Chapter 23

“Me, too, right?” Fig said. “Just a joke. Probably.” He tossed a package of sugar at Leo without waiting for Leo to ask for one. “So, did Jeff tell you that I’m playing again on Thursday? And that the guy that owns the place—you know, Matt?—he says if we get enough of a crowd on Thursday, and he can be convinced that they’re actually there to see me and not one of the other guys, he’ll let me in the lineup for the waterfront thingy.” Fig wasn’t much of a talker—one of those people that made mixed tapes for breakups and apologies because it was easier to find the words that way—so he spoke more to the tabletop than to his friends, and in that quick way-too-fast way that made it obvious he was pushing to get it all out. “You know, the thing with all the bands? In July? He’s got the license for the main beer tent this year so he’s hosting a stage in it. Paid, even.” He paused to take a sip of his coffee, scratching at something stuck to the table. “You coming?”