When the gang stumbles into the Teke house through the side door at about twenty after one in the a.m., there are still thirty or so people milling about, drinking, playing pool and watching movies. Collin, one of Ian’s fraternity brothers, comes over to meet them. “Hey! Look who it is,” he said with a strong southern Geogia accent—not grating like Alabama or big like Texas—just enough to let you in on his southernocity. “Ian ‘Yankeefuck’ and his magic traveling circus! What’s goin’ on?”

The boys all say their hellos, and Ian steps up to introduce Kristin and Daphne. Collin shakes hands with both of them, charmed, commenting that he knows Kristin from Mean Mike’s.

“Nice ta meetcha’,” he says to Daphne.

“And do you know Nick?” asks Ian.

“Yeah,” Collin says, shaking Nick’s hand. “You did those fucked up paintings, right?”

Nick nods.

“I saw ’em at a party at your place once. I love those, man.”

“Thanks.”

“Everything’s all bent up and shit. You musta’ been high when you did those.”

“No, but that’s what everybody says, so…”

“Well, c’mon in ya’ll. They’re still playin’ Baghdad in the basement. Grab some beers.”

Everyone makes their way to the basement in a crowd. Collin turns to Travis, “Hey man, I didn’t get to tell ya’, like, I dug your show.”

“Yeah,” Travis replies. “I saw you. I meant to thank you for comin’.”

“Me and Jamie had to go meet some people right before you were done. We scootched out pretty fast.”

“That’s cool.”

“When’re you playin’ again?”

“I don’t know yet, actually.”

“Well, let me know. I’ll be there.”

“Thanks, man. I really appreciate that.”

“Yeah. I tol’ Jamie I thought you sounded like Bruce Springsteen or somethin’.”

Travis raises his eyebrows in disbelief. It was a hell of a compliment. “Thanks,” he says, a little breathlessly.

“But like, you need ta chill out—take your time. You seemed like you were in a hurry.”

“I was pretty nervous for some reason,” Travis agrees.

“That wasn’t your first show, was it?”

“No. Not by a long shot. But every now and then it just hits me—new material maybe.”

“You jus’ need ta drink some beer before you go on,” Collin says, laughing and patting Travis on the back.

“Yeah—like a six pack,” Travis says, rubbing the back of his neck, remembering just how jittery he was that night.

They all get to the basement and pass around beers from out of a cooler. Fraternity brothers, and their dates, and a few other party-goers are spread out all through the basement, centered around three ping-pong tables. The tables are covered with paper cups filled with beer. As the opponents sink ping-pong balls into each other’s cups, the defeated have to drink whatever cup is hit.

Everyone is settled into a small crowd with their beers, and a tall, thin man with large eyes and a shaved head walks up to Ian and Travis with a huge plastic cup in his hand. In a light Austrailian accent, he pronounces, “Don’t drink that shit.”

“Hey, Steve, what’s goin’ on?” Ian replies.

“You got somethin’ better, I take it?” Travis asks.

“C’mon,” Steve says, indicating with a jerk of his head for them both to follow. Turning to check on everyone, Travis looks over to his friends. Dizzy and Kristin are laughing at Collin’s antics. He is an incredible flirt—good ol’ boy charm mixed with a wit that catches people off guard. Nick and John are discussing something. Turning back around, Travis catches up to Ian and Steve who are already making their way across the basement to the back hall stairs. Walking up the flight of stairs they all chuckle as they pass one of the younger brothers who is passed out on the landing. “He’s ‘ad too much,” Steve said flatly, his accent making the statement all the more hilarious. When they get to the top of the stairs, Steve asks Ian and Travis, “Why ar’ American bea’ and ‘aving sex in a canoe the same?”

Ian and Travis just shrug, following Steve down the hall at the top of the stairs.

“They’re both too fuckin’ close to wata’,” he said with a smile in his eyes, and a wry grin.

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