and looked around the room and wondered if the beer world had the same politics of the wine world. It didn’t seem possible that a place decorated with so many skeletons could have the drama of the uptight snobs in wineries. Everyone here just looked like they were having a great time. The beer makers clearly took their job seriously, but everyone else just wanted to drink and enjoy themselves.

She picked up a fork and tasted Liz’s barbecue. “You’re right, this is delicious,” she said. “Oysters are disgusting. I’m starving for some real food.”

It was dark when they stepped out of the brewery. Tabitha stretched her hands high over her head and breathed deeply. A wonderful warmth flooded through her body as she gulped the fresh air.

“What a night! Did you ever see such a perfect night?”

“I take it you had fun?” The deep voice came from behind her.

She turned to see the security guard standing at the same spot at the door, regarding her with the same confused interest he had worn when he let her in.

“Heyyyyyy! My buddy! How are you? I totally had so much fun! Great beer! Did you ever try this beer? And everyone has such awesome tattoos! Do you have any?”

The dank and slightly smelly alley from earlier had disappeared; now everything seemed infused with the glow of moonlight. The whole world sparkled, and a feeling of well-being swelled inside her heart, wanting to burst out of her chest.

“The music in there was great, wasn’t it? I never knew how awesome Rush is. You know what would be even more awesome? If this place were haunted!” She gasped dramatically; the thought was too wonderful to comprehend. “I bet it is haunted! It is, isn’t it?”

The guard slowly cracked a smile. “It is. Some people say they’ve seen a ghost back behind the casks. I could take you back and show you if you want.”

“Oooh, that would be so much fun!” She took a stumbling step toward him, but two hands grabbed her arms.

“I don’t think we’ll be doing any ghost hunting today, but thanks,” Mark said, as he and Liz pulled Tabitha into the alley. “I thought you said you weren’t a college kid anymore.”

“You don’t need to worry about her,” the security guard called as they walked away. “She knows self-defense.”

Tabitha laughed. “It’s true, I do! Anyway, he was cute. And I’m not married anymore, so who cares if I want to mess around with him behind the casks?”

“Honey, I think you might care tomorrow,” Liz said softly.

A burst of sincere and intense love for her friends overcame Tabitha. “You guys are too good to me. Both of you. I love you guys; you know that? You’re such great friends. Like, best friends. I love you so much. I mean love! I fucking love you guys!” She linked her arms through both of theirs, humming “We’re Off to See the Wizard” as they made their way down the alley. “It’s too bad neither one of you can walk in a straight line, though.”

Mark and Liz glanced at each other and grinned.

“Speaking of your ex-husband, you ready to help me yet?”

Tabitha stopped walking and leveled a gaze at him. “We weren’t speaking of him. Is that why you invited me here? To get me drunk and try to get me to talk? Isn’t that some kind of illegal coercion for reporters or something?”

“I invited you out for a beer, and then asked a simple question. But now that you mention it, I shouldn’t have to get you drunk for you to do the right thing.”

“I have nothing to tell you other than what I already told you. I mean, didn’t tell you. And I’m still not going to tell you.” She dropped both of their arms and stumbled forward toward her car.

“Where are you going?” he shouted after her.

“Home.”

“Like hell you are.” In two strides, he caught up to her and turned her around by the shoulders, propelling her to his car. “Get in. We’ll drive you home. You can Uber here tomorrow to pick up your car.”

Sighing dramatically, Tabitha settled into the back seat, leaned back, and closed her eyes. She would never have driven in this state, but it felt good to act petulant at the moment. Her burst of drunken energy and infusion of love for the world was gone. She was suddenly tired of everything. Tired of working so hard, tired of dodging Royal around the winery, tired of navigating their divorce while he lived it up in luxury. Tabitha wondered if his new girlfriend knew about the trove of bush pictures that Royal the Weed-Whacking Slime Minister kept on his phone. This thought made her laugh, but she was too tired to open her eyes and explain the joke to Mark and Liz. Tabitha wondered if it was her moral duty to tell Royal’s new girlfriend everything she knew, but even the thought of a moral duty exhausted her.

She opened her eyes and regarded her friends in the front seat. Mark steered with his left hand, and his right rested on Liz’s crossed knee. Liz reached over to turn on the radio, then dropped her hand on his, and her thumb tapped along with the music. Tabitha was tired of this, too, these happy couples surrounding her. Gabrielle and Doug finishing each other’s sentences; her parents’ knowing glances that excluded everyone else in the room. She could not remember if she and Royal ever had this ease, this comfort, that other happy couples seemed to have. Had Royal looked at her like there was no one else in the room? Had he ever rested his hand on her knee, without even thinking about it, just out of comfortable habit and a subconscious need to touch her? Did their bodies fit together, seek each other out in crowds like ions attracted to each other?

No.

When she and Royal sat next to each other at dinner parties, they each talked to the person on the opposite side of them, never to each other. They didn’t lean in to share inside jokes; their hands didn’t drift over to find each other. She had never once shared a friend with Royal—never, now that she thought of it, even considered him a friend. He never looked at her with anything like affection. Lust, maybe. Pride, but only when another man flirted with her. Possession, usually. He was her boss, then suddenly her husband. He was always in charge.

And he was never a friend.

Liz pointed at something on the street. Mark nodded and smiled. A silent conversation between them, a history, a shared vocabulary. Such a tiny, unguarded moment that Tabitha felt embarrassed, as if she’d intruded on something profound. Their intimacy caused hot tears to sting Tabitha’s eyes. Do not start crying, you dumbass. Whatever you do, do not be a thirty-five-year-old woman who gets drunk and says she loves everyone in the room and then cries in the back of a car. Please do not be that woman.

She bit her lip hard and tasted blood in her mouth. The coppery tang stung her, made every sense come alive. She balanced on the edge of a decision, her toes over the precipice, almost ready to fall in, hoping that her friends would catch her. But she backed away. She was drunk enough for bad decisions, but not drunk enough for that one.

“I can’t tell you anything, Mark,” she said, her voice low in the quiet car. “I can’t do it.”

His eyes met hers in the mirror, but he did not reply.

“You are right, though. What you want to write about him. It’s all true. It’s even worse than what you suspect. But if you link it back to me, I will deny everything.”

“I am publishing it with or without your input.” He spoke calmly, but he lifted his right hand off Liz’s leg and back to the steering wheel, and his knuckles whitened when he gripped it. “I’ll find it all out eventually; you know I will. If you don’t help me, he’ll keep this up. He’ll keep cheating, and he’ll keep winning things he doesn’t deserve. I can’t even imagine what he’s doing with the money.”

“He’s buying bigger computers to look at bigger pictures of naked women who he is not married to.”

He paused before replying, seemed to consider his words. Perhaps he was internally debating the value of negotiating with a drunk woman in the back seat of his car. “I know you’re angry. You’ll always be angry. But you can help me stop him.”

“And ruin my career in the process.”

“You’ll be a whistleblower.”

“A whistleblower who doesn’t have a job.”

Tabitha kept her gaze on the window for a long time, unwilling to meet his eyes again. They had not invited her out tonight to get her drunk and pry information out of her; that had been an unfair accusation, and Tabitha knew it. Mark wanted her to tell the truth because it was the right thing to do. A person with his moral code could not understand what was stopping her.

She stole a glance at his face again and had to look away quickly, because she didn’t think she could bear the disappointment she saw there.

“You have to understand. Taking down the Royal and destroying the reputation of the winery won’t make me happy again.”

Liz turned to face her.

“What would make you happy again?”

Tabitha stared out the window at lights of the passing buildings, all of the images of the night colliding in her head with that question. People came to California’s Central Coast for the peaceful vistas and the wine, but tonight it was just a chaos of business and commerce. She couldn’t hear the waves crashing, and she couldn’t smell the salt air. Her brain pounded with metal music and slasher movies and skeletons having sex.

Nothing made sense.

There was no answer that she could think of, no job situation or person that offered her peace.

But there was a place.