Free Love Will by Lori L. Otto Page B

nothing that says I was with a girl at all tonight, because I don’t want anyone to find out.
    I shouldn’t have done that. Regret is already weighing heavily on my conscience. I’d made it seven weeks on this tour without a hook-up. Now I have to start at fucking zero. Plus, this girl thinks she earned the coveted role of my girlfriend by giving me a hummer. If only the world worked that way, Lola. Harsh realities, sweetie.
    I’m such a dick.
    “There he is!” Damon says, standing up and applauding me when I walk into the darkened room. Dim sconces on the walls are the only sources of light except for a cool fixture behind the bar made out of colored glass bottles. He’s surrounded by four women, Tavo and Peron at one table, but there are other tables around him that are obviously part of the party, too. Everyone follows his lead and claps at my entrance.
    I take a bow and laugh, then head over to where everyone’s gathered. “Make room for Will,” Damon says, signaling for one of the ladies to leave. Immediately, a waitress is at the table, asking what I’d like to drink. I look around, giving my standard order.
    “A Coke.” She starts to walk toward the bar across the room, where Jaff has now returned. He’s ordering a drink for– fuck . Lola . “Miss? Waitress?”
    “Her name’s Erica,” Damon says.
    “Erica!” She turns around. “Wait, you know what? Do you like beer?” She nods her head. “Bring me your favorite one.”
    “Do you like light or dark beer?” she asks.
    “Surprise me.” When I turn around, Tavo, Peron and Damon are all staring at me like I’ve grown horns. “What?”
    “Did you forget that you don’t drink?” Peron asks me.
    “First time for everything, right? I just feel like celebrating a little.”
    “You don’t celebrate with beer, man,” Damon says as I take the place to the left of one of the girls sitting next to him. He reaches around her to pat me on the back. Erica sets down a small glass and pours an incredibly dark beer with thick foam into it.
    “Locally brewed. Bourbon County Stout. You look like a man who can drink.” She winks at me before taking Damon’s order for three bottles of champagne.
    “Yeah?” I ask her. Can , or needs to , I wonder.
    Tavo picks up the bottle and inspects it. “Fourteen-percent ABV. Go easy,” he leans across the table to say to me.
    “It’s just a beer.” I shrug my shoulders, and after the foam dissipates, I take a sip. “Damn, that doesn’t taste anything like the beer I used to sneak when I was a kid. It’s, like, chocolate… and caramel. Fuck, I’m drinking alcohol-laced candy,” I say, laughing. “Not bad.” It’s pretty bitter and heavy, but easy for me to drink. Damon tips the rest of the bottle into my glass when I’ve devoured the first pour.
    Erica brings another waitress with her to help divvy up the champagne that was ordered.
    “This is how we celebrate,” my best friend says as he hands me a glass. “To you and Where Your Horizon Meets Mine , which is the best fucking song I’ve ever sung.”
    “It was incredible,” the girl next to me says, putting one of her hands on my arm. The other girls chime in.
    “Next time, Peron and I play, too,” Tavo says. “I feel left out.”
    “Definitely,” I say. “The bridge in the middle–the way Peron and I wrote it for the whole band–the way it builds–it’s phenomenal. Standing ovation-type of phenomenal.”
    Peron nods. “We can practice tomorrow.”
    “No, tomorrow, we ain’t workin’,” Damon says. “Day off means day off. We’ve earned it.”
    “Cheers to that,” I say as I clink my glass to his and down the whole flute of the light, bubbly drink. It’s, like, the polar opposite of the first drink.
    “Try this one,” Erica says as she leaves another beer in front of me.
    “Avery the Beast. Sounds terrifying,” I tell her, grinning.
    Tavo examines this bottle, too. “She’s trying to get you drunk. That shit’s