Page 6 of After Midnight

The man shrugged. “Oh, I know quite a fewoldpeople who make me watcholdTV shows. I would call them classics, but I’m not that rude.”

Ashton snorted a laugh. “Old and classic, is it?” he asked, and I suddenly realized with great relief that the conversation was no longer about me. “You know I can tell Miss Rita you called her old, and she’ll rip you a new one.”

“Miss Rita adores me,” the handsome man said with a laugh, then gave me a playful wink before he strolled back toward the bar. I couldn’t help my eyes following him as he left. It wasn’t my fault they trailed down his backside and came to rest on his very well-filled pair of pants.

“That may be,” Ashton called after him, “but if you call a prideful woman old, you might not be adored much longer.”

He shrugged but kept the huge smile on his face as he resumed his work behind the bar.

Ashton ignored me and went back to practicing his set. It looked like I’d been let off the hook.

I didn’t want to push my luck, though, and headed over to the bar. “So, you know Ashton?” I asked with all the bravado I could muster. Which wasn’t a lot.

“He’s friends with my… well, a friend, I guess you’d say,” he said, his attention focused on stocking soda cans under the bar top.

“Do you really understand all his references?”

The guy shrugged. “I guess. Most of them anyway.”

I took a deep breath.Might as well go for it, I thought. “Willing to tutor me on eighties pop culture?”

He laughed. “That’s a big ask, and I’m no expert. Generation X is complicated.”

“Tell me about it,” I said as I plopped down on a stool. “Both my dads are that generation.”

The guy stopped and finally looked at me. “Your dads are gay?”

“I mean, if they’re not, I have a whole lot of questions,” I joked, making him laugh again. I loved the sound. “But seriously, yeah. I’m one of the lucky few who have two dads.”

The way his handsome face lit up with a smile at my comment caused my heart to skip a beat.

“Me too. I mean, I was.”

“Was? Did your dads break up or something?”

When his sweet smile morphed into a sad one, I regretted prying. “No, they were committed to each other until the end. Both passed on, years ago.”

My heart sank. “Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, feeling like a jerk. Trust the idiot to ruin a good thing before it even began.

He shrugged again and went back to restocking drinks, but I was determined. I needed to seize every opportunity I could to make it in this business and right now, that meant convincing this guy to help me out.

“I wasn’t joking about the tutoring thing. I’m stuck in the early time slot for the foreseeable future, and connecting with that audience has been challenging. I need to learn more about the eighties and nineties if I’m going to survive.” I held my breath waiting to see if he’d even heard me.

“Can’t you talk to your dads about their younger days? Glean some firsthand knowledge off them?” he asked, not even glancing my way.

I snorted, so not cool. “Hardly. My fathers are more classically inclined. I could make jokes aboutPhantom of the Operaall night, but I have a feeling that wouldn’t make this crowd laugh.”

“Even so, if they grew up in the eighties and nineties, they probably know plenty about pop culture back then. My dads were stuck on the likes of Madonna and Boy George. Believe me, few things are as mortifying as having your dads singing along to ‘Like a Virgin’ with the car windows down.”

I snickered but shrugged. He wasn’t going to get it. My dads were far from cool and, apparently, neither was I.

“Okay, well, thanks anyway,” I said, feeling totally defeated. It was time to get ready to rehearse my own set. I was convinced it was going to be a disaster, but at least I’d be prepared for it.

I took the stage once Ashton vacated, and began going through my set without much enthusiasm. A few minutes into it, I noticed I had an audience. Both the hot barman and Ashton were watching me. The two kept looking at one another and shaking their heads. As if I needed further confirmation of how much I would bomb tonight.

I pressed on until I couldn’t stand it any longer and stopped mid-joke. “Seriously, you’re making this more difficult,” I said to them, not even trying to hide my annoyance. “I’m sorry I disturbed your set, Ashton, but you don’t have to sit back there making mine miserable.”

Ashton stood, hands up as he approached the stage. “Sorry, kid, but your material sucks. If you go on stage with that, you’ll be covered in tomatoes before the night is done.”

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