Page 4 of Smoke and Glitter

What the hell am I supposed to do with that?

I pick up the glass because my hands need a job, and standing here holding nothing feels worse. I take a slow sip and watch him over the rim. Sam holds my gaze without leaning closer or saying something to rescue either of us from the silence. I've never met a man who could stand there and do nothing that well.

Smoke climbs the back of my throat. My eyes water, but I don't blink.

"Okay," I say.

It comes out lower than I intended, rough around the edges in a way I didn't authorize.

"Okay, Sam."

He holds my eyes for another second before somebody farther down the bar raises a hand. Sam turns away, already reaching for a bottle.

I'm still holding the mezcal when Summer catches me watching him go.

"Don't."

"You didn't have to."

I give her a look and take another sip. The smoke catches differently now that I'm expecting it.

"Point me toward your choreographer."

Summer's smile gets worse.

"Autumn."

"I'm serious."

"I know you are."

She takes me over to Bex before the next act starts. Within a few minutes we're talking about the chair number, why it works and why cutting it would be a mistake. Bex has strong opinions about both. So do I. By the time the lights go down again, her number is in my phone and she's promised to send me footage from a rehearsal.

It happens easily after that.

Tony mentions he's been trying to get a Saturday off, so we talk about how he's been asking. The woman beside me joins the conversation, then stays in it. I learn her name, what she does, and that she's been thinking about leaving a job she hates for six months.

This part I know how to do.

People make sense once they start talking.

The problem is that every few minutes, my attention slips back toward the other end of the bar.

Sam is always doing something. Pouring. Listening. Catching a server before she has to call his name. Once, I see him slide a glass of water toward a woman who never asked for one. Another time, he replaces an empty bowl of pretzels without breaking whatever conversation he's having.

He notices everything.

Twice I start toward him and don't make it there.

The first time Summer catches my arm because the next act is starting. The second, a server passes between us and I let myself turn with the interruption instead of continuing forward.

By the third time, I'm annoyed enough with myself to keep going.

Sam sees me coming and steps away from the taps.

Then he waits.

I had something ready. I've had several things ready, actually.