Page 18 of Charm City Rocks
The lights are dim at Hot Twist. Gustavo has hung up hisBackin 15 minssign. “Come get a beer with me, then,” he says. “I wanna be at least a little buzzed for the nighttime rush.”
Billy looks at his notes sprawled across the lid of the Steinway.
“I think that cover band is playing at the Horse,” says Gustavo.
“Um.”
“Please?” says Gustavo. “It’s your day off, right? Saturday night. Your pretty piano can wait ’til tomorrow.”
Chapter11
The beer that Margot is drinking isn’t good. It’s called National Bohemian, but the bartender called it “Natty Boh,” and she told Margot it’s the official beer of Baltimore. The logo is weird: a cartoon man with one eye and a big mustache.
When she sat down alone at the bar over an hour ago, the bartender gave her that look that people give her when they know who she is but aren’t sure they should say anything. The closest she’s come since to acknowledging Margot’s identity was when she asked, “So, what’s someone like you doing in a place like this, hon?” as she dropped off Margot’s second Natty Boh.
Good question. Margot wasn’t sure. Two Natty Bohs later, she still isn’t.
The Horse You Came In On is exactly as she’d imagined it’d be: stuffy, ordinary, a little sticky. She takes a sip of her beer and spies a sticker on the mirror above the bar: I GotCrabsInBaltimore. The nearby TVs are playing several different baseball games. The Baltimore team, the Orioles, are playing in Chicago, and they’re losing badly.
The fact that Natty Boh is kind of shitty doesn’t mean Margot doesn’t like it. All beer is kind of shitty, after all, like somethingyou try on a dare—sushi or hot yoga. The reason people drink it in the first place, she’s convinced, is because of the associations they make when they taste it, and Margot thinks of going to rock shows with Nikki in tiny clubs before they were famous. She thinks of the early days of Burnt Flowers, huddling in back rooms next to hot water pipes with her bandmates while they waited to go onstage.
She left her hotel fighting back tears, but now she’s edging toward anger. This is often Margot’s emotional journey—an initial shock of sadness followed by a quick trip to rage—and she remembers how it felt when her drumstick cracked in her right hand all those years ago, just before she kicked her drum kit across the stage, live on MTV.
“Another Boh, hon?” asks the bartender. She’s a big lady, late middle age. Her name is Beth, and if Margot isn’t mistaken, she has a full-on perm.
“Yeah, okay,” says Margot.
Beth sets the bottle down. “You aren’t paying for any of these, by the way. My treat, hon. It’s an honor having you.”
“Thanks,” says Margot.
“I wasn’t gonna say anything before, because I was trying to be cool,” says Beth. “But I figure I’ll just go ahead and tell you. I think my first son was conceived to ‘Power Pink.’ ”
People have said a lot of things to Margot over the years, but no one’s said that. “Well, nowI’mhonored,” she says. “Short song, though. Like two minutes, thirty seconds.”
“Yeah, that sounds about right,” says Beth. “Enjoy the Bohs, hon. I’ll keep ’em coming.”
Margot looks up at the TV just as Baltimore’s baseball team loses. Someone on the other end of the bar shouts, “You bums!” A band is setting up on a small stage at the other end of the bar. Two guys and two girls, young looking, and Margot tries to guess who’sin love with whom, because someone’s always in love with someone.
She’s starting to like Natty Boh, as opposed to just tolerating it—the way it burns the back of her throat.
By the time the band finishes setting up, the bar is more crowded. A few people have noticed her, but they’re being chill about it, which Margot appreciates. The band’s drummer—one of the two girls, it turns out—keeps glancing over but pretending not to. When someone young recognizes her, it’s either because they’re a musician or obsessed with Lawson.
Beth slaps the bar and shouts, “Gustavo!” Then she says, “And Billy Perkins, is that you?”
Billy Perkins?The name registers, and by the time Margot turns, she remembers. The guy from the record shop is standing wide-eyed next to a man she also recognizes, the guy at the pretzel stand across the street, Hot Twist. Margot wonders if she’s in an episode ofThe Twilight Zone.
“You,” says Billy. “You’re…here.”
“What the hell?” says Margot. “Did you foll—”
“No,” he says. “I live here.”
“You live in a bar?”
“No, I…”
“He lives above Charm City Rocks,” says Beth. “Billy, do you know Margot Ha…”
