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grinned. “Whenever they get
here.”
    Lauren only raised an eyebrow and the
waitress explained. “MishMASHis a unique group of guys. You’ll see. I
expect they’ll be coming in soon.”
    She left and John explained. “These are all
older guys who get together and play for the fun of it. They have a standing
gig here to play every Friday night. The setup you see there?” He gestured to
the mikes and speakers, the drum set covered with a drop cloth and a low piano
that had seen better years. “That all belongs to the owner here. He provides it
for bands who don’t have the money—or roadies—to bring their own stuff.”
    “And MishMASH doesn’t have a lot of their
own stuff.”
    “Right.”
    At her doubtful look, John just gave her a
reassuring smile. “Don’t worry, you’re going to love them.”
    They dove into the chicken wings, the honey
sauce of the mild wings dripping from her fingers and the tangier hot sauce
making John grab for the celery and bleu cheese. Their banter, light and
frivolous, felt just fine to Lauren and she relaxed into the ease of the
evening as she downed her second beer.
     
    John listened to Lauren tell him about a
band she’d heard play overseas and noted how her guard seemed to be down
tonight. She spoke of being away from home as if it were the most natural thing
in the world. From his own experiences, he understood how two extremes could
live in the same psyche. There were times he “forgot” about his years in the
desert. There were times he actually thought he enjoyed it. And then there were
times when the nightmares came.
    Tonight Lauren remembered only the good
things. He liked watching the way her eyes sparkled as she told the story of
the band’s mishaps. He wondered if she’d been a groupie, she seemed to know so
much about them.
    But then her eyes widened and her head
dropped as if she didn’t want to be seen. A hand dropped on his shoulder and he
turned as a loud voice boomed out. “Hey, John, how the hell are you?”
    John looked up, relieved to see Pete, the
lead singer of MishMASH. “Hey, Pete. I’d shake your hand, but…” he gestured
with the chicken wing he held as an excuse. Pete laughed.
    “It’s okay, bud. I’ll excuse you this time.
Who’s your friend?”
    Lauren looked up and John could swear he
saw guilt in her eyes.
    “Lauren! I didn’t know you were back in
town!”
    “Hey, Pete.”
    Her voice was faint and her smile weak.
Obviously they’d met before and Lauren didn’t want to renew the friendship.
Pete didn’t seem to notice.
    “This’ll be great. All the guys are here.
Ted, Shaheim, Sinbad. Hey, don’t tell them you’re here. Let’s spring a surprise
on ’em!”
    “No, that’s—”
    “I gotta go get set up. This’ll be so
cool!”
    “Pete, I…” Lauren called after him, but the
singer had already left.
    John simply raised an eyebrow in inquiry.
Lauren dropped her chicken wing onto her plate and sat back.
    “Damn it. The band I was telling you about?
This is them.” She closed her eyes then opened them in entreaty. “John, I
didn’t know…”
    “And Pete’s the lead singer you…spent some
time with.”
    She nodded. “It was nothing. You can see
that. He didn’t even try to kiss me.”
    John understood perfectly. Liaisons
overseas in the heat of battle had urgency and meaning that faded upon
returning home. He had a few of those in his past as well. Yet, with Lauren, he
wanted something more. She would understand his demons just as much as he
understood hers. When he told her about them.
    Tonight, however, her relationships and
demons came first. “We don’t need to stay.”
    For a moment he thought she would take him
up on his offer to leave. Then she took a deep, steadying breath and put both
hands, palms down, on the table. “I’d like to stay. But I need another beer.”
    John grinned. “That’s the spirit. Give ’em
hell right back at ’em.”
    That made her laugh out loud and John liked
the sound.