Love Is Always Write Volume 4

the speed limit. Was that the automotive equivalent of dragging your feet?
    Right as he started to speed up, he saw his exit off to the right and had to hit the brake to change lanes while he swore under his breath. Finding it, at least, was easier than he had thought. The venue, The Vintage Theater, wasn't a big arena by any means but it wasn't some hole in the wall bar, either. It was an in-between; a middle ground for performers that had some notoriety but not enough to book a sold-out stadium. From the outside it was just a large brick building like any other, except for the large neon sign lit up with its name and a line he could see already starting to form on the sidewalk.
    It wasn't long after getting into line that more people got in queue behind him and around the block. He listened with half an ear to the chatter around him without digesting any of it. Two girls giggling behind him, a couple in their thirties in front of him; the man with his arm snuggled tenderly around his girl. Everyone in couples or groups. But not him.
    He closed his eyes as a light fall breeze brushed his face, breathing in slowly and thinking about back home in Duluth where all the leaves were already changing color. Fall was his favorite time of year. Probably because of all the memories of going back to school, his friends and life on campus that he loved. And then there were those two beautiful, crisp autumns he'd spent with Zeb at the North Shore.
    Before the memory lingered long enough to take hold, he noticed a commotion at the front of the line and the people began to shuffle forward slowly. Every now and again one of the young girls behind him would step on the back of his shoe or jostle him when he was only able to move forward a step.
    The sense of déjà vu hit him hard. Everything reminded him of the night he first met Zeb, but not as much as when he handed over his ticket to a man at the door and got his hand stamped for entry. Something about it, the red ink or design, or maybe it was the way the man looked, or the tone when he said, without any enthusiasm at all, "Have fun." Had it been the same that night or was his memory playing tricks on him? Because as he stepped out of the way into the dim hall around the corner and saw the room starting to fill with people meandering around mixed with the excitement, he was transported back.
    ****
    THEN… 5 YEARS EARLIER
    Chad and his friends were celebrating the last day of finals. A pre we-made-it-out-alive bash they decided was a must before graduation. They were young, thoroughly pumped for the future, and ready to conquer the world. Chad had a job already lined up right there in Duluth so wouldn't be going anywhere, but many of his buddies would be heading back to wherever they were from or where their new careers were tugging them. He knew he'd miss them but he wasn't going to think about that tonight. Tonight was for letting off steam.
    Considering how long they had to wait in line to get into this little downtown pub, he figured Mike had been right about everybody raving over it. They made the most of their time in line by joking around, mainly acting goofy and laughing their asses off. Someone had to nudge them forward when it was their turn to pay the cover. Chad stepped forward to the bouncer and admired the muscles clearly defined through his white t-shirt. The guy wasn't all that great looking but Chad put on his best smile and a little extra swagger in his step anyway. Mr. Muscles didn't notice as he checked their I.D. and took their money. He looked bored to death as he stamped their hands and, without any inflection towards sincerity, told them each to 'Have fun.' Straight, Chad decided. Oh well. He wasn't out to hook up tonight anyway.
    The group migrated toward the bar and ordered drinks. Sometime during the second round Chad let his eyes wander. It was seriously dark in this place! Dark as when the lights came on at closing, the sexy man with the husky voice you'd been dancing with all night would turn out to be a gorilla with a uni-brow, or even more appalling in Chad's case, a woman with a raspy voice from smoking too much.
    He wasn't used to dark and grim and probably would have never come here without his friends. Maybe to make himself more at ease, his eyes immediately sought out the little light spilling in from a hallway on the far side of the room. And then, naturally, they flowed to the man standing in that light. From there his gaze didn't roam