Page 5 of After Midnight

Dad let out a surprised yelp when Papa K tugged him onto his lap and went in for a lip-lock.

“Gross!” I grumbled like I always did when they got overly affectionate in front of me. “You guys are so mushy, it’s embarrassing.” I fled the kitchen to the sound of laughter behind me. In truth, though, I loved seeing them so in love. Clearly, even after all these years together, the fire between them still blazed bright.

My set at the club started at seven, which was too early a timeslot to draw a big crowd. Whereas the nine o’clock show was primetime, my audience would mainly be older people who may or may not get my jokes.

I’d been performing at the club just over six months when I got tricked into the early spot by my then boyfriend. He was fifteen years older, a more seasoned comedian, and talked me into taking some of his earlier shifts so I could gain experience performing for different crowds. “Can’t make it big if you only have the skill to entertain young people,” he told me. “This will help your career, believe me.” Being green and naïve, I did believe him. Big mistake.

Since the club owner didn’t have an issue with it, we officially switched timeslots and the man dumped me later that same night. Now, I was stuck doing the early shows three times a week. Hard lesson learned, hopefully.

Still, I was lucky to have any spot at the well-attended club, as I often reminded myself. I rushed to get ready so I could head over there early and watch the other comedians warm up. I ran out the door, remembering at the last minute to tell my dads I was leaving.

I stumbled into the club just as Ashton Pipkin, the star of the early show, took the stage to rehearse his set. It was strange coming into the club during the day with all the lights on and empty seats. Tables and chairs separated the bar from the stage, though all had a good view, and I slumped down into a chair along the perimeter to watch and learn.

Ashton Pipkin was hilarious, even though I had to Google most of his nineteen eighties references that went right over my head. The early crowd seemed to get his jokes, though. I knew I’d be lucky if I could get a third of the laughs he did, but I sure wasn’t gonna let that put me off.

I listened to him for several minutes before he stopped abruptly. “Hey, kid. I didn’t give you permission to listen to my set. What are you doing, trying to steal my material?”

I glanced around the room, not knowing who he was talking to. When I looked back to the stage, Ashton was standing with his hands on his hips, staring directly at me. “Yeah, I’m talking to you. What’s your angle?”

“Sorry, sir,” I said, sitting up straighter in my seat. “I just wanted to listen to your set. I didn’t mean any harm by it.”

He put his hand up. “You shouldn’t be watching another performer rehearse without their permission. By now, you should know that basic etiquette. So, I’m gonna ask you again. Are you trying to steal material from me?”

“No, of course not.” I tried to sound smooth even though his accusation took me by surprise. Inside, I was mortified. “I’m still finding my feet performing for the older crowd and I wanted to get in the mood.” My lame justification sounded pathetic even to my ears.

The older man cocked an eyebrow, not unlike my Papa K did when he suspected I was lying to him.

“In the mood, you say? Hey, barman,” he called out toward the bar. “Please come here a moment.”

The bartender must’ve finished shelving some more bottles first because it took a few moments before I heard him walking toward us. “This kid is telling me he’s sitting in on my rehearsal so he can ‘get in the mood,’” Ashton said, using air quotes. “Do you think that’s a load of garbage, or am I way off my game tonight?”

“Hmm, well, let’s see,” the man said in a sinfully deep voice that, honest to God, sent shivers down my spine.

I looked up and caught him scanning me up and down. I could feel my face growing warm from his intense perusal. When our eyes met, the corners of his mouth turned up into a cheeky grin.

“What’s the funniest thing you’ve ever said?” he asked me.

I sputtered, my mind going blank. He had the most piercing green eyes, accented by his rich dark skin tone, and his attention never wavered from me. I’m not sure if it was his question or having a man this good-looking raking his gaze over my body, but I was officially flustered.

When I didn’t answer, he asked, “Do you find Mr. Pipkin funny?” The man’s cheeky grin was still in place, now accompanied by adorable as hell dimples. I’d always been a sucker for dimples. My mouth felt as dry as the Sahara and I swallowed thickly.

“I, um… I don’t know,” I said stupidly, my entire body flashing hot.

“How do you not know? Haven’t you seen him perform before?” he asked.

“Y-yeah,” I stuttered, unsure where this was going.

“So, if you’ve seen him perform, did you think he was funny?”

I shrugged, feeling embarrassed but trying to play it cool. “I didn’t really get most of his jokes,” I admitted. When I chanced a glance toward the stage, Ashton’s scowl signaled that he’d grown significantly more agitated. Dammit, I was clearly saying all the wrong things and making a fool of myself in front of him and a seriously hot barman.

“Why didn’t you get his jokes?” the guy asked, sounding curious. I took a moment to gather my thoughts and regain control of myself.

“I think I’m too young to understand the old pop culture references,” I replied honestly, feeling a little more confident now. If they wanted my honest opinion, I’d give it.

The man looked up at Ashton and shrugged. “I think you’re safe. He doesn’t seem to be old enough to getyourhumor.” His grin was now a full-on smile and I adored it.

Ashton was grinning now too. “And I suppose you do?”

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