“It’s not the same.” Richard looked at her over his coffee mug, the steam rising up to obscure his view. “A quaint town in England isn’t exactly Gotham City.”
“Well, Bruce Wayne, I think I’ll take my chances.” The tone of her voice echoed the finality of her words.
“What if I came with you?”
“You’d do that?” She put her empty coffee cup down at the table and scrutinized him. Everything about him screamed money; from his buttoned down blue Oxford shirt, open at the neck, revealing a hint of chest hair, to his navy pants. She wondered if he knew how out of place he would look at the Mercury Lounge.
She shrugged inwardly. It was a risk she was willing to take if it meant she could go to the gig, and keep her father happy.
“Sure. I don’t think I’ve ever been there before.” He spoke as if his offer wasn’t a big deal.
“So what should I do for you in return?” Hanna’s cheeks flamed as soon as the words escaped her lips. She hadn’t meant to sound quite so provocative.
Richard nearly spat his coffee out of his mouth.
She looked at him with narrowing eyes. “I was offering you, as a friend, the opportunity to have something in return. I don’t see what’s funny about that.”
He took the opportunity to muse. “In that case, let me take you out to dinner before you leave. You show me your world and I’ll show you mine.”
“Okay, Henry Higgins, dinner it is. Do your worst.”
RICHARD WATCHED HANNA charming her way into the Mercury Lounge, despite having no valid ID and being underage. He couldn’t help but be impressed by the way she played the security staff with her engaging banter, sweet smiles, and tales of being an English journalist.
“Are you coming?” She turned around to Richard, her cheeks flushed with cold, her eyes sparkling under the lights of the entrance.
“Right behind you.”
Following Hanna into the main music area, all of his senses were attacked by the atmosphere—the cacophony of the crowd, the smoky smell of the air, the feeling of the floor sticking to the soles of his feet. He could even taste the excitement in the room as the throng of people milled about waiting for the band to come on stage. There had to be at least three hundred people all squashed in together.
“What’s the band called again?” Richard asked. Hanna grabbed his hand to pull him farther forward.
“The Strokes. They’re a five piece garage band. Lots of buzz going on around them.”
Three members of the band walked onto the stage to a loud roar of applause from the audience. Richard could tell his ears were going to be ringing by the end of the evening. His t-shirt was already starting to feel moist. The wet heat of the room was even making Hanna’s hair frizz a little. It looked good on her.
Glancing up at the stage, his eyebrows rose in surprise and he leaned in to whisper in Hanna’s ear.
“You know, I recognize at least two of the band members.”
Hanna’s head whipped around to look at him, and he gave her a shit-eating smirk.
“Really?” She looked at him skeptically.
“Seriously, I recognize them from Dwight. Definitely prep-school boys.”
“Just goes to show that even prep-boys can be reformed. So when do I get to see you in a band?”
Richard chuckled, taking a sip from his beer bottle. Hanna looked on enviously. Without an ID, she was stuck with soda.
“If you heard my singing voice, you wouldn’t have to ask.”
As they talked, the band was still wandering about the stage, doing last minute checks.
“So what are you planning to do after graduation?” Hanna asked.
“A couple of us are planning to move out to California. A friend and I have some plans for an internet start-up.”
Another member of the band walked onto the stage to rapturous applause. Richard waited for the clapping and cheering to die down before he continued. Instead, any noise he made was obliterated by the opening chords of the first song. The crowd started moving, forcing them toward the stage. There was no resisting the surge pushing them forward, and Richard glanced at Hanna in alarm, worried she would be trampled in the rush.