The bus boy he’d been ogling moved to the table next to Cary. He plunked the tub down and rested one hand on his hip. “How are you doing on that beer? Your server took off. If you want another, I’ll get it.”

“You’re serving tonight?” Cary finally saw his face. Thick dark lashes framed his hazel eyes. A silver ball decorated the space between his bottom lip and chin. A tiny bit of mahogany colored hair dusted his cheeks and concentrated on his chin. The man looked young. Like, young enough to be Cary’s son, young. Damn.

“Yeah.” He snorted. “I’m a jack of all trades tonight. My boss, Tyson, called me in to wait tables, but our busboy quit an hour into the night.”

“Well, since you’re serving I’ll take a vodka and lime.” Cary nodded once. “Thank you."

The man smiled, but dipped his head and blocked Cary’s view. When the guy came back with the glass in hand, he grinned. “Here you go.” He placed the glass on the table. “You did a good job on that song. This lot wouldn’t know good music if they had it whacked over their heads.”

“You know Cascadia’s stuff?”

“I’ve got the cassette. My older brother passed it down to me.” He shrugged. “I’m more into harder stuff.”

“Ah.” Cary sipped the drink, liking the burn of the vodka down his throat. The brother passed the cassette down... Good God.

“The tape broke so I got the CD over at Vintage. Leon hunted it down for me. He’s good at that stuff.” He cleared the empty beer bottles from Cary’s table. “Speaking of Cascadia, you nailed the flourish at the end. Most people can’t do that and kill it when they try.”

“Thanks.” The tips of his hears burned. He knew he’d nailed the flourish, but hearing the words from the younger man pleased him. “Lots of people sing it?”

“Nah.” He shrugged. “Most people tear the currently popular crap apart.” He picked up the bin. “I’ll be right back. If you need anything, I’m Layne.” With a grin on his lips, he turned and strolled away.

Layne, eh? Cary swirled the vodka around the glass. A tad young looking, but if he knew anything about looks, they didn’t mean shit. He sighed and downed the last swig of his beer. The kid didn’t worship Cascadia and thank you God. He wanted a friend who didn’t bow to his former fame and a lover who could tame the wild spirit within him. Might as well try to turn his life around and start over.