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B y November, we had the three things Zack said we needed to get where we needed to go: an internet presence (social media, website, and mailing list); several demo CDs (while not the best, it wouldn’t be hard to get an idea of how good we were after a few minutes); and a few dates.

Zack had long ago done the math—if we could play three or four shows a week, we could start focusing on creating a real CD, investing in merchandise.

And maybe we could even cut back on the hours we worked for our boring jobs.

Fortunately, my employers were happy to work around my schedule.

They put me on mornings, meaning I had to be to work by four-thirty AM five days a week.

Even though that sucked, it meant my evenings were free.

The only time it was really bad was when we had a show the night before.

If we got home after two, I decided I’d just stay awake.

But Zack had us on target. He steadily wrote new songs, about two a month, and we’d practice, changing them as the rest of us learned them and getting them perfect. Eventually, we had a demo CD with five of our best songs on it .

After wasting two months living in Denver without a single gig, though, we knew Zack had finally figured out how to get us noticed—especially when he managed to get us a show as an opening act at Aces & Eights Lounge.

To celebrate, Zack announced that we were going to party hard that night as soon as Braden got home from work.

I had the next day off, so I was glad I could stay up late and have fun with my band members.

A guy Zack worked with at his new dishwashing job, a skinny blond dude who wore the baggiest jeans I’d ever seen, promised to get him as much liquor as Zack could afford (with a little fee and, of course, partying privileges).

We all figured it didn’t hurt to have friends, because they might be the ones to fill the audience and party with us until we found our true following.

Wes, Zack’s coworker, showed up close to eleven that night.

I’d already napped on the couch while Cy and Zack watched some stupid haunted house reality show and, when I’d awakened, Braden was sitting on the floor next to me.

“Guys,” Zack shouted, “this is Wes.” Wes wasn’t much older than the four of us—I guessed maybe around twenty-five at the most—but he acted like he was a lot more mature, and he was happy to play the part of the hero who saved the day. “So what did you bring for us?”

I wasn’t sure if the big box was any indication of how much money Zack had given him or instead of the kind of financial prowess Wes possessed.

Inside the huge box were two six-packs of beer in aluminum cans in a brand I’d never heard of, two bottles of cheap-ass whiskey that could probably double as paint thinner, a bottle of vodka, two bottles of cabernet sauvignon and one of chardonnay.

“Geez. Are we opening a liquor store?” I asked, secretly impressed.

“Fifty bucks’ worth of liquor,” Zack announced with pride.

“Well, minus a little finders’ fee,” Wes said.

“But it’s more than enough to get y’all wasted, and there’s a little something for everyone.

” After handing the box to Zack who took it to the kitchen, he also patted on the shirt pocket of his red flannel shirt.

“And a little something else, my friend.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot.” Zack started shoving beer cans and wine bottles in the fridge before grabbing five glasses out of the cabinet.

“But I think we need to start with shots.” He snatched up the tall bottle of vodka and poured what I estimated to be more than a shot’s worth into each glass.

Braden handed one to each of us as Zack continued playing bartender and then, once we all held a glass, Wes included, our leader began to wax poetic.

“Three short years ago when we first started this band, did you think we’d be here?

Sure, it’s been a little difficult since we made the move, but this next gig is gonna prove to all of us that it was totally worth it.

When the right people hear our music, they’ll know we’re the real deal.

They just have to hear us, guys, and that’s why this next step is so important.

We haven’t made it yet, but look how far we’ve come. ”

Wes clinked our glasses. “Cheers.” We all echoed his sentiments and, before I had even raised the glass so that the liquid tickled my lips, the guys were slamming their glasses on the counter.

“Dani! Dani!” Zack started the chant and the others followed, encouraging me to just get it over with. So I did.

As with the limited times I’d drunk before, the vodka heated my pipes as it worked its way down to my tummy, and the sensation of needing to cough was strong as I took a breath.

I’d only ever remembered drinking with Zack, and it always had that effect on me, so I wondered what the appeal was with people who loved it.

“I think we need another one.” When Zack started filling our glasses up again, I thought some of telling him I didn’t want any, but the spirit was festive and the camaraderie somehow strengthened through this symbolic act.

As we clinked our glasses together again, I could feel the vibe in the air—we were this close to making it big and we’d barely just begun!

I would be able to tolerate cockroaches and a shitty job for a while if it meant we were going to be rich and famous right out of the gate.

I shuddered this time, admitting only to myself that vodka wasn’t my thing. I hadn’t tasted enough alcoholic beverages to decide which kind I liked, but I already knew I wasn’t a fan of vodka or rum. “Let’s break out some beer.”

I wasn’t a fan of that , either. But I didn’t say a word as Zack started passing out the cans so we all had one.

Cy touched the top of one of the bottles of wine. “Mind if I try this?”

“Help yourself, bro.”

Wes raised his eyebrows. “Don’t be expecting the shit you’d get at a fancy restaurant.”

“As long as it’s more than zero proof, I’m good.”

After nodding at him, Wes got closer to me. “So your name’s Dani?”

“Yeah.”

Zack said, “Let’s move this party to the living room. I bought a couple decks of cards today, so we’re gonna play poker.”

Wes’s smile made me avert my eyes, wishing he hadn’t been looking at me. “ Strip poker?”

Ugh.

When Zack began leading us from the kitchen, he walked right in between Wes and me, almost as if he wanted to protect me—and I was grateful for it.

Although he had a beer in one hand, he was carefully holding two bottles by the neck of whiskey and the vodka we’d already cracked open and put a dent in.

No glass, though, so maybe he planned to drink straight from the bottles now .

As soon as we all sat down, Zack popped his beer open. “We’ve earned this.”

Cy had to be his usual party-pooper self, though. “Not quite, fearless leader.” Opening his beer, he added, “But we will be.”

“So…poker.” As he grabbed the deck, Zack pretended like he hadn’t heard a word our other guitarist had said. “Do we wanna play five-card stud?”

“Nah.”

“Sure!”

My voice sounded squeaky when I joined the fray. “I don’t know how to play poker.”

“Ah.” Zack took a swig of beer. “But you know how to play chess, my friend.”

As he spoke, I realized that everything I heard almost sounded a little muffled, like someone had gently pushed cotton balls into my ears. “Are they similar?”

“Not even close. Chess requires you to think and strategize, but poker requires a little bit of luck and finesse.”

“Kind of like the guitar.” Braden grinned at his easy analogy.

Zack rolled his eyes. “Don’t listen to him.

” Quickly, he gave me a quick rundown of the rules—just enough that I could fake my way through the game.

Then he said, “Let’s play a couple of practice rounds and I’ll walk Dani through it.

” He gave the deck to Cy and told him to deal.

“Five card draw.” By the time I had the cards in my hand, Zack had taken two swigs of whiskey.

I knew I didn’t want to touch the stuff—especially because I was starting to feel the effects of the vodka. My muscles felt warm and melty, my teeth almost numb, my eyelids droopy.

“So tell me what you think your move should be, Dani.” I had a pair of twos, a king, a ten, and a five in various suits. I also had no clue. “You can discard up to three cards, and you do that hoping that the dealer will give you better cards. ”

That gave me an idea. I pointed to the pair of twos. “Keep those?”

“Yes. Anything else?”

I pointed to the king. “Maybe that?”

Zack nodded. “She’s a natural, fellas. If she gets as good at this as she is at chess, she’s gonna whoop our asses.

” He lowered his voice. Even though the other guys were commenting, Zack commanded my attention.

“So you take the other two cards and toss them over here upside down, and Cy will go around the table, giving everyone enough cards to have a full hand of five again.” Although I could smell the whiskey on Zack’s breath, I didn’t dare turn my head to look at him.

He was close—too close, and I felt that familiar ache for him all over again.

But when I got my replacement cards—an ace, another two, and a nine—I risked it. His green eyes were ablaze and the saliva I had to swallow felt like a river. I wanted to tell Zack so badly how much he meant to me, but this was not the place or time.

He whispered, “And you’re lucky, too.”

That I was. I had three of a kind and two high cards. Even as a newbie, I knew that was a good hand.

So it was time to bet—only I was clueless about that stuff, too.

Zack helped me with that and with the next two hands, but he was almost touching me, and it was becoming more and more distracting. Especially the next hand I played. Zack actually draped his arm over my shoulders and said, “Okay. Pretend I’m not here.”

Like that was a possibility.