The singer approached the microphone, tapped it with his hand, blew into it a couple times, and asked, “Is this on?”
Someone from the back yelled an indecipherable smart-a*s reply. Then their set began.
“Okay … after four—” He paused and glanced at the rest of his bandmates with a smirk. Then suddenly he yelled, “Four!”
I tapped my feet to the catchy beat of Afterglow’s first song and finished my drink. I took another moment to reflect that I was actually hanging out in a metropolis on the moon. Bruce asked if I wanted another one. Since he was planning to head to the bar anyway, I accepted.
Afterglow was already halfway through its third song when Bruce returned with the drinks.
“Kanpai!” Again we tapped our drink glasses together.
“I really like the violinist,” I commented. “It’s a
