Chucklingbrusquely, I nodded. “Yeah, thanks,” I replied, suddenly remembering thecigarette between my teeth as it tumbled to the dirty sidewalk. I stared at it,lying sadly in a puddle of rainwater and filth, and muttered, “Well, fuck.”
“Eh,you shouldn't smoke anyway,” she answered, and I looked up to watch her shrug. Herbare shoulders glistening with a golden tan beneath the venue's lights.
“Yeah,”I answered in a hoarse voice, clamping my lips shut before I went into a spielabout how it wasn't any of her damn business what I chose to do. Instead, Iheaded back toward the door and said, “Well, have a good night.”
“Oh!”she exclaimed, just as my hand started to grip the metal door handle,surprisingly cool in the middle a heatwave. “You can't get back in.”
“What?”I tugged at the door to find it locked. I tugged again. “Why the hell not?”
“Youcan't leave the venue during a show,” she explained, wincing with apology.
“But,I have a ticket.” Then, I produced said ticket from my pocket and showed it toher, as if she needed proof. As if she could actually do something about it.
Shestepped forward and took it from me, then pointed somewhere in the fine print.“Once ticket is scanned, you must remain inside the venue until the show isover. Re-entry will be denied,” she read.
“Getthe hell outta here.” I took the ticket from her and squinted my eyes to readthe tiny font, determined to catch her in a lie, but sure as shit, there itwas. “Well, son of a bitch.”
“Ithought you already knew that, since you were out here.”
Peeringthrough the glass door and into the nearly empty lobby, I mumbled, “I justneeded a smoke.”
“Iguess this isn't your night.”
“Yeah,guess not.”
Witha heavy sigh, I pulled my phone out and called Zach. What was to stop him fromjust opening the door and letting me back in? The one fat, old security guard?We'd just give him the truth and tell him I'm an idiot and didn't realize thatI couldn't step outside for a minute. No big deal.
Exceptthat Zach wasn't answering his phone. “Are you fuckin' kiddin' me?” I growled,staring at the call screen as it went to voice mail. “Thanks for putting yourphone on silent, asshole,” I said, before hanging up and jamming the thing backinto my pocket.
“There'sno point to going back in there, anyway.”
Ihad almost forgotten about the woman, dressed in a pair of denim shorts and awhite tank top. I looked back to her and asked, “Why not?” The question cameout as an accusation, not letting on that I didn't even want to be there in thefirst place.
Sheshrugged and shook her head. “Because she's a fake. I mean, I honestly can'tbelieve I even spent money on her in the first place, but, whatever.”
Myeyes narrowed as I cocked my head. “How do you know?”
Thewoman scoffed and crossed her arms over her chest. I trained my eyes only onher face, desperate to ignore the way her cleavage deepened. “You didn't hearher talking to that guy in there? She was spewing the most generic garbage,that could apply toanybody. And I mean, of course, he ate it all up,because that's exactly how she makes her money.”
Itdidn't matter to me that I knew she was right, or that I’d been thinking theexact same thing. From the moment I knew she was talking about Greyson, mychest puffed with the immediate need to defend, and I said, “Yeah, well, ifshe's helping people to make peace with whatever, then what the hell does itmatter to you?”
“Becausethat,” she pointed at the door, “isn't helping people to make peace,”she mocked, deepening her voice, before continuing, “She's a predator. That's whatshe is. And she preys upon pathetic guys like that, who are so desperate toknow that their loved ones are safe, or still with them, or whatever.”
Loweringmy brows, I growled, “You're talking about my brother-in-law here.”
Fora second, she looked like she might apologize, but her resolve to argue herpoint was greater than her need to be sorry. “Yeah, well. Whatever. It wassonice chatting with you. Hope you find your lighter.”
Withthat, she abruptly turned her back to me, lifted a hand in a flighty littlewave, and walked away.
“Yeah,”I snorted, rolling my eyes as I began the walk home. “Have a nice night.”
***
“Whatthe hell happened to you?” Zach asked, entering the apartment with Greyson onhis tail.
Closingthe door behind them, I said, “Oh, I always love spending eighty bucks on aticket and then leaving in the middle of the show. Didn't you know that?”
“Ha-ha,you're a funny guy,” Z jabbed before turning the corner into the kitchen.
