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want?”
    “Isn’t that what we all want?” he shoots back. “I just want to play. I’m never more alive than when it’s just me and that guitar. I can’t stay away from it.” I nod. I completely understand. “So I’d rather work for peanuts doing what I love than make someone else rich. It’s a hard life, but it’s worth it when you hit the right note, or compose the right song.”
    “I work at a pizza joint right now,” I tell him, reaching for my own beer. “Singing is the only thing that keeps me sane. If I could do it full time, that’d be a dream come true.”
    He glances over me with wise, knowing eyes. “So what’s stopping you?”
    I sigh. I ask myself that same question dozens of times a day. “You name it, I’ve got an excuse for it, I guess. I live with my great aunt. She’s in her seventies. She helped take care of me and my mom until my mom passed away. I guess I feel like I owe her something. How can I take away what little income we have left? Just doesn’t seem practical.”
    Yael chuckles. “There’s no room in rock music for practicality, my friend. If we were all rational, sane people, we’d get a nice, safe nine-to-five just like everyone else. We live off of the danger. We get an adrenaline rush from the uncertainty. Not a whole lot of people are built to sustain this life, and even fewer people actually make it. Knowing you can do nothing else has to be enough sometimes.”
    I nod. I get it.
    “One person,” he goes on to say. “That’s all you need. Convince one person you’re a rock star and that person will convince another and another. It’s like a ripple in a pond.” He gestures to Marty, who now sits in one of the booths near the bar, flanked on every side by an adoring fan. “Marty may not be the best singer in the world, but he’s convinced enough people that he’s a star. He believes it, right down to his bones. It fills in all the gaps of mediocrity.”
    The comment takes me by surprise. I thought Marty was a decent singer. Or maybe he had convinced me he was with his swagger and stage presence, just like Yael says. It had amped me up and sold me on his rock-n-roll image from the moment he stepped out into the spotlight.
    “What about you?” I ask. I can tell by his face that he’s not use that question. It’s almost as if he’s familiar in the anonymous, darkened shadows behind the more dynamic frontman.
    He chuckles again. It’s a wry little laugh that immediately makes me smile. “He’s got swagger, I’ve got skill. Whether I play backup for him or backup for some other singer, it doesn’t matter. As long as I get to play.”
    “You deserve to play in front of sell-out crowds,” I tell him sincerely. I recognized his skill when he improvised a guitar solo on one of the cover tunes. “He’s not the only one convincing people he’s a rock star.”
    Yael shakes his head. “Yeah, I don’t know about all that.”
    I hold up my beer mug. “I’m only one person, but you convinced me.”
    He mulls over what I said before he clinks his glass to mine. “Guess it’s your turn to go convince someone.”
    I glance up towards the VIP section above the stage. “You are absolutely right.” I toss some bills on the bar to pay for our drinks before I head up the spiral stairs to find Lori.
    I don’t have to go too far. Tony and Lori begin their descent right as I reach the middle of the staircase. I wait until they reach me. “Early night?”
    Both nod. “I get enough of this place when I work,” she says, stifling a yawn. She’s indulged me yet again like the good girlfriend she is. I take her into my arms. “Let’s head back to the house, then.”
    She pulls away ever so slightly. “Actually, I’m going to stay in town tonight.” I immediately pout, so she touches my arm to reassure me. “I have an early train to Boston tomorrow. It just makes sense.”
    I nod. Her family is from Boston, and I forget that people with large families tend to