A soft yellow flame lapped against the marijuana bud loaded in the pipe. As I inhaled, the green chunks caught on fire, sending smoke up into my mouth, my lungs. I held it in as long as I could, but the coarse smoke grated my throat, and I coughed like a freshman in high school behind the bleachers on their first time. Laughing, a little bit embarrassed, but mostly enjoying the high. She had warned me that the screen in her pipe had fallen out of place, so the smoke was harsher than in a normal pipe. She was taking another hit herself, much more used to smoking than I was at that point in life. She exhaled and resumed eye contact with me.

“So, who’s your date?” She asked me. I was very stoned at this point. My human lenses refusing to open up any more, making the room feel hazier, darker, warmer than it really was. I could muster nothing more intelligible than a low grumble and an arched eyebrow.

“Your date!” She persisted, “You said you had two tickets. I’ve already got mine, so who’s your date?”

I leaned back in my chair, processing it all. It just so happened that the last time I saw Queen Anne in concert was where I learned the valuable lesson of not buying just one ticket to a concert, even if you don’t have anyone to go with. Ever since then, I made it a point to always buy two. I always figured you could find someone to go with you, or you could sell the extra. But there I found myself with an extra ticket, unable to find anyone to attend with me, though in a different way. That is everyone else going had already bought their own.

“Akshay found someone,” I said. I looked up into Katherine’s eyes. She was watching me very intently. I reflected on our relationship at that point. She and I knew each other through a friend circle that had some seasonal rotators, usually people fondly remembered from college who came and went as they moved away or fell out of contact through whatever means. I had fond memories with Katherine, like the year we all went to the Gayborhood Halloween party. I also had negative memories associated with her, like the time I was physically chasing my then-girlfriend up the street because she felt self-conscious at my acknowledgment that Katherine was also an attractive woman. Katherine and I had both graduated to a place in our mutual friend circle where everyone else was already married, or engaged, or about to be engaged, leaving both of us visibly single and seemingly compatible. I had tried to signal interest to her years before, but she had never reciprocated any interest back, so I backed off from that and we pursued other romances to our varying degrees of failure.

“Who’s Akshay?” She asked. I wondered if the same timeline of events had fast-forwarded in her head as we peered through the haze into each other’s reddened eyes.

“He’s a friend of mine, he’s going to the concert with us. He said he’s the guy who can always find people to buy tickets when there’s extras. He’s great,” I laughed, thinking about all the hilarious moments I’d shared with Akshay during the last year I’d known him.

“I don’t think I’ve met him,” Katherine said, returning me to reality, “Want to smoke another bowl before we call the ride?” Katherine packed one more pipe while I refreshed our drinks in the kitchen. I came back into the living room, Katherine had put on the latest Queen Anne album, Red Wretched. I handed her the drink.

“I love Red Wretched, I think it’s so powerful,” she said, “A reflection of where she’s arrived as an artist.” She lit the pipe. I grumbled and readjusted my seat thanks to the clunky flask in my back pocket, taking another drink from the glass and putting it on the table.

“I mean, there’s a few songs I like, but it sounds way too generic to me,” I dissented. “Her last album I didn’t get at first, but after a couple of listens, it stuck. Queen Anne’s new album is just a scattershot mess that loses cohesion after the first three or four tracks. The opening is building on the themes of Icescape, but then it loses momentum and is about random characters from her life that we remember from older albums, but nothing new to say about them. Other than maybe being more famous makes her even worse at keeping up with them.” I took the pipe and took a pull.

“Wow, it doesn’t sound like you really liked her new album at all. I’m kind of surprised you want to see her live again,” said Katherine. I exhaled, coughing, handing the pipe back to her.

“Queen Anne could put out three more albums that I hate, and I’d still see her live. That’s how good her back catalogue is,” I said in reply. Katherine checked her phone.

“The ride is here.”

The line seemed to run all the way up the street as my stoned self feebly stepped out of the car, Katherine right behind me. Akshay dashed up to me.

“Jon and Dave are waiting for us inside,” he blurted, grabbing me by the wrist and pulling me to the sidewalk before remembering his manners, “Oh, hi, I’m Akshay by the way, what’s your name?”

“I’m Katherine!” she laughed, shaking hands with him in a brief pause as we walked to meet a girl standing near the entrance, but adjacent to the line. She looked to be about 22 or 24 as she stood there.

“This my sister, Vidya,” Akshay rushed us through introductions, “she’s using your ticket.” So here was my date. At long last. I pulled the two folded up tickets out of my pocket, unfolded them and handed one to her. Before I had time to say a word, Akshay had grabbed Katherine and I by the wrists and pulled us in front of the waiting line and shoved us in front of the security checkers in a tent before the front door. We all systematically produced our ID cards and received our ‘of-age’ wristbands; I noticed Vidya received the classic college Xs on her hands.

We entered through the front doors into the next security checkpoint: the line for the metal detectors. Akshay walked through first, his wallet, phone and ticket loaded into a security tray slid along the outside of the device. That’s when I remembered the metal flask full of whisky in my back pocket, certain to set off a metal detector. Likening myself to a secret agent, I pulled the flask out of my back pocket, under the careful cover of my unfolded ticket, and set them down in the tray as such, next to my wallet and phone and belt. I stepped through the metal detector. Success. No alarm. No further investigation of the tray’s contents. I collected my effects and proceeded into the concert hall.

We had formed a line, Akshay in front, followed by Vidya, my hand on her shoulder, Katherine’s on mine, leading us to our rendezvous with Dave and Jon. We met them at the bar, Katherine introducing herself to everyone. She seemed to forget that she’d met Dave before, perhaps electively, perhaps not. He kissed her at a party a couple of years before. Dave had that habit: trying to kiss women when he shouldn’t kiss them.

Akshay bought Vidya what appeared to be a fishbowl full of blue liquor. Dave bought Katherine and I some cocktails. We stood together, bathed in the pink light under the club’s balcony. Club music pulsed, and we had to yell to hear each other.

“I haven’t really listened to Queen Anne’s newest album,” Dave mentioned, “I’ve only really listened to her while hanging out with Stewart,” he gestured to me.

“I’ve never even heard of her,” Akshay said, “I mean, before we made plans to come to this concert,” he shrugged and sipped his drink.

“Yeah, me neither. I just like going to concerts,” Jon said. His visible lack of emotion a contrast to the loud filler music and the strobing lights. His face was like the bust of a faded Roman, lost to memory, made chameleonic shifting from red to purple, occasionally a green laser scanning over, making the shadows cast by his features blue. Static against the overwhelming house beat erupting from the speakers. Katherine seemed shocked that such a big group would get tickets to go to a concert for an artist they didn’t know. Vidya didn’t contribute much to the conversation, just stood there sipping her giant blue drink. The drink swished around as she swayed to the music, an iridescent ocean in a gaping glass.

Before the concert began, we fought our way to the middle of the crowd for a better view of the stage. By now, Vidya had discarded her obnoxious drink, I held her shoulder as we snaked our way through, Katherine’s hand was in my other hand, Jon’s in her other hand and his spare fingers interlaced with Akshay’s. We found a spot for the six of us to stand. We were far enough away from the speakers there and its oppressive house beat that we could hear each other without screaming. Vidya opened up the conversation.

“So how many times have you seen Queen Anne?” she asked, primarily aimed at me, partially at Katherine.

“This is my third time seeing her,” I said, “The last time I saw her, she was playing with a whole symphony orchestra,” my arms gesturing as though I were conducting the Boston Pops right there in front of us.

“My fourth time,” Katherine answered, before turning back to me.

“I’m gonna make another bar run, anybody want anything?” Dave inquired. He must have been bored, I was preoccupied with Katherine and Vidya, Akshay and Jon were in their own time zone holding hands and making out behind us. None of us verbally answered Dave, just shrugged and looked down.

“Alright then,” Dave said and walked to the bar.

“We brought these so we wouldn’t have to lose our spot,” said Katherine as she produced a soft vinyl flask from her bra. I took that as my cue to pull out my own metal flask from my back pocket. I unscrewed the lid and took a drink. Jon put his hand on Katherine’s shoulder when he noticed our flasks.

“Whatcha got?” He asked.

“This is tequila,” she said, handing him the flask, turning around to attend to them.

“What’s in yours?” Vidya asked me.

“Canadian whisky,” I answered somewhat proudly as I contemplated my flask, “What do you study?”

“Oh, y’know, math, chemistry. History. French,” She said nonchalantly, “I’m a junior in high school.”

I suddenly felt very sleazy, the alarm bells tolling in my head. She had regressed from a 24-year-old to a 16-year-old before my very eyes. Unconsciously I had screwed the lid of the flask back on and slipped it into my most distant pocket.

“I see! A junior?” I said calmly as though I had known all along, trying to brush over all the prior questionable intent.

“Yeah,” she chuckled, “I turn 17 next week!” She laughed, and I laughed hysterically. The lights dimmed in the concert hall and the stage became brighter. Katherine had turned back around and was gesturing for my flask. Dave arrived back to us just in time for the concert, holding three beers. He handed one to me and one to Jon. 

Queen Anne exited the curtains alone with a Danelectro in her arms. The crowd began to cheer wildly, Katherine included. Giant projections of Queen Anne’s head appeared on screens all throughout the auditorium. No backing band came out onto the stage with her, it was only her, her guitar and her ridiculous outfit.

My skepticism began to rise. My fondness for her old music was based in its complex instrumentation and cerebral lyrics, but her newest album was intentionally manufactured in its musicality and vapid in lyrical content, which was why I was so disappointed in it. The lack of a backing band of any kind told me that there was to be no emphasis on her older albums.

Queen Anne began slowly strumming a pattern I recognized from one of the few good tracks on her new album. She played it slow, its tempo imperceptible, seeming like a tuning exercise, gently upping the rhythm before it was obviously that track. The live rendition of this song was unsatisfying. She phoned in the solo and skipped the chorus, which set the tone for this show. No luster in her eyes as she sang, minimal crowd interaction, and what little there was came off as hollow. Whether the rest of the crowd felt this way or not, I couldn’t tell.

The crowd swayed and cheered along with Queen Anne on stage, I felt so oddly removed. A spectator to the spectators, as though watching the concert as a scene in a film, and my friends were the characters whose motivations I was trying to descramble. Akshay and Jon were trying to convince others that they were a couple. Akshay was trying to convince himself that Jon would ever let himself be had and come out of the closet. Vidya just wanted a taste of the adult life, bored of being a kid. Dave thought he’d have an easier time mingling with girls at the concert. I tried to set him up for it, with a girl in the crowd who took a long swig off my flask, and grimaced at the end of it. Her tongue was not used to the vitriol of a Canadian whisky. She didn’t stick around.

Katherine was seeming to enjoy the show, but that might have just been the booze. She made it clear that she was always game to get fucked up. At our mutual friends’ birthday parties, holiday parties, she would always brag about her attendance of many events solely for the free drinks. Or the chance to pregame. I wonder what she would have done if I hadn’t mentioned in passing that I had tickets to this concert. Would she have gotten high, filled a flask, come alone? Would she just stand by a pillar and enjoy the concert alone? Would she merge with a group of strangers? I wanted to know. It was occurring to me as I watched her there in the dark that she had never really let me in. Had she let any of us in? I didn’t know. It was something I had maybe always wanted to know but never felt comfortable with trying to ask. She looked at me, offering her gentle smile. I fought my knee-jerk reaction to suddenly dodge eye contact. I held it, I smiled back. The song ended and we cheered.

The end of a concert is a bit like the end of a flight: you’re stationary until the line moves ahead enough to get you out the door. We managed to make our way to the line out the backstage exit. This time the only people holding hands were Jon and Akshay. We emerged into the bitter winter, our breath suddenly visible. The heat of the venue escaping, warping the air at the threshold.

“Good luck getting a ride out of here quickly,” Dave remarked at the large crowds all clumping around at the edge of the lot, trying to hail a ride with their smartphones simultaneously and causing an inevitable clot.

“Who’s in a rush anyways?” Akshay asked.

“I am,” said Vidya, “My fingers are about to fall off.” She showed us her frigid digits and their delayed articulation in the cold. I took off my scarf and handed it to her, zipping up my jacket to make up for the difference.

“Thank you,” she said as she wrapped it around her hands.

“You guys want to get another drink somewhere?” Dave asked, feeling the crowd.

“I’ve got a joint if you guys want to smoke?” Katherine offered. The group nodded and grumbled in agreement. Almost as if muscle memory, Katherine led the group out of the middle of the parking lot around a corner into a dim alleyway. At the other end of the alleyway, facing the street, we could make out the low rumble of an engine and the taillights of a vehicle, but nobody was around. We were safe.

Katherine took the joint out of her boot. She pinched it and primed it before she put the filter in her mouth. She began to fish in her purse for a lighter when Jon extended his hand, holding a lighter with panache as though he had it up his sleeve all night. He smiled and lighted the joint. As she inhaled, Katherine’s face suggested all her worldly problems had melted away. She held her breath and passed the joint to me. I took a pull from it, Katherine exhaled, draping us in a viscous haze that seemed to settle on our shoulders. I disturbed the lingering smoke as I handed the joint to Akshay. I couldn’t hold my breath for as long as Katherine could, and I coughed, smoke sputtering from my lungs. Akshay took a pull, and then held it in front of Vidya’s mouth and let her take a hit. I stood there, feeling the weed take effect throughout my body, elevating my heartbeat, wrapping around my brain. The joint had made its way around the circle, on its second lap by the time I looked at Dave and suddenly saw a face over his shoulder. The sudden anxiety and fearfulness I felt at the sight manifested as laughter.

“You guys mind if I take a hit?”

Queen Anne had walked down the alley after smelling the joint. She edged her way into the circle between Dave and Jon. Dave had been taking a hit when she walked up, and he gladly passed it to her.

“That was an amazing show!” Katherine yelled, starstruck.

“Thanks,” Queen Anne said, chuckling a little. She seemed exhausted, like the last thing she really wanted to talk about was work. “Thanks for letting me join, by the way,” she said, gesturing to the joint. Jon once again produced his magic lighter and sparked for her as she stood with us.

“Where are you off to next?” Jon asked. She finished her inhale and passed the joint to Jon. She exhaled sensually.

“The tour goes to Canada next, so Vancouver. But that’s not until April. I have a bit of time off now,” she said. She nodded, suddenly feeling anxious having just joined a circle full of strangers. I had a range of questions welling up inside me that I felt needed to be asked. Namely about how she thought she could pass an album like Red Wretched off as anything but a commercial ego project. But then I began to laugh about the notion of interrogating her in that moment. As I laughed, Akshay, Vidya, Jon and Katherine all started laughing.

“Can I take a picture with you?” Katherine asked, pulling her phone out of her purse.

“Yeah, of course, come over here,” Queen Anne said. Katherine handed the phone to Akshay and crossed the circle to the singer.

“Get in the picture, Stewart,” Katherine said, gesturing me to walk over. I posed on the other side of Queen Anne, put my arm around her shoulder. Akshay snapped a few photos. I told him to change up the format, not just do portrait, turn on the flash. He fussed at me.

“Now it’s our turn!” Akshay insisted, he put Vidya on one side of her, stood opposite and I snapped the photos on his phone this time. Queen Anne had warmed up a bit, having seen her celebrity take effect.

“OK, you two next?” she asked Jon and Dave. They both looked shocked, as though they were both just announced the winners for some prestigious award. Without saying a word, they walked over and posed with her. They hadn’t even thought to hand anyone their phone, so I took it on mine. For most of the group not being particularly big fans of her, everyone became suddenly the most humble subject in the court of Queen Anne.

We finished our photo shoot, and the tail end of the joint made its way back to Jon. He took a hit, passed it and relighted for Queen Anne, who took a short drag and then it was on Dave to finish the roach. The circle chanted “Kill it! Kill it!” as Dave inhaled. He finished it, no more weed, just ash. He flicked the filter off into the dark alley. We all cheered, and he exhaled straight up like a cocky volcano.

“Kiss me,” Dave said to the singer, low. I barely heard it. She laughed and shook her head no. He insisted.

“Kiss me, Anne, kiss me!” he said, more audibly, now the circle was watching. He tried to slide his hand around her waist. But the evasive singer smiled and took a step away. Dave watched her slip away, as though she disappeared into the cloud of smoke that surrounded us. She nodded and grinned at us, said “Thank you,” quietly and made her way back up the alley.

The circle then turned their eyes on Dave.

“Let’s head home guys,” Akshay said, beginning to usher us out of the alleyway, back toward the parking lot, this time only gripping Vidya’s wrist.

“Our ride gets here in two minutes,” Katherine said to me as we waited on the sidewalk for the cars to arrive. A car pulled up and Jon led Dave into the car. The onus of guiding the deceptively fucked up Dave home having fallen on him, but he had no complaints.

“Night guys,” Jon said as he got in and closed the door to the sedan. The car drove off.

“OK, well we’re parked over there, so we’re gonna head on,” said Akshay, gesturing some indecipherable direction, “It was so nice to meet you, Katherine,” he hugged her tightly. Vidya unspooled her hands and gave my scarf back.

“Thank you,” she said and chuckled. I took the scarf and laughed.

“No worries,” I said. The siblings walked away in that indecipherable direction.

“Do you want to smoke some more when we get home?” Katherine asked me, looking up from her screen.

“Sure.”

I was seated back in Katherine’s living room, as she came back in from the kitchen with a couple of glasses of water. She lit her pipe and took a hit. I took an ungracious gulp of the water.

“What did you think of the concert?” she asked after exhaling. I shrugged and accepted the pipe.

“It was good,” I said after a short, measured pause. I took a hit from the pipe and set it back on her table. I exhaled and leaned back.

“It was so fucking awesome,” Katherine said, “Plus I can’t believe I met her! But what’s the deal with your friend Dave?” I laughed and shrugged, not sure how to word my frustration with him.

“Well, whatever. I’m just glad she didn’t get mad at us about it. I think our friends are gonna be hella jealous of us,” she said before she sipped her water. She sat her glass back down and looked me in the eyes. I stared back, brows furrowing.

“Do you want to go cuddle?” I asked.