Neil ignores me and his hands flatten against my back. He must still be pissed off and somehow I didn’t see it. Did Rene see? Is that why she gave me the look?

I feel like I’m going to freak out and make a fool of myself in Peppers. Oh how Eliza would love it if I freaked out on the steps of Peppers.

I jerk as his hand takes hold of my ass to lift me up into him and this time I use my hands to try to put a little space between us.

“I thought you wanted this believable,” he whispers as his mouth moves to my neck.

“Believable yes. Insulting no,” I snap, still struggling in his arms.

“Haven’t you ever been kissed before? Stop wiggling. I’m only doing what I would do if you were really my girlfriend and I was waiting for you.”

“That explains why you are alone,” I counter. “Stop mauling me.”

He steps back and rakes an aggravated hand through his tousled waves. “God, you had better be at least eighteen. You feel like you’ve never been kissed before. You’re not thirteen or something, are you?”

“Of course, I’m eighteen. I just don’t kiss perfect strangers.”

“You don’t kiss anyone. I can feel a girl who doesn’t like to kiss. Why don’t you like to kiss?”

This guy is just doing me a pathetic favor so why does he have to go all Dr. Ruth on me? Who would have thought this guy would be sensitive enough to pick up on anything? Neil’s got me all worked out in under five minutes.

I ignore the question. He shrugs. “Forget it. You don’t owe me any explanations.”

He takes my hand and starts pulling me through the crowd. I look over my shoulder and thankfully see that Rene has followed with Mr. New Conquest. Halfway across the room I realize lots of girls are looking at Neil, he is pretty hot, and he slaps hands here and there, stopping to talk when his name is called as he continues to work through the room. Neil is known in this crowd and popular. Most of the people don’t look local, but they know him, and it feels good to be pulled along with him in that “this girl’s with me” proprietary way and to feel unexpectedly a part of whatever is happening in this club tonight.

He stops when we’re at the far side of the room at a standing table beneath the stage. In between songs, the lead singer leans over to say something to Neil. Neil laughs, says something back. I can’t catch it, the room is too noisy.

I look across the room. Rene is still several feel away. “You’re not from Santa Barbara, are you?”

Neil isn’t really paying attention to me. His eyes are locked on the guitar on the stage. I lean into him and repeat my question louder.

“I’m a local,” he says, not shifting his eyes to me, his head moving in tempo with the music. “I just live in Seattle now.” He sets his beer on the table. “Different kind of scene. Less bullshit than SB. Most everyone here is from out of town. A few locals. But most everyone is here to see him.”

The band is good. The sound is different. But what is so special about him?

Neil leans forward into me, his elbows on the table. “This is one of those nights you’ll remember. You don’t know it now, but it is. You are here, in a no-name club, watching Kurt before he becomes famous, before he becomes iconic, as he’s just there changing music forever.”

Oh, crap. Way to go, Chrissie. This guy is a musician, probably with some struggling, no-name band in Seattle. That’s why he’s part of the happening here. He’s one of them. Leave it to me to find a musician in the crowd. That’s all I need.

I force a smile. “If you say so.”

“You can’t hear why they are so great?”

There was something insulting in the way he said that. I start to critique the band in my head: Three guys. Guitar, bass and drums. Sort of a little heavy dirge rock, mixed with punk and metal. The music is too angry for mainstream popularity. I hear a little bit of the Ramones and a twinge of Black Sabbath. Three cords, simple arrangement. Kurt has an interesting voice. Rene thinks he’s hot. The drummer is the one with the talent.

I bite down hard on my lip. Oh no! Did I just say that out loud? Crap! Neil fixes his gorgeous green eyes on me. I feel something. I’m not sure what. It’s sort of a strange thing. His eyes are hard to read, and then finally he starts to laugh. I feel some of the tension leave my body.

“You are an ignorant girl when it comes to music. You can’t kiss and you don’t know music.” Neil takes a dollar from his pocket, rips it in half, and hands a piece to me. “We’ll see who’s right.”

I hold up my half of the bill. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

“Keep it. Someday we’ll know which one of us is right and the winner gets the other half of the dollar.”

There is something cute and boyish and challenging in him. The corners of my lips tease with a smile. “What makes you think I’m ever going to see you again?”

Neil shrugs. “You have to. I’m a really cool guy who just did you a really big favor and you have half of my last dollar.”

Rene and Josh finally join us. Neil sets down his drink and takes my hand. “What took you so long?” he asks Josh.

“Andy’s over there.” Guy stare. Serious guy stare. Then, Josh sighs heavily and asks, “Are we staying or hitting it?” He looks at Rene. “You want to go somewhere to party?”

Neil’s mouth presses into a hard line. “I’m supposed to dance with you, right?”

I don’t like how he says that. “You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

Neil rakes a hand through his hair. “It’s not you. There’s just someone here I don’t want to see. Get it?”

“Ex-girlfriend?”

He gives me a quizzical look. “No. Just some asshole I don’t want to see.”

Josh says, “Neil, you’re really going to have to get over it someday.”

“He screwed us over. Fuck him.”

I’m in the middle of a heated argument between the guys, and Neil’s fingers tighten on my hand as he leads me onto the dance floor. The dance floor is large, but I can see that Eliza and her mob have left the private party room and are mixed through the crowd. Eliza is dancing with Brad. She pretends not to see me and I pretend not to see her.

Unfortunately, my eyes connect for a moment with Brad’s. He looks away quickly as though I were nothing. I feel weak, mortified, and pathetic. With that touch of eyes I am forced to admit to myself that being here is only half about Eliza. I wanted Brad to see me with someone else, so he would think he didn’t matter, so that maybe he would stop mattering to me.

I’m being consumed by an array of emotions. I can’t process them. They are too quick. And the lights in the club are casting strange color across the crowd, making Eliza and Brad harshly gleaming figures, and the music is angry, the way I feel inside, angry, angry, angry.

“You OK?” Neil shouts.

He’s watching me intently. I lean into Neil. “We don’t have to dance.”

He shrugs. “I don’t want to lose my really cool guy standing.”

I wonder if I’ve just been obvious over Brad and if Neil saw my obviousness.

“What was that all about,” I ask wanting to change the subject.

“I don’t want to talk about it. Just a friend who screwed me over. It happens.”

The heat of the room and the press of bodies around me suddenly feel too close. I can feel that Neil is annoyed and doesn’t really want to do this, is just following through because…I don’t know why he’s following through on being a really cool guy.

As a group, we roll into another song. The floor is packed, the music loud, Rene is in her element, and Neil and Josh are drinking, holding us, somehow still moving and somehow still arguing. Everyone around me seems drunk. They all look so into the moment, so into the scene. I don’t feel connected with the mood at all. I’m no longer in the room. I stop being in the room the second Brad touched me with his eyes and looked away as if not seeing me. I feel awkward and small as people near me slam into me and every so often Neil’s body presses up against me.