Read Online Zero by Tom Leveen - Free Book Online

While you’re wearing it. Woo hoo!
    Okay, down, girl. Still trying to figure out if this is a date or not, remember?
    “They’re hard to come by,” Mike says. “But if he’s got another one lying around, I’ll grab it for you.”
    Eddie looks confused. “I thought you gave your last one to—
Ow
!” He shuts up and reaches under the table to rub his shin.
    I’m pretty sure I missed something there.
    Hobbit gives Eddie a
look
, then leans over the table toward me. “Mike says you’re an artist, huh?”
    Note to self:
He talked about me!
That means something, right? I shoot a (mild, ineffectual) glare at Mike. “I never said that!”
    Mike smirks back at me. “Didn’t you?”
    “No, I …” I spread my hands out toward the other three. “I do some painting and drawing, is all.”
    “Yeah?” Hob says. “Like what?”
    “Well, um … I don’t know … a lot of different things. Landscapes, lately.”
    The guys seem to exchange glances; Hobbit, in particular, looks intrigued. I try another glare at Mike for dragging me into this topic, but
damn
, those eyes of his. What is going
on
in there? I forgive him instantly.
    I remember my plan to get Mike talking, so beforeanyone else can interrogate me, I say, “So, when are you guys playing here?”
    “Hard to say,” Mike says. “Soon, hopefully.”
    “When one of the big promoters calls us,” Hob fills in. “Four Eyes, maybe Alecia Ruth.”
    “Wait,” I say. “Who what huh?”
    Mike tilts back in his chair while Hob looks at me like I must be a complete tool for not understanding him. He’s not a jerk about it; it’s probably the same look I gave Mike when he asked who Dalí was.
    “Those are promotion companies,” Mike tells me. “They put lineups together and take them to the venues. Like at The Graveyard, that was an Open Casket show. Open Casket’s the promoter.”
    “A lame-ass promoter,” Hob adds. He turns to watch the next band tune up, getting that same narrow look, like he’s searching for flaws. It hits me that the expression on his face is probably the same one I have when I look at some of the photos in
ARTnews
.
    I’m better than that
, his face says.
I think
.
    “We’ll get Four Eyes, man,” Hob says, rubbing his enormous hands together and glaring at the band down below. “One of these days. It’s comin’.”
    “Are they a big deal?” I ask.
    Mike wrinkles his nose. “Sort of. They do a lot of shows here.”
    Brook says to me, “Yeah, Four Eyes is in here every week. Big-ticket shows, lots of national acts. It’d be a step up.”
    “They gotta ask us first,” Eddie says, rather hopelessly.
    “They will,” Hobbit states, still watching the band downstairs finish their sound check.
    When the houselights dim and the band starts playing, all four guys groan.
    “A Black Phantom
cover
?” Eddie whines loud enough to penetrate the steady bass from downstairs. “For
reals
? Why don’t they cover ‘Teen Spirit’ while they’re at it?”
    “That’s what happens when you’re famous!” Brook shouts at him. “Everybody covers you!”
    “Black Phantom’s not famous yet,” Mike says.
    “Hey!” Eddie barks suddenly. “You guys hear? They’re playin’ through here on the last leg of that tour with Nightrage!”
    This piques everyone’s interest. BP hasn’t played locally in over a year, since they got that record deal. It’d be cool to see them again. The label, Pharaoh Records, is independent—which is another word for
minuscule
—but does put out some good music.
    “When’s that?” I shout at Eddie.
    “Dunno!” he says. “November, maybe! But they’re comin’ back before the tour starts, too, for a couple days, so maybe they’ll do a show while they’re at it!”
    The next two bands are unremarkable, and by the time Nightrage finally takes the stage, the crowd’s restless. So am I. Not because I’m anxious to see Nightrage implode again, but because every time Mike looks at me, he gets