“Like a great and powerful wizard, huh?” he teased.
“Yeah, and it’s likely just another small person behind the curtain. It’s probably one of them.” I flicked my head towards the glowing tents in the distance, the first of the ultra-rich departing.
He shrugged as we continued along, the stench of freshly cut grass so strong I could taste it. “Probably. But it’s fun not knowing. The art crowd hates it. Ever is beating them at their own game, and it pisses them off.”
Luxury cars dotted Arlington as we exited, chariots awaiting attendees. Ethan and I were probably the only two party-goers that had taken the T.
“That was insane back there.” It was more than that, but I didn’t have the words to describe how awful it was. How disappointing. How heartbreaking. There were human beings starving yet the crowds hurled obscene amounts of money for a decoration. The Ever was beautiful, but nothing was worth $123 million.
Ethan nodded, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard. Probably swallowing down the same disgust that bubbled in my chest.
I was studying to help kids like me. Kids that needed someone. So many could be impacted with that kind of money. Throwing it away hurt me in the deepest, darkest corner of my being.
“Want to grab a quick drink at Bowie’s?” he asked, seeming to read my mind as he squeezed my fingers. “To wash away the nasty taste in your mouth?”
“Bowie’s?” As in the dive bar? The one with the tile floor and wood paneling where I sang karaoke in college? It seemed like the last place he’d hang out. Ethan liked top-shelf liquor and gastropubs - not dives.
His blue eyes met mine, hinting at mischief. “Yeah. Ever been?”
I cocked my head, convinced we were thinking of different places. The closest thing Bowie’s had to top-shelf was boxed wine. “The dive bar?”
“Yeah, do you have a problem with it?”
“No, no…” I trailed. “I’m just surprised you would go to Bowie’s.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he laughed, undoing the knot of his tie entirely with his left hand, popping a few buttons of his shirt open in the process.
“You’re just so…” Well, damn. How was I supposed to tell him he was pretty? That he didn’t look like he’d ever been somewhere so rundown in his life. “Not the dive bar type.”
He shook his head with a smirk, the sharp angles of his face looking almost friendly for a brief moment. “You can meet anyone at a dive bar, Kee. I’ve met celebrities at Bowie’s before.”
“Who?” He had to be pulling my leg. The only people I’d seen were neighborhood drunks and college kids. It was part of Bowie’s charm.
“A few: a punk guitarist, an actor, and some big-time directors over the years.” He rattled them off like items on a grocery list without missing a beat.
“Really?” Hopefully none witnessed when I was five shots deep into an 80s rock ballad marathon.
“Yep. Let me guess? You sang karaoke?” He shot me an all-knowing look, his smirk stretching into a full-blown smile.
I couldn’t help but smile back despite the embarrassment. “I probably made an ass of myself in front of all of them.”
He waved our clasped hands from side to side with a laugh. “You never know.”
God, I hoped not.
“You live close by?” I asked with a sinking feeling. “I thought you were in South Boston? You probably saw my drunken douchebaggery, too!”
He shrugged, still smiling. “I stop by when I’m in the area. It’s a cool place.”
“I haven’t been there in years. Do they still have the little stage in the back?” I’d spent too many nights swaying offbeat atop it, celebrating the end of finals week each semester with wine coolers and show tunes.
“Yep. With the same cheesy tropical backdrop and pink lighting.”
Oh God. I still had a scar on my knee from wiping out into one of their infamous pink light displays.
“College kids skip it now for the hipster scene. I don’t know who taught them that spending $20 on a drink with a chicken wing and fucking croissant stuffed inside was cool.”
I grinned, knowing the over-the-top Bloody Marys he was alluding to all too well. Jorge had ordered me an eggplant parmigiana one once, and I still hadn’t recovered from the ew.
He held open the door as we reached the bar, the two of us strolling in to mount barstools, my feet crying out in relief as we did. The place was packed, though the attendees had changed as Ethan had mentioned, mostly older biker types floating around and clusters of women decked out for girls’ night.
“I’ll have a Scotch on the rocks,” Ethan ordered, turning to me quickly to eye me over before spinning back to the bartender. “And she’ll have an amaretto sour.”
“Good guess.” Normally I’d be ticked that someone ordered for me, but Eth knew my go-to drink.
He shot me an intentionally dramatic wink. “I know my Kee.”
I smiled, satisfied to be his Kee. Our hands were still linked resting on the bar, but I didn’t dare let go. I’d enjoy it while I could. Whatever it was.
“How’d you get tickets for tonight?” I asked as the bartender slid me my drink a moment later. It might’ve been rude to ask, but I had to know. My parents would badger me to the moon and back about it.
He lifted his Scotch to his lips with a smirk as soon as the bartender pushed it forward. “It was easy. I met someone who didn’t want to go. Sounded interesting, so I took the tickets.”
I stabbed at the cherry drowning in the bottom of my drink, determined to fish it out with my straw. “I guess they were tired of the jerkoffs.”
“Too bad I didn’t see them unloading tickets as a warning,” he laughed. “We could’ve came here instead.”
“You mean I could’ve had you serenading me this whole time?” I teased, nudging his shoulder playfully.
“I don’t think you
