After a mutual laughing fit about yet another of Reg’s college tales, Reg put an end to Jeremy’s joy by saying, “Hey, Jeremy, man, I don’t want to rush you out of here, but we usually close at midnight during the week, and it’s almost one.”
“Oh.” Suddenly feeling sober and tense again, Jeremy rubbed his hand over his nose and reached for his leather jacket, which he’d tossed over the empty barstool next to him hours earlier. “Sure. Yeah. Sorry about that.” He pulled a handful of bills out of his wallet and threw them on the bar, not bothering to count them. “Keep the change.”
Keys in hand, Jeremy climbed off his stool, planning to leave the bar. He was surprised when Reg darted his upper body forward and snagged his keys.
“Hold on, man. It’s late and you’re drunk. Is there someone who can come pick you up?”
Jeremy snorted. “No. I’m in, uh….” He tried to remember the name of the nothing little town. “Whatever Park.” He rolled his eyes. “Why would I know anybody here?”
“Wow. I’ve had people turn into violent shitheads when I cut them off, but snobby diva is new.” Reg flung his ever-present towel into the bar sink and locked up the register. “I was going to offer you my couch for the night, ’cause there aren’t any motels in walking distance, and I have better beer than we serve here, but you can go ahead and sleep it off in your car, superstar. I’ll bring you your keys in the morning.”
“Oh.” Hearing that Reg hadn’t been throwing him out but had, instead, been trying to change locations, vanquished Jeremy’s resurfacing tension. With that relief came the realization that he had acted like all the stuck-up assholes he couldn’t stand. “Crap.” Falling into a nervous childhood habit he hadn’t been fully able to shake, Jeremy tugged the collar of his salmon-colored T-shirt into his mouth and chewed on it. “I didn’t mean to, uh….” He rubbed his palm over his eyes. “I’m sorry that I….” A thought slammed into him, making him flinch and then gape at Reg. “You called me superstar.”
“I also called you a snobby diva.” Reg arched his eyebrows. “Are you ready to earn a spot on my couch and a bottle of Kilt Lifter by playing nice?”
“Yeah, I, uh, don’t know why I said that. I’m not usually, uh….”
“Stuck up?” Reg grinned while he said the word, somehow making it seem more like friendly banter than an insult. “An entitled prick?” He stepped out from behind the bar, still smiling. With both of them standing, Jeremy realized Reg was at least half a foot taller than him. “Such a douche nozzle?” He playfully bumped his arm against Jeremy’s shoulder. “Stop me anytime, man. I’m running out of words here.”
“Do you know who I am?” Jeremy asked as they walked side by side to the door.
“Are you being a conceited dick again?”
“No. No.” Jeremy held up both hands in protest. “I’m serious. You called me….” He sighed, took his hat off, and wiped it against his brow. “Never mind.”
“Purple, huh?” Reg asked, glancing at Jeremy’s hair. He flicked off the light and then pushed the door open and held it with an outstretched arm, leaving room for Jeremy to pass. “Looks good. You’re into the colored hair, right? I think I remember seeing a picture when it was green.”
Standing in the cool night air, Jeremy watched Reg lock up. “So you do know who I am?”
“Man, I don’t live under a rock. ’Course I know who you are.” He turned around and started walking, twirling the key ring over his finger. “At first I didn’t, because it’s dark in there, but we’ve been talking for, what? Six hours straight?” He shook his head. “It’s not like I can’t see your face.”
Following a few steps behind, Jeremy processed the comment. The fact that Reg recognized him wasn’t a surprise. In fact, the opposite would have been hard to believe. But he wasn’t acting like most—or really any—people did when they met The Jeremy Jameson.
“Why aren’t you freaking out?”
“Dude.” Reg shook his head and laughed. “You sure do think a lot of yourself.”
“No, I don’t.” Jeremy rushed forward so he could catch up to Reg. “It’s just that usually people act different when they meet me.”
“Oh.” Reg was quiet for a beat. “Because you’re famous?”
Famous. Rich. Powerful. Attractive. And, he liked to think, extremely talented. “Yes.”
“Yup.” Reg nodded, as if in understanding, which made no sense because a bartender from Nowhereville couldn’t possibly understand the first thing about what it was like to be a multiplatinum, Grammy-winning recording artist. “People are weird.”
Well, that was one thing they could both agree on.
“So, uh, you live nearby?” Jeremy asked when they started walking along the side of the road, leaving the parking lot behind.