The night had started early for him, a way to clear his head after the workweek and get ready for the weekend. Louis got in before there was much of a line outside to make things simpler. That meant he’d been waiting a while before he was hungry enough to order food, but it gave him time to people watch. There were two things he liked about the Pit: Their reasonably priced and oh-so-greasy cheeseburgers from the bar, and the just plain strange crowd that hung around there.

	Right now it was late enough for him to order dinner. While he waited he sat staring at his magazine and slowly sipping from the beer he ordered. There was a discount on a meal if you ordered drinks, and all it took was one cheap beer that Louis could stretch to last a long while. He was leafing through his issue of The New Left Review and trying to find where he had left off with that Mike Davis article. The piece by Frederic Jameson was what grabbed his attention and led him to buy it, but this essay was a nice surprise, even a little relevant to what he saw day to day. New high rises were sprouting up down town like crops in growing season, fertilized with loads of off-shore capital, only a few miles from humble little Oceanside. Here, everything seemed frozen in time building-wise, even rent-wise, but that was fine for anyone who wasn’t interested in bragging about marble countertops and stainless steel faucets.

	It was noisy tonight, and the live act hadn’t even started. Bigby had a loud audio set up here, but somehow the lady on the other side of the bar was the loudest thing in the room at the moment. She was shouting out to Bigsby, a little gutsy of her. When Louis looked up he saw it was Darcy, who earlier in the week returned an amp she rented three days late and with a white stain on it that Louis hoped was from a kitchen accident involving cornstarch. She paid all in cash, including the late fees. It was all small bills, and the less Louis knew about what they had been through before, the better. 

Close to her Louis saw another face he recognized, Bennett Robertson. Two days ago Louis had taken a look at the wiring set up of the Palace, trying to give him a little advice and build a working relationship. Who knows, he might play a show there, which would certainly be easier than trying to get booked here at the Pit. Last time he sent in a tape sample the called him back because his material sounded so weird they thought the tape was damaged. He said to Bennett

 [color=198cff]“Hey Bennett! How’s it going with the electrical stuff, you find a contractor for the work yet? Bands these days are all lugging around a ton of cabs, you’re gonna need more juice for the stage if you want to compete.” [/color]

He also shot Darcy a dirty look, a way of silently saying that she’d better take more care with her gear if she wanted to rent from him again.