SUMMER
When I got back to the booth, I noticed it was fuller.
That was the first thing I registered, walking back with the four drinks balanced carefully against my chest — the velvet curtain pulled half open now, the corner booth that had been our private quiet haven thirty minutes ago transformed into a small, loud, populated thing. Maddox's bandmates had found us. Sam, the bassist. Theo, the drummer. Joey, the second guitarist who barely spoke. They all crowded into the booth following Maddox.
And Camille was there too, practically sitting on Maddox's lap.
She was all over him. Her arm was looped around his shoulders. Her hand was at his collar. Her cheek was almost touching his temple. She was laughing too loud at something Sam was saying, and she had angled her body so that anyone
