Dance in the Dark by Megan Derr Page B

so."
    "So how did you decide on the name of your bar?" Johnnie asked.
    Peyton grinned. "I can see you already know the answer. It was about six years ago, now. I'd just quit Blue because of crap that went down and was going to keep going down; that pack went bad a long time ago. Anyway, I was drowning my sorrows in beer with my last twenty when I met this guy named Jack. He'd just ditched a problem situation of his own, was looking to follow his dream of being a singer.  I could strum a guitar well enough; it was about the only thing I hadn't yet pawned.  He had a gig, was good at getting them, so we palled around together for a bit. Wasn't really my thing, but hey, it was better than moping. A couple months later, we met this guy Roosevelt. He did drums, needed a new band. He also had a bassist friend, called himself Cat. So we played for a bit together, did all right. It was my idea to call us Bremen Town, ‘cause it was a lot like the old story, yeah?"
    "Then what?" Johnnie asked, as obviously the band had not stayed together.
    "We came here," Peyton said. "We weren't real big, so we had odd jobs to supplement what we made when we got a gig. I worked here, serving drinks and bouncing the occasional problem. Cat fell into music tutoring. Last I heard, he'd gotten a degree and was a proper teacher and shit. Roosevelt owns a bed and breakfast; it's just outside the city on the west side. We all found things we'd rather be doing, and our hearts just weren't in the music anymore.  Eventually we broke up. We were all cool with it, except Jack. He always hated us, claimed we were just using him and all." Peyton shrugged. "I hear about him from time to time; last I heard he was still singing and doing well for himself. Me, I like serving beer."
    Heath laughed. "You like lording it over the six drunks who keep you in business. Speaking of, business must be booming with Mr. Fancy Pants here ordering vodkas all over the place."
    Peyton flipped Heath off. "This places closes, jackass, you'll have to find a new watering hole on which to waste your trust fund."
    Making a face, Heath only said, "Water me."
    Rolling his eyes, Peyton moved to a special cooler below his shelves of liquor and pulled out a bottle of dark green glass wrapped with a black, green, and silver label. Blood wine, Johnnie recognized. Vampires had a million and one ways to enjoy the only sustenance they required, even if the traditional method remained the favorite.
    Setting the bottle and a wine glass in front of Heath, Peyton took the twenty Heath held out, then moved down the bar to refill drinks, including a fresh vodka for Johnnie. He also set a fresh beer on the bar, two stools down from Johnnie.
    A minute later G-man appeared and moved immediately to the waiting beer. "Thanks," he told Peyton.
    Johnnie half-turned to face him. "Thank you for getting my belongings."
    G-man shrugged. "Forget it. Wasn't doing anything else, and the way they tried to get information out of me, I can see why you didn't want to go yourself."
    Johnnie nodded in agreement. "I have no doubt they are under orders to keep me there once I appear."
    G-man rolled his eyes. "A blood sucker tried to tail me, but he sucks at it. I lost him down on fourth."
    Lifting one brow, Johnnie said, "You have experience with being followed?"
    Peyton and the others laughed. "Yeah, he's good at that shit. He's like some secret agent, government spy type. That's why he's G-man."
    "I see," Johnnie said. "So what—" he stopped as the door opened, and a man came in bearing boxes that clearly contained food. The pizza, he supposed.
    "Set'em on the tables," Peyton ordered, and handed over the necessary cash. "Thanks, man." The delivery man nodded, and departed, and Peyton set Chuck and Nelson to squaring everything away, including bringing Johnnie a plate. Acutely aware of all eyes on him, but somehow amused rather than annoyed, Johnnie obediently picked up a piece as he saw someone else do, and took a