Jim played the progression on the piano. He was accompanied by Carrie Fallon on the string synthesizer, but only Jim was in the spotlight. The strings slowly faded away as Jim played softer and softer. Finally, the piano could no longer be heard, and the spotlight faded away. There was applause throughout the room.

Jim stood up in he darkness. “Okay, that’s it!” he yelled. “Scott! Lights!”

The lights in the room came up, and all the roadies, technical specialists, and musicians applauded. They had just completed the final dry run of the show, and it had gone very well. Jim’s smile was ear to ear - wider than his normal ironic smile - and he was very happy with the show.

A.J., who had been off stage for this final number, walked back onstage and took his microphone in hand. “All right everyone,” he said, “gather around! Before the obligatory pre-show party,” there was a bit of cheering that A.J. had to quiet, “there are a few things to say.”

Everyone got into chairs in front of the stage, except A.J. and Jim.

“I realize that everyone wants a shower,” A.J. continued, “and I may top the shower list. However, the first show is tomorrow, and we have to conduct ourselves professionally in front of 17,505 eager concert fans.

“First of all, if you want to get laid by some groupie or enthusiastic fan, that’s fine. Just do it after the show. And don’t let any groupies use sex to get to the band. It’s demoralizing to the fans and makes us look like sleaze.”

“Not that that’s anything new,” Jim added. Several people laughed.

“Smart ass,” A.J. muttered. “If you didn’t have a girlfriend I’d assign you a chaperone.

“Secondly, about illegal drugs. Use them and you’re history. Whether before, during, or after a show or even on your own free time, drugs are bad news, and they’ll fuck you up and we’ll notice. Alcohol is not a problem, considering who you’re all working for, but only after the show.

“Third, be careful what you say to the public. You never know who will be a reporter, and I can guarantee that some of them will be.”

“Also,” Jim added, “spread no rumors without checking with us first. We don’t mind rumors spread about us, but we’d like to know what they are in advance.”

“Finally,” A.J. went on, “and I’m sure Jim will agree with me here, this experience has been a lot of fun to put together, and we’ve enjoyed working with all of you.” Both A.J. and Jim applauded the crew and band, and the applause was returned.

“Now then,” Jim said after the applause had died down. “Now that we have that silliness out of the way let’s get some serious partying going. Does everyone remember how to get there?”

There were many cheering shouts.

“Let’s go!”

It would turn out to be the busiest night the bar had ever seen, and the bartender earned his keep in tips alone as the entire band and road crew partied into the night. Jim was at the bar getting his drink refilled before joining into a darts match with drummer Phil Gondanson. The horn section was over at the jukebox, arguing over what song to play next. John Kilinger and Billy McCall were playing poker with several of Scott David’s lighting crew. The other roadies, led by Scott himself, were singing a drunken chorus of “99 bottles of beer”. A.J. and Carrie were dancing to the music of the jukebox.

“Quite a turnout, eh Mike?” Jim asked the bartender.

“It certainly is,” the bartender replied, handing Jim his Bushmill’s. “You don’t get this many people here when Blue Shift tours.”

“True, but Blue Shift is only four guys. This is ten musicians alone.”

“Ten drunken musicians, twenty or so techs, plus the thirty other customers I have to attend to. Good thing you’re going on the road; I’m going to need a vacation.”

“Then take it. I’ll be gone a while.”

“Fair enough. Got customers.” The bartender walked away.

Jim drank his drink down and returned to the dartboard. He and Phil played a lopsided two rounds before Phil admitted defeat and asked that the game continue without having to worry about such technical things as score. Jim agreed.

A.J. and Carrie were dancing very close. To an outside observer, it would appear erotic as they gyrated and grazed each other’s bodies. Carrie was only five foot six inches tall, but after an explanation and a quick grope on Carrie’s part, she explained that she had no problem with A.J.’s size. A.J. was encouraged and groped back, making plans for later in the evening.

“Fifty one bottles of beer on the wall, fifty one bottles of beer...”

Jim tuned out Scott’s off-key singing and looked to the poker game. It was second round of the hand and the pot appeared to be about 100 dollars. Jim raised an eyebrow and returned to his darts.

Phil made his throw, an eighteen. “Where’s Karen tonight?” he asked.

“Working,” Jim replied. “Seeing as she’s coming along during the first week she thought she should have her caseload caught up.”

Phil threw again, hitting a two. “Ah.” Fourteen. “Nice lady you’ve got, Jim. Your turn.”

Jim threw his first dart, working on his curved throw. Double sixteen. “Yes, well, I’m fond of her.” Double eighteen.

“I know,” Phil replied. “The band is making bets on when you’ll propose to her.”

Jim’s third throw missed the board. Although it was intentional, and simply for comedic effect, the bar went silent and everyone stared at the dart stuck in the wall. Even A.J. looked up from his deep stare into Carrie’s eyes to raise an eyebrow.

“See what you made me do?” Jim said, his face belying the humor of the situation.

Carrie broke the silence by grabbing A.J.’s crotch. “Hey,” she said, “pay attention.”

A.J. turned back to her and replied, “Okay, if you insist.” He picked her up and kissed her. The entire room turned their collective attention to the two of them, and then applauded. A.J. finally set her down.

“How’s that for attention?” he asked.

Jim didn’t hear the response, as he spun to face a person who had tapped him on the shoulder. It was Jeff Soszynski.

“A word with you, if I may,” he said. “No fighting, just talk.”

Jim kept his temper in check and found them a table. The only one empty was next to the poker game, and Jim noticed that the stakes in the pot were now over 300 dollars, and only three players were left in the round. Jim and Jeff sat down.

Jeff started by saying, “I feel I owe you an apology.”

Jim was surprised. He leaned back in his chair and asked the bartender to come over. He ordered a Bushmill’s and Jeff ordered a tequila and lime. Jim looked back at Jeff and said, “Go on.”

“I’ve acted rather badly around you. We’ve managed to fight each other every time we meet and you’re not a cause of the problem. You’re a by-product.”

The bartender arrived with the drinks. Jim drank his down in two swallows while Jeff sipped at his.

“You see,” Jeff continued, “what I want back is the woman I love. You’re the competition so of course I got jealous of you and angry at you.”

“I haven’t exactly been non-provoking either,” Jim responded.

Jeff noticed Jim’s empty glass. “Shit,” he said, “what’s your liver made of, steel?”

Jim chuckled. “Same material as your balls.”

Jeff also chuckled. “The trick is to ignore the pain.”

“Oh.”

“At any rate, you of all people know full well that I’ve got an uphill battle ahead of me. It may make me edgy, and I apologize, because you’re caught in the middle.”

Jim was now confused. “What is it that you want?” he asked.

“I’m going to win her back, Jim. Even if it takes everything I have. I’d like you to step out of the picture.”

Jim raised an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

“Look at you. You’re a very famous and very wealthy man. You’re in a position to have any woman you choose, and you’ve always done so in the past. What does one woman mean to you? Nothing. It never has. You’re in a position to find someone else. Most men would envy that. Most men probably do.

“Me, there’s only one woman for me. I married her and I lost her and now I want her back. I realize that I have to earn her back and I’m prepared to do so, but you make my job harder.”

“And if I refuse?” Jim asked.

“Then we’re back to square one.” Jeff took another sip.

“Look Jim,” he continued, “I have no real desire to be your enemy. It’s a bad situation and I’m trying to make the best of it. I’m offering us both a chance to resume our lives.”

Jim looked at his empty glass. “Jeff,” he said, looking up, “I never thought I’d hear myself say this, about anyone, but my relationship with Karen means a lot to me.”

“Do you love her?”

“I don’t think so, but I don’t know. My point is that Karen’s a part of my life now, and I’ve grown dependent upon it. I don’t think I could let her go if I wanted to, and I don’t want to. I’m sorry Jeff, but I won’t do it.”

Jeff finished his drink and set it down. “I’m sorry too,” he replied. “We’re a lot alike, you and I. We could have been friends.” Jeff pushed himself away from the table, and walked away.

Jim was astounded by the whole encounter. He turned to get the bartender’s attention as he felt he could use another few drinks, so he didn’t see Jeff return. He also didn’t see Jeff lunge at him. The only thing he was aware of was being thrown to the floor.

Jim rolled over and scrambled to his feet, facing Jeff. “Shithead,” he said. Jeff ran at him throwing a punch that Jim blocked. Jim counter-punched, and found himself blocked as well. Jeff crouched down and shoved Jim into the next table, where the poker game was proceeding. Money flew in all directions.

Billy McCall, a large man who had been about to win the hand turned and faced Jeff. Billy shoved him across the room, where he collided with Scott David.

“Thirty eight bottles of beer on the wall, thirty eight bottles of OOF!”

One tech picked up Scott, while another picked up Jeff. Jeff was shoved away, and he stumbled into a table of eight men drinking beer. One of them helped Jeff up.

“You okay, buddy?” he asked.

Jeff nodded. “I could use a hand,” he said.

The man who helped him up looked to his comrades. “All right boys, let’s do it.” They ran at Scott’s singers, and the fighting began. Jeff sought out Jim, and soon they were both fighting again.

A.J. motioned Carrie to the bar, and they both removed themselves from harm’s way. A.J. looked down at the bartender, who was hiding behind the bar.

“Better call the police,” he said.

“I’m a step ahead of you,” the bartender replied.

“Good, Mike, good. You can’t see it from down there, but you’ve got a real barroom blitz on your hands. You bar is getting hurt.”

A.J. was right. Only the bartender, Carrie, and the big man himself were not involved in some form of fighting. Tables and chairs were suffering more than the combatants, and the bar quickly looked like a disaster area. A.J. looked at Carrie.

“Look sweetie,” he said, “I’d love us to duck out of here and find someplace quiet, and we will later, but I’d better go help my brother. Wait here?”

“Sure,” Carrie responded. She kissed A.J., and A.J. quickly forgot about joining the fight. He had a hand down Carrie’s pants when the police arrived.