Snippet #2769842

It wasn’t Izzie’s first time at Caton Castle. She had moved to Baltimore nearly twenty years previously, after a stint of a couple of years in New York City (a period in her life she really preferred not to talk about). In that time, she had acquainted herself intimately with just about every venue in the city, from sprawling stadiums showcasing the biggest names in popular music to little cafes hosting open mics for local talent. You know, for a given value of ‘talent’.

In any case, she’d been coming to Caton Castle since it had been the newest jazz club in Baltimore, and she’d always known the place to showcase quality bands. Quality fried oysters, too, if you were in the mood to grab a bite before the show. When the server whisked by the table Izzie and Rick had snagged to take orders, though, Izzie contented herself with a drink.

It arrived in short order and she took to sipping away at it as she took stock of the stage. Big old double bass, drum kit, thoroughly conspicuous electric blue Les Paul, a music sta—wait, electric blue Les Paul? She paused, the glass still at her lips, and blinked. Must be a coincidence, she decided, setting the glass back down. I mean, coming across Ted in the studio and then again here? Come on, what are the chances?

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If things were destined to get any less awkward, it certainly wasn’t in evidence in the way Valentina stiffly emerged from the car as if she were still weighing the pros and cons of just turning tail and running in the opposite direction. It wasn’t in evidence in the way she allowed Ada to link arms with her and then promptly began to drift away from her, causing a tug of war that both of them somehow seemed to be losing. It certainly wasn’t in evidence in the way she nearly flinched when Ada spoke up as they began to head for the Anchor.

This, Valentina was becoming more and more convinced, was going to be a disaster.

If nothing else, they managed to make it to a seat at the bar without anything exploding. It was a busy night, and the place was awash with noise—and not the good kind of noise, the kind that involved absurdly distorted guitars or EMS synthesizers. It was people noise. People talking, people laughing, people having a good time, people generally pissing Valentina off. Heck, it almost annoyed her into forgetting that she was supposed to be nervous.

Of course, she could count on Ada to remind her. She felt cold glass against her hand and nearly jumped out of her skin before she glanced down and realized Ada was offering her a beer. The drummer held up her own, smirking like she’d just played some great prank, and said something in some dreadful European tongue.

Valentina stared at Ada for a moment, and then raised her own beer in front of her eyes, regarding it as one might a piece of evidence at a crime scene. She’d never drunk alcohol before. Izzie had told her that, if she ever wanted to try it, Valentina could tell her and she would make sure the younger Martinez had her first experience with alcohol in a responsible manner. Valentina had never taken her up on the offer, and she was trying not to imagine how the older woman might react to being told that Valentina’s first taste of booze was going to be with Ada. Really, she was trying not to think of a lot of things just now.

And so, to that end, without thinking, she brought the bottle to her lips, tilted her head back, and chugged down its contents. She stayed that way for a few seconds after the bottle was empty until her brain finally caught up to her body and realized what she had done in its absence. Slowly, she lowered the empty bottle, set it on the table, blinked, and said, “Everything is about to be awful.”