“Oh, c’moooooooonnnn.” Jane rolled her eyes and let out a huge, heaving sigh. “I thought we were going to go out and actually have fun. Forget all about guys. Girls’ night. Is any of this ringing any bells?”
“We are having fun,” I said. “You and me. A night out. No guys.”
Jane glanced around the dim interior of the poorly lit bar. “Uh-huh.”
I sighed. “Well, yeah. I mean there are guys here. But we’re not here to meet any of them. We’re here for cheap moscato and BFF bonding.”
Jane stared at me. “Promise?”
I held out my pinky finger toward her. “Pinky swear.”
She locked her finger with mine, then grinning turned and led the way to a tiny, empty table that happened to be right near the low wooden stage. Perfect.
Halfway through her third glass of wine, Jane laid her hand on my forearm. Well, it was more like she lost her balance while leaning forward and caught herself on my forearm. “I’m just so tired of asshole guys, you know?”
“I know, Janie,” I murmured. But I was also surreptitiously glancing toward the stage. I’d heard that Evan’s hot musician friend, Ben, was playing tonight. “They’re the worst.”
“The literal worst!” she said loud enough to get the side-eye from the girls at the next table over. “What?” she asked, glaring at them before turning back to me. “So rude. I swear.”
The waiter, who clearly had a massive crush on Jane and had been trying to get her attention for the better part of a year, brought us each a fresh glass. Reaching around the back of Jane’s chair, I tugged on his sleeve to get his attention. When he looked at me, I motioned him closer. “There’s a ten in it for you if you start cutting hers with apple juice.”
He glanced at Jane who stared blearily at the still empty stage.
“I don’t want her to get sick,” I whispered. “She’s gotta study this weekend.”
He nodded and smiled, and, as usual, didn’t say a damn thing to Jane.
The sound of a loosely strummed guitar caught my attention. Jane’s, too. A guy walked out on to the darkened stage and played the opening bars of Radiohead’s Creep.
“I love this song!” Jane squealed, entirely too loudly.
The lights slowly came up as he started singing, his voice gorgeous, if a little gravely sounding. I watched his fingers sliding up and down the neck of the guitar as he switched chords or whatever it was he was doing. I knew virtually nothing about musicians except they were inevitably hotter than anyone else. And Evan’s friend, Ben, was definitely that.
“Hey!” More than halfway through the song, Jane’s head swiveled on her neck as she drunkenly turned to look at me. “That’s douchebag Evan’s douchebag guitar friend.”
I shushed her.
“Is that why we’re here? Are we here because you have a lady boner for the guitar boy?”
“I will not ssssshhhhhhh. I will not be sssssssssshhhhhhhhhed.”
I wiped a bit of spit off my face.
“Seriously, Janie. You’re gonna get us kicked out. And no place else serves wine this cheap.”
“Right. Sorry. But…that guy, Sarah, c’mon. That guy is such a douche. I mean, he’s like the doucheiest one of them all.”
I shrugged. “I dunno. He’s pretty hot.”
“Don’t you remember how he acted when you and Evan were dating? He was like King Douchebag.”
I took a swallow of my wine. “I though that was Evan.”
Jane nodded sagely at me. “You’d think so. But he was merely the Crown Prince. But this guy…” She shook her head.
Ben was doing some sort of monologue thing. Talking about Radiohead and how they were such a big influence on his music and going on and on about them. I studied him while Jane stared sullenly at the stage with her arms crossed over her chest.
He was still pretty hot, but as he droned on about his process like this was a VH1 Behind the Music special, I realized that Jane was right. He really was kind of an arrogant. Actually, I’d go so far as to call him douchey. It was amazing what a difference an actively played guitar made.
“…and that’s how I go about finding inspiration for my music. I’ll be playing some original pieces just for you, tonight.”
I fought the urge to roll my eyes as he attached a capo to the guitar’s neck and strummed it a few times.
“Oh for fuck’s sake,” I muttered. “That’s it. We’re out. C’mon, Janie. It’s taco time.”
That’s it for me this week, but check out the other stories and see how Creep inspired the other bloggers by clicking on their names.