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“Hey, Leaf,” the drummer said, patting his shoulder and sitting down on the other chair.

“Hi.” Leaf leaned the guitar against the wall and picked up the burning cigarette from the ashtray. “What’s up?”

“Not much,” José replied, placing the bag on the table. “I was at First Music earlier, got a new head for the toms.”

“Was it broken?”

“The coating was peeling off, and it just sounded bad. It was overdue.”

“What’s that?” Leaf asked, giving the bag a suspicious look, although he suspected what it was.

“When was the last time you ate?”

“About six hours ago?”

A satisfied grin spread across José’s face. He liked hearing that. “Then consider this dessert.”

“You’re bringing me food again?”

“Tamales,” José said, lacing his hands behind his head and breathing in the fresh air.

Leaf had given up trying to explain that he wasn’t needy; it was like talking to a wall. José kept bringing food, over and over again.

“Is he here?” José asked.

Leaf nodded.

“And is he okay?”

He peered at José with a blank expression.

“What happened?”

Leaf shook his head.

“No. What happened?”

“Nothing.”

José gestured to the open door. “I’ll get a beer.”

“Go ahead,” Leaf said, well aware that José would take a quick look around. That was okay, but he wouldn’t like what he found. Leaf wearily rubbed his face, wishing for the daze to return.

“And?” José asked, returning with a beer. “Did you guys talk?”

Leaf shrugged.

“He’s acting like the last four weeks never happened,” José said thoughtfully, leaning on the wooden railing.

“He didn’t forget,” Leaf countered, eyes downcast.

“Maybe we should all sit down and talk it out. I mean, even the stuff you’ve got lying around on your table isn’t helping.”

Leaf grimaced and glanced out into the darkness. “Are you turning on me?”

José smiled and took a sip of beer. Leaf reached for his beer bottle and realized it was empty.

“If you’d said something, I would’ve grabbed one for you too.”