features. This odd behavior, coupled with his interest in my brother, made me worry maybe he was in fact one of the crazy fans who found ways to get closer than normal, and not, as I’d first thought, an employee of the club. How had he gotten inside before the doors opened?
Before I could ask him, a woman’s sharp voice interrupted. “Will Micah be coming out after the show?”
I looked toward the club’s entrance, where people had begun to stream in. I took a deep breath and prepared to deal with the intensity of music fandom.
“I assume so. He usually does.”
She didn’t move. “It’s just that I brought something for him.” She held up a canister of something I guessed was homemade. I’d advised Micah not to eat whatever they gave him, but he never listened. And so far he’d never landed in the hospital. I knew his fans meant well, but who knew if those cookies had been baked alongside seven long-haired cats?
“I could take it back to him if you like.” I made the offer, knowing full well it wouldn’t do at all.
“No. Thank you. I’ll just wait and give them to him later. If he comes out.” She wandered off toward the stage.
I spotted one of Micah’s regular fans, Susan something-or-other, making a beeline for the merch table. She looked put out that I was there before her. “Eden, if you like, I’m more than happy to man the merch.”
I never understood what she got out of working merch for Micah. He didn’t pay except possibly in a waived cover charge. And she was farther from the stage and possibly distracted from the performances. Perhaps it gave her status. Whatever it was, it made her happy, and I was glad to relinquish the duty to her.
“Thank you, Susan.”
She beamed. “Oh, it’s no problem.” She began to chatter with the other women crowding up to the merch table. I overheard her saying, “Micah told me he’ll be performing a new song tonight.”
Adam caught my eye, and we exchanged a knowing smile. So okay, he wasn’t a fan. He stepped beside me as I walked to the bar to get a seat on a stool. “So you’re not the number one fan, then?” he asked.
I smiled. “Of course I am.”
Before we could discuss our reasons for being there, the room plunged into near-total darkness, and Tobin stepped onto the stage to introduce the opening act, a tall blond whose explosion of wild hair had to weigh more than the rest of her.
She pulled up a stool and started into her first song without further ado. Out of respect, I kept quiet and listened, although her performance was a bit shaky, and the between-song banter didn’t help. It pleased me that Adam didn’t turn to me to say anything snarky about the poor girl to me or talk at all. I had to glare over at the women hanging around the merch table a few times, though. They’d shut up when Micah came on, but they didn’t seem to care that other musicians preferred to play to a rapt audience, too.
In the time between acts, Adam ordered me another beer. At some point he’d dropped his hood back, but with the terrible lighting in the club, I had to squint to see his face. Normally, I wasn’t a big fan of facial hair of any kind, but Adam’s slight scruff caused my wires to cross. On the one hand, I worried he couldn’t afford a razor out there in the cardboard box he lived in. On the other hand, I had a visceral urge to reach up and touch his cheek. And run my finger down the side of his neck.
He caught me staring when he leaned closer to ask me how long Micah had been performing.
I wasn’t sure what he was asking, so I gave him the full answer. “He’s been singing since he was old enough to talk. He started playing acoustic when he was eleven, but picked up electric when he was fifteen. He formed a metal band in high school, and the first time they performed live anywhere beyond the garage was a battle of the bands.”
Adam’s expression changed subtly as I recounted Micah’s life history, and I could tell he was reassessing my level of crazy fantardness. I laughed and said, “I told you I was his number one fan.”
His smile slipped, but he managed to reply politely. “He must be very talented.”