And now, here was Ethan Dace, whose metamorphosis had changed my very perception of him. There was something compelling in his voice; sorrow and wisdom and hope. What was he doing in Bakersfield? I couldn’t imagine him rising to fame and fortune in so unlikely a place, but clearly no one in a position to help had recognized his talent and offered him a break.

Big Rat materialized at my side, saying, “Dude can sing. The guy’s like a rock star. I’m impressed.”

“Me, too.”

“Where the hell’s this coming from? He’s a douche bag.”

“Apparently, he’s not. Or maybe you can be a douche bag and talented at the same time.”

I stayed for the entire set. I’d expected the band to be amateurish; loud, and discordant, running off covers of popular songs done better by the recording artist. Instead, they played what I had to guess were original numbers with blues and jazz undertones. At some point, Big Rat peeled off, and 11:00 came and went and I realized this was way too late for me. The waitress passed and I caught her attention, making the universal gesture for the check.

She nodded and proceeded to the bar. The band took a break and the temporary vacuum was suddenly filled with loud talk and boisterous laughter. Instead of feeling magical, it was only a bar again; badly lighted and smelling rank. The waitress returned and handed me a bifold of leather with a cash register slip hanging out like a tongue. I moved to the nearest table where the light was better. I opened the folder and looked at the list of charges that ran all the way down the page. The total was $346.75.

“Wait, wait. This isn’t mine. I had two glasses of wine.”

“Anna said you were running a tab.”

“Me?”

“Wasn’t that your party?”

“We came in together, but I wouldn’t call it my ‘party.’”

“Is now. Everybody else is gone.”

I looked at the check again. “This has to be a mistake.”

“Nope. Don’t think so.” She peered over my shoulder, using her pen to refer to each item in turn. “Two beers. Those were Hank’s. He’s a cute guy, isn’t he? Ellen had three margaritas and two shots of tequila.”

“I counted two margaritas.”

“Are you going to argue with me over every little thing? She ordered the third one while you were in the other room, watching Anna play pool. Now see here? Anna ordered two martinis and this is where she switched to Champagne.”

“For two hundred and ninety bucks? How many glasses did she drink?”

“She ordered a bottle. She likes Dom Pérignon. She wanted the ’82, but I talked her out of it.”

“I can’t believe they did this to me.”

“Guess you don’t know them very well. I could have told you straight off if you’d asked me nice.”