A loud banging on the door startled Amari awake and he jolted up. Music still played in his head, but the pounding was so heavy it shook the room. Worried there was an emergency, he leapt from the bed and rushed to the door, stubbing his toe hard on the edge of the dresser.

“Fuck!”

He quickly turned the knob, only to find Ziggy leaning up against the wall outside. A hand waved in front of his face, then reached over to pluck out the earbuds.

“Is that any way to greet someone?” he asked sweetly, grabbing Amari’s hand and dropping the buds into his open palm.

“Uh, what the fuck...” Amari groaned and leaned down to rub at his toe. “I thought it was an emergency, the way you’re banging...”

Ziggy chuckled and poked him in the stomach. “There is an emergency! Dinner is almost ready, and you haven’t eaten all day.” He leaned back up against the wall. “And you were sleeping with your music on again, tsé? How else was I supposed to wake you up?”

“I’m not hungry.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, his stomach growled in protest, and his face flushed in embarrassment.

“Ah, c'est cute... It’s just the two of us. Mik is gone.” Without waiting for a response, the man headed to the kitchen.

Amari smirked, reaching into his pocket to turn off the music streaming from his hand. Even though Ziggy was in the shower, he still knew what had happened and kicked his guest out. The man spent time with a wide variety of sketchy people, but the one rule in his house was that the roommate was off limits. Amari tried to stay out of it and handle those situations himself, but his friend usually found out anyway.

Each time, a little pang of guilt hit him, still sorry for breaking up relationships, even if those relationships were short-term with strangers. He wasn’t in any position to judge someone else’s lifestyle, he just wasn’t interested in participating.

“Oh, don’t look so upset,” said Ziggy encouragingly as Amari met him in the kitchen. He was tilted over the counter, waiting for something in the oven to finish baking. “Le sexe était de la merde. And who wants shitty sex, hein? It’s his loss.” He knocked on a cabinet door. “Set the table.”

Amari nodded and reached up, feeling around for plates, then into a drawer for silverware. He made a setting for each of them and sat down at the table, slouched in his chair as he waited for the food. His stomach rumbled louder now, with the aroma of lasagna filling his nose. Ziggy just laughed as the timer dinged, pulling the pan out and setting it between their plates.

“Attendez. Wait. It is hot.”

“I’m not a child,” Amari grumbled with a stubborn frown, even though he was starving and finding it difficult not to dig in.

“Yes, yes. Oui, oui...”

Ziggy took the plate and moved a large helping onto it, setting it down in front of him. Without hesitation, Amari used his fork to grab a mouthful, following it with a few curse words and a large gulp of water.

“Franchement... Who is not a child?”

“Honestly... Screw you.” Blowing forcefully on the square of lasagna, trying to quickly cool it off, Amari pointed a thumb over his shoulder toward the living room window, light still streaming in from around the curtain. “Why’re we eating so early, anyway?”

Ziggy sat at the table, filling his own plate and letting it rest.

“You’ve been sulking in your room all day. I thought you would be ravenous.” Amari’s expression showed he clearly didn’t believe that, so Ziggy sighed. “Je sais pas, là. I just had the urge to bake lasagna, and this is how long it took.”

“Okay.”

Amari was sure it wasn’t just an urge and the man really did know why, but he wasn’t going to pry. His friend was upset about the situation with Mik and he didn’t want to get into it. Poking the food on his plate and feeling less steam rise up, he speared a large piece and began eating.

“C’est bon?” Ziggy only received a muffled grunt as Amari stuffed his empty stomach. “That good, hein?” Still not getting any response, he tapped his fork on the table. “I have a meeting with a local band tonight, so I need you to come help me.” Amari didn’t look up, shoveling food into his mouth. “I know this is your day off, but if your plan was to sleep through it, you may as well come do something productive, tsé?”

Receiving another grunt, his friend chuckled, finally digging into the food on his own plate. “You can do the dishes, too. I’ll take the leftovers to the club, and you can meet me when you’re done.”

Amari groaned, but didn’t say no. When they were finished, he carried his plate to the sink, slowly scrubbing and rinsing the mess from this morning. It was interesting that Ziggy would agree to meet with musicians on his evening off. Usually, this time was sacred to him. Although he would gladly miss work to have fun, he never missed his free time for work.

After changing into something clean, Amari grabbed his keys and headed out the door. The entrance to The Basement was propped open when he arrived, and he could hear drums playing inside. The smell of lasagna and stale beer drifted by and he scrunched his nose. One downside to having a good sense of smell. Walking out of the ticket area, he could barely make out two figures at the bar, one behind the counter, and the other sitting on a stool.

“Ah, Scotty.” Ziggy greeted him, waving an arm high in the air. Amari stopped and sighed at the gesture. There wasn’t anyone else in the place, so he didn’t need to be so wild about it. “Aweille! Hurry up! Come and meet an old friend of mine.”

He approached just to the edge of the bar, distancing himself as he did with all new people. He wasn’t interested in making friends, and acting rude was easier than trying to explain himself to someone he would probably never speak to again.

“This is Yangyi Lee.”

Amari heard the stool squeak as the stranger spun around to face him. With the low lighting, he couldn’t tell if he was extending his hand.

“He and his band used to play all over the boroughs, but they had to go on hiatus a few years ago. Must be, quoi, four or five years now? My Scotty wasn’t here yet.” There was no verbal response from the musician and Ziggy continued sweetly. “Antèka, they want to make this their comeback gig. I’m so honored.”

“This was always a great place to play.” The man’s voice was deep, and he had an almost unnoticeable accent. “You really helped us out when we first started. Plus, who else feeds their musicians home-cooked meals?”

He laughed, low and gentle, Amari flinched at the sound, feeling the slightest desire to see the face that matched the voice.

Ziggy replied with a playful chuckle. “Mets-en! It’s true, we treat you so well here.” He shifted closer to Amari, leaning over the bar. “This is mon petit frère, Scotty. My pride and joy. He started working here after you left, about three years ago. He’ll be helping with setup and rehearsal.”

Amari groaned, rolling his eyes. “Again with the little brother shit.” He bowed his head toward the stranger, then immediately turned to face the stage. “So, I’ll go start your sound check then? Anything specific you need from me?”

He continued to look away and heard another gentle laugh.

“Well, diligence is good, I guess?” The stranger cleared his throat to dispel the awkwardness. “Zig says you can sing. Our vocalist isn’t here, so if you could fill in, that would be helpful. Can you play the guitar?”

Amari nodded, still not looking back. “Nothing fancy, but I’m okay.”

Instructions given, he started to head toward the stage, but a hand grabbed his wrist. The man's deep voice drifted up from behind, kind and soft, like his laugh.

“Everyone calls me Yangyang. It’s nice to meet you.”