Then he said, close to her ear, “So—would you like to spend the night with a future rock star?”
She almost laughed at him. She said it might be nice but she needed to go.
Sossity walked into InnerSpace and remembered hanging out and playing there in her early days of performing. It looked much the same and as it did twelve years ago—a coffee bar with seating and a small raised stage in front. Digory looked around, his nostrils twitching.
“Does it always smell this smoky?”
“Always did. Sometimes I’d play this place and I’d be sick for two or three days from second-hand smoke.”
He stopped in the center of the room.
“You really want to do a show here?”
“You remember some of the holes I used to play in when we were dating.”
“None of them were like this place. This is a real hole.”
“At least they always paid me.”
She remembered when she was still in high school and played blues during the poetry slams held in the space. The cigarette smoke would be thick and people packed in, sometimes standing or sitting on the floor. The performanc…