Aaron saw me yawning and we got up to leave, even though the band was still cooking.

We came out the front door and into the lit space just beyond it, the covered porch that bordered the parking lot. The bouncer, Roy, was standing over someone seated on the ground. Roy was as tall as Aaron but jumbo sized, and I couldn’t see around him.

Roy said, “Let’s work on getting up. Count of three.”

“The honor of a lady was at stake.”

“Yeah, great, but you can’t stay here. Either go home or we’ll let the sheriff’s department sort it out.”

We stepped around Roy. Oscar was the shit that was happening. He held a white towel over his forehead and one eye. Blood was seeping through and he kept refolding the towel to try and stop it. “What happened to you?” I said.

“A contretemps. A liason dangereuse.”

Aaron and Roy and I looked at each other. I said, “I don’t think he got brained. I think he’s always like this.” One sleeve of his jacket was torn loose at the shoulder, giving him the look of a coming-apart doll.

Roy said, “He took a swing at a guy and the other guy connected.”

Aaron bent down and poked and prodded at the towel. Oscar mewled a little, but he let him.

“I’m thinking he’s gonna need stitches over that eye.”

I bent over him. “Oscar? Hey. Where are the people you came with?”

“He’s a coward and a putrid piece of monkey meat.”

Roy said, “I think his friend’s the one who hit him.”

I tried again. “Do you have insurance? Do you have your insurance card on you?”

He muttered something that sounded like “uninsurable.” Finally, Roy said that one of the volunteer firemen was in the bar. He could get a medical kit from the fire station, clean Oscar up and probably keep him from bleeding all over our back seat. We were going to take him either home, home being Mrs. Boone’s, or to Marin General, whatever the fireman thought advisable. I was so tired, in spite of all of Oscar’s drama. I got the keys from Aaron and fell asleep in the passenger seat while I waited for the men to get everything settled.

I woke up when Aaron loaded Oscar into the back seat and started the car. “How is he?” I asked, trying to see behind me. There was an Oscar-shaped heap back there, making distressed noises. Whatever he’d been drinking smelled pretty bad by now.

“Hey man, keep your head elevated. Remember? Sit up. He’ll live. We’re taking him to Fairfax. You have to tell me where.”