The bar’s décor hadn’t changed much in the years since we had been there. Matt had asked Jordon and I to meet this guy whose voice he claimed was amazing, perfect for the band and a perfect replacement for Aron. We had been skeptical at first, thinking that it was just one of Matt’s friends who had little to no talent and he was just trying to be nice…or desperate to get the band going again. Then he had told us that this Danny guy had auditioned for American Idol. Wasn’t going to lie, Jordon and I both laughed. We just kept picturing that oriental looking guy who sang that “She Bangs” song. We had little to no hope that Danny was going to work for us.
Turns out we were completely wrong. Danny was perfect. We even watched his audition tape and were blown away by just how good he was. His voice was perfect. He could hit higher notes than the majority of us could even imagine. We offered him the job immediately. And he dropped out of the American Idol contest just as quickly.
As it was early morning there were only a few patrons in the bar, most drinking cups of coffee, while a few alcoholics drank tall beers. How I wished I could be joining them right now. We were obvious in what we were trying to do. At first we walked up to everyone, looking at each of their faces in hopes of finding Danny amongst them. All the while keeping a close eye out for any of Aron’s goons. But we each turned up empty.
“Dude, where else can we check?” Matt shrugged his shoulders.
“Excuse me, can I help you?” A young brunette waitress stood behind us.
Dylan emerged from the bathroom, “Nothing.”
I turned to her; hoping honesty would win her over. “We’re looking for our friend. He might be in trouble.”
“I’m sorry? And you think he’s here?”
“We’re not really sure. We need to look around for him.”
“I can assure you that if he’s not one of the patrons out here or in the bathroom that he is not here.”
“We beg to differ ma’am.” George’s voice was heavy but held a smooth edge to it.
“Does he work here?”
“No.”
“I’m sorry. I really hope you find your friend and that everything is ok.”
“Dude, the kitchen!” Dylan chimed in.
The waitress scurried off to find her manager, Matt followed, either to distract them or do some damage control. George pushed through the kitchen door and pointed us in different directions. We hurried, knowing we had a limited amount of time. The manager was probably already calling the cops on us. The sound of pots and pans clanging together as we turned the kitchen upside down covered up the sound of protesting kitchen help.
“You’re fucking cleaning all of this up!” Shouted one.
“Get the hell outta here!” Yelled another.
“Get the fuck out of my way!” George yelled at a fryer cook. He scurried to the corner, looking as though he were on the verge of tears.
Dylan was on the other side of the kitchen, tearing apart the small head cooks office. I wasn’t sure how he managed to get inside but felt as though I should never ask. There were certain things about Dylan I knew better than to ask, how he intimidated others was one of them. I, on the other hand, was opening up cabinets that a grown man could be stuffed in. We were both coming up empty handed. That was until we heard George’s voice from the freezer.
