Page 29 of When the Lights Come On
Nobody can break you when you’re numb, and he’s giving me the perfect chance to prove it to myself. I want to stop asking ‘what if’ as bad as he does, and maybe we’ve got different outcomes in mind, but we’re searching for the same thing: certainty.
I weigh the options. I can go on like I have been, keeping him as nothing more than a memory I keep trying and failing to forget, or I can face him here and now and show myself that the what-ifs are all empty questions.
“Okay.”
He pauses with his drink halfway to his mouth. “Seriously?”
I almost laugh at how dumbstruck he looks, his mouth hanging open and Coke sloshing over the edge of his glass.
“Challenge accepted. I’m playing a show Friday night. We can start there.”
* * *
“I wish we could go!”DeeDee pouts as she helps Zach and I carry my gear down the stairway in our apartment building, a series of deafening creaks following us all the way to the ground floor.
“You’ve seen me play at least ten times at Taverne Toulouse.”
“Ben ouais, but I’m always working when you play there, and I love Shi Bar. I can’t believe we have to miss seeing you DJ there.”
“Agreed.” Zach holds the door for the two of us as we head out onto the sidewalk. “You’re going to kill it.”
The first hint of fall is in the air tonight. A slight breeze shakes the leaves of the few trees on our street, and for the first time since summer, I don’t look crazy for wearing a giant hoodie.
“What time does your flight leave again?” I ask after I’ve set the case I’m holding down and pulled out my phone to check on my Uber.
“Very soon,” Zach answers. “We should probably already be at the airport.”
“It does not leavevery soon,” DeeDee protests. “We do not need to be at the airport three hours early.”
I look up and see DeeDee give his ass a smack. He catches her arm before she can run away and pulls her in close. She shrieks as he starts biting her ear.
And to think I was actually starting to believe I’d miss having them in the apartment all the time. They’ll be away visiting Zach’s family for a week, which means I won’t start my days with the sight of Zach in his boxers and DeeDee in his t-shirt while they try to stick pancake batter on each other’s noses, or whatever other happy couple activity they’ve chosen for the morning.
I look down at my phone again and open up a text from Ingrid while the two of them keep going with the PDA.
Good luck at Shi Bar tonight! Wish I was there. You will kill it.
It’s followed by three knife emojis. She knows the knife emoji is my favourite.
I type out a thanks and wish her good luck at her show too. Her band left for Toronto yesterday to play a few gigs and meet with some industry people. When I invited Youssef to my show, I was thinking we’d be surrounded by human buffers after I finished playing. I forgot the three people in this city that I talk to on a regular basis are all out of commission tonight.
A flash of headlights catches my attention, and I squint to catch the license plate of the car coming toward us.
“That’s my ride.”
Zach and DeeDee detach themselves from each other and help me load the car after it pulls up. I suffer through a goodbye hug from DeeDee and laugh to myself as the two of them pretend to chase the car when we pull away.
The Uber takes me all the way down to the Old Port, the bars and patios we pass turning more and more upscale the closer we get to the water. The Old Port is the prime tourist hotspot of Montreal, which means it’s the place locals only go when they’ve got family visiting or they’re looking for a fancy night out.
We pull up outside Shi Bar. There’s already a line forming along the sidewalk lit with neon and the glow from the ends of people’s cigarettes. I direct the driver to the door where I’m supposed to go in, and he insists on unloading the trunk for me. I tell him I’m fine after all the cases are piled on the old cobblestone street. He still puts on that fake casual air guys do before they hit you with some stupid pick-up line, but I deflect it with my best death glare.
He says goodnight and drives away a second later.
I adjust my hoodie and roll the bulky sleeves up before I start hauling gear in through the back door. The place is already packed, the crowd around the bar three rows deep as people sway to the lo-fi beats the guy currently at the DJ booth is spinning. It’s a chill lounge atmosphere at the moment, fitting right in with the place’s red velvet furniture and Japanese lamp decor, but it will be a full-out rager in just a few hours.
I’ll make sure of it.
My set is supposed to start back-to-back with the guy on now, so after being greeted by the bar’s manager, I get to work. It’s common practice to have to crawl around somebody during their set while you get ready for yours, so me and the DJ just nod once and then try to stay out of each other’s way while I crouch like a goblin beside him and start plugging cords in.
