Knock, knock!
The second he opens the door, Bron feels underdressed. Luke and Timo are waiting on the deck in snug-fit Diesel jeans and matching linen shirts. Timo’s buttons are open to expose more of the angel tat than usual. Luke has buffed his bald dome to a high-gloss shine.
“Ready to party?” asks Timo.
“Ready and willing,” says Bron. And he means it. Whatever Luke and Timo have in mind is better than another night in his room flipping between channels 9, 11, and 13. Bron pulls the door shut behind him and steps out into the warm night air.
The three of them head off down the street, nodding and waving to people along the way, calling everybody by name. Another novelty for Bron. At his office, he’s always running into people he feels he should know, but doesn’t. Awkward. Especially because everybody recognizes him. Usually, “Hey, there!” is the best he can do. His workers seem generic, interchangeable. They come and go. But here… he doesn’t know how to explain it… everybody stands out in clear focus. Memorable characters.
It’s just a three-minute walk to the bar. Bron has passed this place a dozen times, but it always seemed like a place for hardcore locals only. By noon every day there were already a few regulars at their usual spots. At five, they were still there.
But tonight the vibe is totally different. The front of the place is just about empty. Bron, Timo, and Luke head down a narrow pathway between the bar and the tables. There’s music coming from the back, and with each step, it gets louder and louder. Somebody in this town knows how to set up a sound system.
They push through a doorway covered by what looks like a flowered living room curtain. Beyond it—the room is packed with people and jumping with energy.
And whoever decked out the town in Christmas lights took it up a notch in here.
The place is glowing.
There’s no real bar back here—just a long folding table for the booze and a few industrial-size plastic coolers for beer. But, for this crowd, it’s the undisputed center of the universe. And the mood is contagious.
Timo and Luke greet everybody with big smiles, hugs, and backslaps. They may be new in town, but they own the room. Timo pulls out his iPhone and tosses it to the bartender. The bartender patches it into the audio system and flips a switch. Suddenly, the generic club music is replaced by Timo’s smartly paced playlist—Pitbull, Bruno Mars, Madonna—and the energy level shoots up even higher.
The man can throw down a mix.
After a couple quick beers, Luke and Timo hit the dance floor—and it’s game on.
These guys can move. Really move. The crowd clears some space on the floor as the two of them strut, gyrate, boogie, and bump their way through a thumping Adele track. They’re totally into each other—but they also play to the room. By the last measure, their shirts are plastered to their torsos with sweat.
On the downbeat of a Tito Puente salsa track, Timo thrusts his arm out and points into the crowd. He catches the eye of Maria the bank teller. She puts down her drink and moves onto the floor—blushing, but game. Timo can dance rings around her, but he pares his moves down to her level. She’s embarrassed and thrilled at the same time. All around them, the dance floor fills with gyrating bodies.
Working her way in from the side, in tight jeans and a halter top, Willow the librarian is showing off some moves that would not be appropriate for story time. Hands weaving in the hair, hips pumping, eyes closed, totally lost in the beat. Now Luke is behind her, hands on her waist, moving right along with her. Crazy. Funny. Steamy.
Bron leans awkwardly against the bar table, sipping a Corona and just trying to stay out of the way. For him, this is strictly a spectator sport. At the opposite corner of the room, thirsty guests are dipping into a beer cooler. Out of the corner of his eye, Bron sees the lid close to reveal a headful of wild blond hair.
Sunny.
No surprise that Bron has never been a big party guy. On the night of his high school prom, he was away at the Westinghouse Science Talent Search. At company gatherings, he always ducks out before the real fun starts. So this might officially be a first for him—seeing a girl across a dance floor and feeling like his heart is about to explode.
Sunny doesn’t see him. As she turns, a muscular young man in overalls pulls her onto the dance floor. He swings her, spins her, dips her. And she’s no slouch, either—matching him move for move while holding a cold beer in one hand. Bron feels flushed—and it’s not from the heat.
He loses sight of Sunny and the stud in the crowd. As he turns to toss away his empty beer bottle, he feels a tap on his shoulder. He turns back. It’s Willow—smiling, swaying to the music—and crooking her index finger at him.
No escape.
Out on the floor, Bron’s moves are a little stiff—and that’s being kind. But Luke takes mercy, coaching him in a few moves that have Willow spinning and laughing in delight as the music gets even louder. She twines her arms around Bron’s neck. The sound system blares “Shut Up and Dance.” Willow shakes her hair—along with everything else.
Chapter 18
Many hours later
The dance mix fades out and somebody cranks up the Karaoke machine. By now almost everybody in the place is drained and drenched, guzzling beer to replace lost fluids. But some people are still full of energy. Luke is first up on the platform for an impressive rendition of “Say My Name,” complete with authentic Beyoncé hair tosses—minus the hair.
The bartender gets bold and decides to shoot for stardom. He gets four bars into “I Love Rock ’n’ Roll” before the crowd boos him back to the bar table.
Sunny and Maria are in a corner, heads leaned together over their drinks.
Bron starts to edge his way through the crowd in their direction. Suddenly, he feels a pair of firm hands on his shoulders pushing him toward the stage.
Timo. Strong guy. Resistance is futile.
Now Bron is standing on a beer-soaked square of indoor–outdoor carpeting, holding a sweaty microphone. Luke and Timo are on either side of him, their beery breath mixing with his.
The tune blasting from the speakers sounds familiar, but the lyrics scrolling across the monitor are all in Spanish. The three Anglos do their best, but they’re hopeless.
Fortunately, the room has their back. Half the crowd sings along in Spanish, the other half in English—all at the top of their very drunk voices—beautifully butchering a One Direction classic:
I drive all night
To keep her warm
And time is frozen…
Tyler sees Sunny singing along in a far corner. At least he thinks he does—the Karaoke spotlight is hitting him right between the eyes. And by the time the song ends and he gets a clear view of the room… she’s gone.
Chapter 19
Meanwhile, back at the hangar
The techs are already in their bunks, sleeping off a long day. It’s just me and Daisy in front of the big flat screen—watching the action wind down.
“That was fun,” says Daisy.
Okay. I cock my head, waiting for the other shoe to drop. I know she’s not big on compliments, and this one doesn’t feel a hundred percent. I feel a but coming, and sure enough…
“But you can go deeper,” she says. “I think there’s more to him.”
I admit it. I’m frustrated. I’m tired. It’s late. I just created a scenario that felt more complicated than Gone with the Wind, and we actually pulled it off. What more does she want from me?
“Look,” I say, “I’ve already uprooted this guy from his normal existence—taken him away from everything he’s ever known. Given him new friends, new job. And look at him! Look how he was tonight! He’s a totally different guy. All things considered, I think his new life is going pretty well.” I’m worked up now. A little pissed off. “What the hell do you mean by deeper?”