Page 64 of Mine

And now, more than ever, I remembered poignantly that I was not wearing underwear.

I smoothed my hands down my dress and followed Tara back out into the main part of the venue, skirting around the edge as people flowed in. The bar was already hopping, chatter blending with the warble of music.

We went through a door that had seen better days, up a dimly lit set of stairs to another door. She knocked on it impatiently and it swung open.

“Hi,” she chirped. “Drew, right?”

The boy on the other side had to be in college. He barely looked old enough to drink. “Yes,” he said. “Something wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, but Pepper here is going to take over lighting tonight. She’s a professional.”

We both expected resistance, but instead, Drew breathed out a sigh of relief. “Thank god. I told Dale I don’t know how to run this lighting system. It’s crazy outdated. And I was supposed to be doing sound downstairs.”

He stepped aside and we filed into the small room. It was a massive lighting console facing a window that overlooked the entire club. On one hand, it was completely overkill for the size of this venue, on the other—at least it was a professional piece of equipment.

“Ugh,” Tara groaned. “We’re so fucked.”

“It’ll be fine,” I said, looking around. “I know how to run this. It looks like a lot, but it’s not. Where did you set the green lights?”

Drew pointed to the left side of the board. I moved in closer, squinting at the labels with sharpie scrawled on them. The good news was it looked like each of the color lights were labeled correctly.

It’d been awhile since I’d done this, but I certainly hadn’t forgotten. Some of the first bands Rosethorn ended up taking on were people I’d run sound and lighting for early in my career. That being a decade ago worked in my favor because he was right, this board was outdated.

“What the hell is going on?”

Our heads whipped up as Dale filled the doorframe. He was barely taller than me, but his broad shoulders and the way he carried himself felt threatening. Even though I knew he wasn’t, and I also knew he’d back off the moment someone snapped back at him.

“She’s running our lights,” Tara said, her voice hardening.

I knew too well what that felt like. Having to adjust how you spoke to someone because otherwise they wouldn’t listen. If you were too polite, you’d get walked all over. If you were too blunt, you were a bitch.

Long ago, I decided I’d rather be called a bitch.

“She’s not?—”

“Dale, you lied to us about the size of this venue and I’m certain you overcharged us for playing.”

“He chargedyou?” I scoffed. “Did he charge Salt?”

“Yeah,” she said quickly. “I mean, we should make it back with ticket sales, but?—”

“That’s absurd,” I said, giving Dale a hard look.

“I don’t like you,” he bit out.

I laughed. “Maybe I should text my friend who does venue licensing down at?—”

“No, no,” he said quickly, holding up his hands the same way he did with Salt earlier. He was a fucking coward, just like I’d guessed. “I don’t want any trouble. Just want things to run smoothly.”

“Do you own this place?” I asked bluntly.

“No, I’m the manager?—”

“Who owns it?”

His cheeks turned ruddy. “I’m not telling you.”

I rolled my eyes and faded the green light over the venue down, pushing blue up. “I’ll find out anyway. No need to be so elusive.”

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