Maybe Read Free Page B

louder around us. I lift my lanyard for him to see my credentials better while they spin in front of my face.
    “I figured. You’re the only one here looking that hard at the crowd. See anything interesting?”
    I want to say that I think the girl with the blond hair is dating the drummer or the bass player because she looks put out and territorial and keeps killing other girls with the laser beams in her eyes. I want to say that I have deduced that the orange-haired girl is probably banging the lead singer and often asks if she can sing backup so she can feel what it’s like to be onstage. And I am wondering why a three piece only has two girlfriends in the audience, though I’m pretty sure I know the answer already.
    However, my boss doesn’t pay me to be an asshole, so instead I say, “I was trying to see if I could pick out any of the band members in the crowd. We’re not allowed to see pictures beforehand.”
    He chuckles and steps closer to hold out his hand. “Jonathan Walters.”
    I shake it, but I’m unsure why he’s introducing himself.
    “Now you’ve met a member of Growl at the Badger.” His smile is huge.
    “Clever.” I smile back, grateful that this encounter hasn’t gotten awkward yet.
    “My wife is by the speaker. She’s our manager. I think you called her this morning, right?”
    I feel Laura kick me under the table because I was wrong, and I elbow her in response. “Hollis. She spoke with my boss, Rynn. I’m not allowed to talk to anybody.”
    “She’ll be excited to know you showed up. We’ve had a few who didn’t.” His gaze goes over my shoulder, and he steps closer to the railing. The woman in the red skinny jeans and leather jacket is looking up at him. He gives her a hand signal, and she glances over at me. She smiles as wide as her husband and gives a friendly wave before tapping her wrist like she’s telling him that he’s short on time.
    “Before you go, who is the girl next to your wife?”
    “Carrie. She’s dating the lead singer.”
    Now it’s my turn to elbow Laura. “And the other two hundred screamers?”
    “Honeybadgers.” Jonathan steps back and grins. “Gotta go. We’ll meet you here after?”
    I shrug like I don’t care, but I do. This means a lot to me, and I’m banking on the hope that they don’t suck. “I’ll be here.”
    Once Jonathan clears the stairs, Grier lets out the most obnoxious laugh ever. “You’ll get the hang of this one day, Em.”
    I respond by flipping him off and then flicking his face with water from my glass. “Their groupies are called Honeybadgers, G. Clever? Yes. Impressive? No.”
    The stage lights begin to dim, and I turn my attention back to where it should be. The audience moves forward in a surge, bodies pressed against bodies, not an inch to move unless the entire crowd participates. Without an introduction, three figures take their places on the stage, cloaked in shadow. Just as the singer lets out his first note, the lights dip and scan the stage, coloring his face yellow and green while they sweep in slow circles.
    The band begins to play a soft melody that joins the singer’s voice and makes the hair on the back of my neck stand straight up. I love it. It’s the best reaction I could have. The body knows when music means something. When it’s pure and worthy.
    The high-pitched screams from beyond the stage are almost louder than the music, but the sound guy turns everything up a little more so the band can be heard.
    I’m glad I can understand the lyrics.

    We’ve been here before
    Haven’t we?
    Settled this same score
    Haven’t we?
    A door slammed shut
    With an open palm
    You were the storm
    Before my calm

    The entire crowd is singing the words right back to them, and I’m impressed by their following, though it is easy to understand why they are so popular. The music is distinctly familiar—a type of rock I’d thought long dead had been resurrected here in a little bar in Austin, Texas. I move from