It wasn't unusual for members of the film crew to hook up with locals when on location. Because of the nature of the job, and all the moving around, many of them were single and there was a certain element of charm to the idea of helping make a movie. Many locals were star-struck. It didn't seem to matter if you were a director or an assistant or a set builder, a film crew was a film crew to most people. Also, it took a long time to make a movie. The production company anticipated that it would be a year before they could wrap up filming and people like Levi and Hange had to be there, on set, every day almost. It could get lonely.

Ellway had exactly two bars, one was an ancient country-western ho-down yee-haw dive off of the highway and next to the largest truckstop. The Stockade was actually a nice place, within reason, and was old but fairly clean. It catered to locals—the older crowd—and of course the truckers. You could get a beer, whiskey, and even a damned good burger with a pile of fries or onion rings. There were boiled peanuts and roasted peanuts and peanut shells covering the floor. You could play pool or pinball and dance the Electric Slide on a Friday or Saturday to a small local band. If you were lucky, you could find a local gal (or guy) who'd give you a blowie in the parking lot for $20.

The other bar was attached to the Midnight Inn and called Dreamers. It catered to the younger crowd and travelers. (it was situated, literally, right across the highway from the other bar.) Dreamers didn't have food beyond cocktail peanuts and pretzels and a few appetizers, but had a full bar. There was no jukebox, no pinball, and certainly no peanut shells. There were still prostitutes, they just charged more.

They were warned by locals that both bars were packed on a Friday night and Levi picked Dreamers (Hange had argued for The Stockade but Levi had threatened to walk back to the motel along the side of the road.)

They each bathed and dressed and got ready to go about eight o'clock. Eight was still a bit early but they both wanted to get some serious drinking in before the heavy crowds got there.

The Dreamers was right across the street from Levi's and Hange's motel, almost facing each other across the road so they just walked. Even though the sun had set, it was hot and Levi could feel the sweat prickle in the short hairs of his undercut. As they walked they could see glow of lights and hear the steady bass beat of the country music from The Stockade even from across the highway.

The Midnight Inn was set further back from the road and was a more modern structure than their own motel. two stories with external walkways outside the rooms which all faced the front parking lot. Dreamers was off to one side on the ground floor but still attached to the motel itself. To get into the bar you had to go through the lobby of the motel.

The bar was low and dark and not very loud. Only the murmur of voices and the clink of glassware betrayed the people in the shadowy corners. In a back area were three pool tables, all occupied and a bit more lit. The click of pool balls carried into the front where Levi and Hange had paused to let their eyes adjust.

The two of them caused quite a sensation and for several long moments, most of the noise stopped as everyone in the bar turned to stare. Levi and Hange stared back, used to it. After a moment everyone had looked their fill and people turned back to their drinks and each other and the volume in the room returned to normal.

There was no bouncer or hostess, so they found a free booth and sat.

It didn't take long for a slender young man with sandy hair to appear at their table. He wore black slacks and a sleeveless white tee with an apron tied over it. He had a pad in his hand and a pen behind his ear.

"Hi, I'm Jean, what can I get you two?"

Levi and Hange assessed the cute young man and met each other's gaze. The night was already looking up.

At 9:00 on the dot, the music started up along with some tasteful strobes. The crowd had grown steadily and now all the booths were full and people lined the bar. The crowd had also gotten decidedly younger, young marrieds, college kids, young businesspeople off work late.

Several people moved out to the middle of the floor to dance.

"Good thing we got here early," Hange said over the music. "We wouldn't have gotten a seat." They were steadily and determinedly working their way through a pitcher of vodka Gimlet while Levi was on his third whisky.

"You guys good here?" It was Jean, their waiter.

"Hey, again cutie!"

Hange was getting drunk.

"What's up with the crowd? This town's not that big."

"Oh everybody in town comes here or to The Stockade on Friday and Saturday night," Jean said, "It's either that or stay home and watch TV. They'll be three deep at the bar by 10:00."

"Awesome! Can I get more poppers? Levi, you want more cheese sticks?"

Levi was shaking his head when suddenly he grabbed her arm. "Shit, Hange, isn't that your guy from the billboard?!"

"WHERE?!"

Levi pointed and both Hange and Jean looked.

"Oh, yeah, that's Mr. Berner," Jean said. Hange dug her fingers into his arm.

"Oooh! Introduce me!"

"Hange! You're putting Jean on the spot!" Levi prised their fingers off of their waiter. "Jesus fuck. You'd better go get her those poppers."

Jean retreated, a look of epic gratitude on his face.

Hange and Levi studied Mr. Moblit Berner, their neighborhood realtor, from their vantage point a few booths down and at a right angle. Hange was facing him but Levi had to actually twist around in his seat to see him (he always sat facing the door, always,) so he nursed his whisky instead. Besides, his sworn duty was to Hange, to be her wingman.

Hange was fascinated with her crush.

Berner was dressed in chinos and a light blue short-sleeved dress shirt. He was honestly one of the best-looking men Hange had ever seen and they were picky. He was even cuter in person. His eyes were kind and light brown and sort of knowing as if he understood a lot more than he let on. His hair was soft-looking and brown and not parted but sort of split naturally in the middle of his forehead. It was short at the back but he'd left it longer in the front and the cut made him look young.

He was with a petite, androgynous-looking young woman with short blond hair. Friend? Girlfriend? Wife?

Hange looked for rings but neither wore one other than a decorative gold one on the woman's right hand, middle finger.

Hange looked across at Levi. He looked bored. They loved him, more than any other person on the planet—he was truly their best friend and had been a long time—but he was a terrible stick-in-the-mud. No fun.

He came to a bar (dragged there by Hange,) drank himself silly, then took a cab home. No fun!

Hange wanted human interaction. Excitement! Fun! Maybe even romance! They sighed. The romance part was hard. She checked her pitcher of drinks. Three-quarters of the way down. May as well order another. They'd get a bit drunker and ask Berner if he wanted to dance. If not him then maybe the blond woman. She was adorable.

Hange flagged down Jean.

By ten o'clock, as Jean had predicted, the bar was hopping. Hange was getting drunker and wilder, throwing back their head and laughing loudly, slapping the table, making the appetizers jump.

The dance floor was inside the large open square made by the booths on three sides and the bar on the fourth and was full, making people-watching more difficult.

Levi was on whisky number six and getting toasted. When he got up to piss he staggered slightly and had to hold onto the booth backs for balance a few times. He reminded himself that he had to at least be sober enough to walk back to the hotel without getting splattered in the road trying to cross.

Across the room, Moblit noticed Levi leave for the bathrooms.

He'd been surreptitiously watching. The small, dark-haired man sat with a woman with wild brown hair swept up into a ponytail and thick, square glasses. The woman was loud. She gestured wildly, laughed uproariously, and drank like a fish. Moblit couldn't keep his eyes off of her. He watched the dark man move off, slightly unsteadily. Were he and the fascinating woman together? They were strangers. Moblit wondered if they were just traveling or what.

He gazed at the woman some more, admiring her thick reddish-brown hair, her lean, boyish figure. If he were drunker—and could dance—he'd ask her for a turn on the dance floor.

Maybe. He'd need to be a lot drunker. He downed his bourbon and gestured for another.

Mike and Erwin arrived at Dreamers a few minutes after 10:00. The place was, predictably, packed. Mike worked his way through the crowd to the bar, Erwin close behind. At 6'4" Mike parted the people like a mighty ship. Most people knew them both and that helped. Mike quickly commandeered a space at the bar, edging out a couple of college boys who grumbled a bit until the two older men stared sternly at them.

Mike and Erwin both sat sideways on their stools and surveyed the crowd. They weren't regulars but were not unknown at the bar. While they looked around, the bartender brought them their drinks without having to take their orders; Grolsch for Mike and Bud Light for Erwin.

Erwin elbowed Mike and nodded at a booth on the far side. "Berner and your girl."

Mike immediately blushed. "She's not 'my girl'!"

Erwin sipped at his beer. "You've had a crush on her for, what? Months now? When are you going to make a move, big guy?"

Mike rubbed the back of his head. "Soon. Maybe tonight."

Erwin grinned. "Going to hold you to that."

"What about Mobes? Did you ever find out if he's seeing her or do they just work together?"

Erwin shrugged. "As far as I know she just works in his office. I've never seen them out together except on business."

"Shit, I hope so." He stared hungrily across the room at the petite blonde woman.