Chapter 23

“I know where we can park for six dollars,” Jeanine said. They were on the Walt Whitman Bridge crossing the Delaware River into Philadelphia. It would only be a few more minutes before they reached South Street, an offbeat strip of restaurants, bars and clubs. Zach pulled out a five-dollar bill and passed it to Barbara in the front seat.

“What’s the name of the place we’re going?” Barbara asked.

“The ‘Black Diamond’,” Jeanine told her.

“Nervous, Zach?” Barbara asked after turning around. “Is it going to be hard seeing them up there without you?”

“Probably,” Zach said. “I’m pretty jacked right now, though. Nothing’s going to get to me.”

Jeanine handed some bills to a woman who was sealed in a glass booth, and then they parked in a litter-strewn square of asphalt a couple blocks away from South Street. They could see hordes of people on the street as they approached. Despite the cold they were cavorting along the sidewalk from club to club, many with beverages in their hands. Zach hadn’t been on South Street very often. That was partly because he didn’t have the money to spend bar hopping but mostly because he wasn’t old enough to get into any of the clubs. He had no idea where the Black Diamond was but apparently that wasn’t a problem for Jeanine, who led the way without breaking stride.

“Hopefully they’ll let you two in,” she said when they could see the Black Diamond about forty feet ahead.

“Yeah, wouldn’t that be something if we couldn’t get in,” Barbara said. “I hadn’t even thought of that.”

“I don’t hear any music,” Jeanine said when they reached the door. “They might be on break, or maybe they didn’t even start yet. I’ve got an idea.” She told them what to do and then disappeared inside.

Barbara and Zach walked a few doors further down the street, their pace slowed by a large pack of slow moving college-aged kids that blocked the entire sidewalk. They cut through the first alley they came across and then doubled back behind the buildings in the direction they came from. “Do you think this is it?” Barbara asked when they came to a set of doors that seemed to be in the right place.

“It’s got to be one of these,” Zach said. “Let’s just wait, I think.”

Within two minutes a different door opened and Bo Herndon stuck his head out. “Zach?” he called out.

“Yeah, we’re over here,” Zach said.

“Come on, hurry,” Herndon said, waving his hand. Zach and Barbara slipped in and Herndon pulled the door shut behind them.

“Don’t tell anybody it was me that opened the door,” Herndon said. “I don’t want to go to jail.”

“Bo, this is Barbara,” Zach said. “She’s a mean guitar player, look out.”

“Glad to meet you,” Herndon said. “Are you an underage drinker too?”

She smiled. “Yeah. Thanks for letting us in.”

“This guy hasn’t partied in a long time,” Herndon said, pointing at Zach. “Until tonight, if the old Herndon breathalyzer is working right. Are you off the wagon now, Zach?”

Zach looked away without answering.

“Are you guys between sets?” Barbara asked.

“Nah, we haven’t started yet,” Herndon answered.

Just then Fauquier and Dumphries appeared. Fauquier was slinging a six-pack on his little finger. Four cans of Smythe Malt Liquor dangled from the plastic rings. “Zach!” Dumphries yelled. “Buddy, I’m glad you came!”

“Hey Toby,” Zach said, hugging his friend. “Let me have one of those,” he said to Fauquier as he reached over and wrenched one of the beer cans out of the plastic.

“Good man,” Fauquier said with a laugh. “Bottoms up!”

“Whoa,” Dumphries said. “You smell like you’re having a good time. What happened to prohibition?”

“I had a couple of beers,” Zach said. “Big deal, alright?” He popped the top on the warm can he had taken from Fauquier and had a sip.

“There’s room at the table in the front for you two,” Fauquier said. “Just don’t let the bouncers see you. Don’t get noticed. And don’t order any alcohol, whatever you do. They already threw two guys out. And I mean ‘threw’.”

“We can’t stay all night or anything,” Zach said. “I’m wrestling tomorrow.”

“On Sunday?” Fauquier laughed. “Check your watch, my man. It is tomorrow.”

“Whatever,” Zach said. He tipped the can back and took a healthy swig. “Just keep the warm pig swill beer coming, Joe,” he said.

“Zach, you’ve had enough,” Dumphries said. “You just got done saying you have a match tomorrow, remember?”

“Joe, we’re going to let Zach come up and sing one with us, right?” Herndon asked. “We can’t pass this up. He’s in top form tonight.”

“I don’t know,” Fauquier said. “How’s Glimmer going to feel about that?”

“Where is Glimmer’s ass anyway?” Zach said. “I want to have a heart to heart chat with him.”

Fauquier smiled and shrugged. “I don’t know, Bo,” he said. “He might be a little too wired right now. Anyway, we didn’t sign him in so the bouncers might come after him. They’re strict about that here.”

“Come on, Joe,” Zach said. “It’s a good idea. One last time, come on.”

“There are two seats waiting for you guys, front row,” he said again, waving them away.

“Come on,” Barbara said, pulling Zach away. “Quit making a scene or we’ll be out on the street.” They walked out through a door next to the stage and found two empty seats at a long table filled with people they didn’t know. Seconds later the band took the stage.

After the first song ended Zach watched Glimmer as he grinned at somebody in the audience. “You suck!” Zach heard himself yelling. All five heads on stage instantly whirled in his direction. Herndon was laughing but the others looked worried. The pattern repeated itself over the next hour. Anytime Glimmer tried to interact with the audience Zach heckled him. Glimmer ignored it but Fauquier looked like he was getting madder each time it happened. A few songs into the show, after Zach began booing, Dumphries drew his finger across his own neck and then discretely motioned towards the back of the club. Zach turned and saw three huge men huddled together. One was pointing his finger directly at Zach.

After the next song Fauquier leaned into the microphone. “We’ve got a special guest in the audience, people,” he bellowed. “Zach Bowie is going to come up and sing one with us!” He motioned furiously for Zach to get on stage. When Zach looked behind him he realized why. The bouncers were coming down the aisle, probably for him. He hopped out of his seat and climbed onto the stage, half-expecting the bouncers to be right behind him.

Glimmer looked like he didn’t know what to do when he saw Zach coming at him. “Hey, Man,” he said without any change in his expression. “I guess you’ll need this,” he said as he tapped the microphone, causing a loud, jarring pop.

“Thanks, Brother,” Zach said. “I bet Toby has a tambourine you can shake if you want to look busy.”

“Zach!” Fauquier hissed off-mike. “Right now, ‘Can't Stop Lovin' You’, on three. And you owe me one!”

As the song started Zach saw that the bouncers were retreating to the back of the club where they had come from. They looked as unhappy as they had before. Two of them were waving their arms towards the stage and yelling things that Zach couldn’t hear. Zach started to think he might still have some problems when the song was over.

His throat was raw and he was covered with perspiration when Fauquier buried the song with one last distorted chord, outlasting a Dumphries drum fill. He was exhausted after what he was sure had been the most energetic performance he’d ever given. “Do it Zach, do it!” he heard Herndon yelling from behind his synthesizer as the crowd cheered. When Zach rose after taking a bow he saw two bouncers standing on either side of his empty chair, with Barbara looking on from hers.

“Sorry, Zach,” Fauquier said. “Looks like the show’s over for you.”

“No worries,” Zach said. “I had my fun.” He hopped off the front of the stage and walked back to the table. “Good evening, gentlemen,” he said to the bouncers as he plopped into his seat.

“Did you come in through the back door?” one of them asked politely, but firmly.

“Yes,” Zach said, knowing there was no point in lying.

“Can you show us some ID?” the other asked. “We can waive the cover charge but we can’t let you stay if you’re not old enough.”

“Give me a break,” Zach said. “You know I’m not. Cut the crap.”

“Lose the attitude,” the first said. “I’m afraid we have to escort you out.”

“Come on, just let me watch the freaking band,” Zach said. “I’ll keep quiet.”

One of them effortlessly yanked him out of the chair. “Let’s go, right now,” he said.

“Get your hands off me,” Zach said. He tried to pull out of the bouncer’s grip but it was too strong.

“Zach, let’s go,” Barbara said. “You were supposed to leave a long time ago anyway. It’s no big deal.”

“Keep talking, little lady,” one of the bouncers said. “Talk him down. Otherwise he’s going out the door head first.”

“Get your hands off of me!” Zach said again. He knew he couldn’t win but resisted anyway. The bouncer had at least six inches and eighty pounds on him. He tried again to twist away but the grip on his upper arm only got tighter. Then the other bouncer came up from behind and grabbed the other arm.

When Zach continued to struggle they’d had enough. “Let’s go,” one said. “You can walk, or I’ll knock you on your ass and carry you out. Nothing I ain’t done before.”

“Walk, Zach,” Barbara said. “It’s not worth embarrassing yourself over.”

Zach walked. It felt more like being dragged. As soon as they were out of view one of them spun Zach around and shoved him face first at the wall. Zach tried to slow his forward motion with his free hand. He felt a stabbing pain in his wrist when his hand hit the wall. “Can’t you just leave him alone?” he heard Barbara say. “He was walking out, what’s your problem?”

“I was in a good mood, tonight, too,” the bouncer said. “Now I’m back to being a professional prick.” He let go of Zach and backed away. “You know what to do, right?” he asked. He pointed at the door. His partner stood by with his huge arms folded across his huge chest.

“Come on, Zach, it’s time to go,” Barbara said, grabbing his arm. “Aaah!” Zach yelled, grabbing his wrist. “I’m cool, okay? I think you broke my wrist, you frigging gorilla!” he yelled in the bouncer’s direction. Barbara took his healthy arm and pulled him out the door and into the street before any more words were exchanged.

“You’re bleeding,” she said. “From your nose and also on the side there.” She pulled a tissue from her purse and dabbed at the blood.

“My chin feels all tingly where it hit the wall,” Zach said. He tested his aching wrist by bending it. “Ow!” he said quickly. “Man, that hurts!”

“You should sue that guy,” Barbara said. “He didn’t need to go overboard like that. You didn’t even do anything wrong.”

“Yeah, but then my mom would find out I was sneaking around clubs in the city,” he said. “I don’t really blame him anyway. It gets pretty crazy. I’ve seen some guys go nutty. He has to figure I might get like that.”

She stopped dabbing and looked at him. “You’re kidding, right?” she asked.

“He’s just a guy doing his job,” Zach said.

“That’s an interesting way to look at it,” Barbara said. They started walking up the street. There weren’t many people left out anymore. Zach thought he saw more police officers than partiers.

“What do we do now?” Barbara asked after five more minutes had passed. “Your girlfriend’s still in there. How do we get home?”

“She’s not my girlfriend,” Zach said. “Maybe she’ll remember we couldn’t stay late. I’m sure she saw where we went, anyway,” he said.

By the time Jeanine finally came out Barbara and Zach were walking up and down the sidewalk in front of the club trying to keep warm. “Sorry I took so long,” she said, offering no further explanation. Zach checked his watch after they walked back to the car and saw that it was well after two o’clock.

His mind turned back to wrestling an hour later when he was lying wide-awake in bed at home. There were three reasons why he was worried about the next day’s match. First, he would be tired and maybe even hung over after being out so late. Second, he wasn’t even sure how much beer he’d drunk and if he could still make the weight. That worried him to the point that he momentarily considered getting out of bed and going for a run to try to burn off some calories. Third, his wrist was still throbbing from when the bouncer had thrown him up against the wall. If he wasn’t able to wrestle he’d have to come with a fake story about how he got hurt. He decided to sleep on it. Maybe things would look better after the sun came up. If nothing else, he’d be more creative after some sleep.