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darted nervously about.
    Tim drew to a short stop in front of them, puffing for breath. “Sorry I’m late. When I found myself in this neighborhood, I thought I made a wrong turn, then I checked the directions and realized I was in the right place.”
    “It takes a while to learn a new city.” Greg placed his hand on Evan’s shoulder. “Tim, I’d like to introduce you to Evan Arden. Evan, this is Tim Polanski.”
    Tim shoved his hand toward Evan. “When Greg said we were meeting with you tonight, I almost didn’t believe it, but here you are. I’ve been a fan of yours since your first album. I’ve seen you in concert five times, too.”
    “Wow, that’s impressive. Thanks for supporting my fetishes of fast cars and gourmet chocolate with your hard earned money.” Evan shook Tim’s hand, immediately regretting the action when he felt Tim’s palm sticky with sweat. He grimaced as he drew his hand back and wiped it on his jeans, then regretted doing that since they were his favorite pair of Dolce & Gabbana.
“There’s that wonderful sense of humor you’ve got,” Greg chided.
     
“Yeah, so can we go in now?” Evan gave Greg a sharp look that told him his patience was about to break.
    Greg nodded and followed Evan to the door with Tim trailing behind.
Tim hesitated outside the door, looking up at the bar. Neon signs touting the bar was open and advertising different beers flickered behind the rusted steel bars covering a large picture window, adding the only glitter to the flat, plain front.
“This place is a dump,” Tim said. “What band worth anything would be caught playing here?”
    Evan tugged his cap lower over his eyes to hide his irritation. “These guys have only been on the scene for a little more than a year and they’ve been playing anywhere and everywhere they can to get exposure. That’s what highly motivated musicians do, and their talent should be judged based on their music, not the atmosphere they play in.”
Tim shrugged. “If you say so.”
    They stepped inside to find a woman standing with a money pouch around her waist and a bouncer at her side. The sound of fast offbeat drums and a keyboard not in synch with the drums or the guitar reverberated off the walls.
    “Sounds great already,” Tim said, his sarcasm thick. “You may be a musical genius when it comes to your own material, Mr. Arden, but I’m not sure I agree with your taste in music for listening.”
    Evan balled one hand in a fist and took in a slow, deep breath, holding it to keep himself from exploding.
Jesse’s tenor blasted over the instruments,
    “ This euphoria,
Makes me crazy.
I don’t need you in my bed, Just need you next to me…”
    The sound of Jesse’s voice drove Evan’s anger into nothingness. He closed his eyes in a long blink and exhaled his held breath in a soft sigh.
    Greg’s head snapped up, cocked in the direction of the music. He ripped some cash free from his money clip to pay the cover charge for all of them, and they headed in. Up on a small stage, Jesse leaned over the edge holding the mic in his right hand, reaching out to the people with his left. The crowd focused on his every move, shoving to get closer to the stage.
Jesse snapped to an upright position, raising his voice higher for the next verse of his pop/rock song, “Euphoria,”
    “ I won’t let you walk away, I won’t let you leave.
You finally came back to me, I’ll be everything you need. Just tell me all that I did wrong, I can change it all I swear. There’s nothing I won’t do, Nothing I can’t be…”
“Whoa,” Greg said.
    Tim turned to him. “That kid can sing. Look at the way he’s got the crowd. They’re about to riot just to get closer to him. I can’t remember the last time I saw someone sing like that.”
    Greg aimed a pointed look at Evan. “I can.”
Evan’s gaze remained on Jesse.
Greg put his hand on Evan’s back. “No one’s sitting at the tables. Let’s grab a seat and study him for a