I shrugged. I didn’t know enough about friendship to answer Vicky’s question with any degree of expertise.
“I know how to be a good friend,” Vicky went on. “And I know how to be a good musician. I don’t always know how to be both at once.”
“It’ll be fine,” I said. “Pippa’s awake again, so I’m sure you have nothing to worry about. See?”
Vicky glanced across the room. Pippa had roused herself enough to talk to two guys. They were a lot taller than her, and she was standing up to speak with them, but she kept swaying and having to grab on to their arms to stay upright.
“Swell,” Vicky said.
The booking agent approached us then. He held out the pink beverage to Vicky, and she took it.
“Hello,” he said to me, holding out his now-empty hand to shake. “I’m Pete. Welcome to my club.”
“Elise.” I shook his hand and tried to avoid his gaze, like he would see in my eyes that I was only sixteen.
“Hey, Elise, I’m sorry to ask,” Vicky said, “but would you mind just giving us a minute?”
I smiled and moved away, but I didn’t really know where to go. I tried to dance by myself for a song or two, but it wasn’t as fun alone. I did a slow pass around the room. Char was up in the DJ booth, but he looked too busy to talk, and, anyway, I felt too shy to just go up there and start a conversation. I didn’t know how Pippa managed to do that.
Thinking of Pippa, I glanced over at her. One of the tall guys who had been talking to her now had her pressed up against the wall. He was grinding into her, holding her head upright.
I went back to the bar to find Vicky. She was with Pete still, but they’d been joined by another guy and girl, and Pete seemed busier talking to them than to Vicky. She stood a little bit apart, like she was waiting her turn.
“Vicky?” I said.
She gave me a quick smile. “Sorry to banish you earlier. I’m just trying to … I don’t know, if he would just talk to me…”
I shook my head. “I’m fine. It’s Pippa.”
Vicky looked over to where Pippa’s rag-doll body was stuffed between a wall and a guy groping her chest. “Shit,” she said, and in about two seconds she was across the room grabbing the guy, pulling him off of Pippa. I stayed a step behind her.
“Get your hands off of her!” Vicky screamed over the music.
The guy stepped back and Pippa sagged to the ground, unbalanced without his support.
“Whoa!” He put up his hands. “What’s your problem? She was fine with it. Right?” he said to Pippa. Pippa did not reply.
“This is not what ‘fine with it’ looks like,” Vicky retorted. “Girls who are ‘fine with it’ are able to keep their eyes open without help, and they can speak in full sentences. I guess you haven’t had much success with that kind of girl, and I can see why. You’re a pervert.”
Vicky hauled Pippa to her feet. “Help me, okay?” she said to me. Together we dragged Pippa over to the DJ booth.
“Char, I need to talk to you,” Vicky called up to him, shaking his leg.
“I’m kind of busy, Vicks,” he called back. “I’m working. Write it on a Post-it, okay?” He gestured at the pad of stickies near us.
Vicky adjusted herself so more of Pippa’s dead weight was leaning against me, and then she shouted to Char, “Put on a goddamn long song and come talk to us.”
Char must have been able to tell that Vicky wasn’t kidding, because he transitioned into “A Quick One, While He’s Away,” a song by the Who which is about eight and a half minutes long. He jumped down from the DJ booth. “Is everything okay?” he asked us.
Vicky shook Pippa’s body at him. “Does everything look okay?”
Pippa’s eyes fluttered. “Chaaaaarrr,” she slurred. “I ffffancy you.”
“You should take her home,” he told Vicky.
“I have brought her home so many times,” Vicky said. “I just want this one shot, Char.”
“You’re talking to Pete?” Char asked.
“I was. Until this happened. Will you take her?”
“No way,” Char said. “I’m working. If you need to stay with Pete, just call a taxi and send her home in it.”
“Great idea,” Vicky said sarcastically. “Last time I did that, she paid the taxi driver three hundred dollars in cash and passed out in her elevator. Someone needs to go with her, and it should be you.”
“No,” Char said.
“It should be you,” Vicky repeated. “Don’t act dumb; it doesn’t suit you. She wouldn’t be like this right now if it weren’t for you.”
They stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Char sighed and said, “You know I’d take her, Vicky. But I have to DJ until two o’clock. What do you want me to do, just throw on a mix CD and walk out the door? This is my job. And of all nights, Pete’s here. How fast do you think I’d get dropped if he saw me just put my iTunes on shuffle and take off?”
“I could DJ,” I offered.
They both looked at me.
“Thanks, Elise,” Char said, running his hand through his hair, “but you don’t … I mean, you did a great job playing that one song last week, but that doesn’t mean you can DJ an entire party for an hour, or however long it takes me to get Pippa home and get back here.”
“I can do it,” I said again. I felt my heart slamming against my chest. “I got turntables and everything. I’ve been practicing.”
“Come on, Char,” Vicky said. “She’ll be fine. Start can handle itself for an hour. Pippa cannot.”
Char kept shaking his head.
“Remember how you believe in me?” I said.
“Fine,” he said. “Get up there. When this song is over, transition out of this and into something else. If you can do that, then maybe I will accompany Pippa home.”
“No problem,” I said. I climbed up into the DJ booth, which felt so much farther from the ground than it had last week. I could feel Char’s eyes on me. Focus, Elise.
I lightly touched the dials and the knobs on Char’s mixer, acquainting myself with each of them. I brushed my hand against the turntables. I looked at the computer. A minute and a half left of “A Quick One, While He’s Away.” A minute and a half to cue up the next song.
I had practiced this for three nights in my bedroom. That’s not a lot of practice. Char had been doing this for years. Still, I’m not precocious for nothing. As “A Quick One, While He’s Away” came to an end, I crossfaded into “It’s the End of the World As We Know It (And I Feel Fine).” Suddenly everyone in the room was pogoing up and down and speeding through the lyrics as one.
“See?” I called down to Char, trying to catch my breath.
He heaved a sigh. “Fine. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He gave me a look that clearly said Don’t screw this up, then put an arm around Pippa’s narrow shoulders and guided her out of the room.
“Yes!” Vicky pumped her arm. She turned to go back to the bar, but then she looked back to ask me, “Are you actually okay up there?”
“Um…” I was scrolling through Char’s song list as fast as I could. “Hard to say.”
Vicky nodded, gave me a little salute, and went back to find Pete.
Time from there passed not in minutes, but in songs. I didn’t look up from the DJ equipment once, and I barely ever took off Char’s enormous headphones. I didn’t think about Char, or Vicky, or Pippa, or Amelia, or Lizzie—I thought only one song to the next.