Page 57 of Chasing Stardust

Hidden behind the quaint brick facade, Sammy’s Pub is half sports museum and half pop-culture explosion, with a side of spring break at the beach. The place reeks of stale beer, furniture polish, and sweat. And nearly every square inch is packed wall-to-wall with people.

A swarm of twentysomethings, stacked three bodies deep, crowds the long mahogany bar running almost the full length of the front wall, and every high-top table perched on the worn wooden floorboards is standing room only. In the far corner, under the blue-and-red Sammy’s marquee, a small crowd forms around the tiny stage, where a group of guys belts an off-key rendition of “Friends in Low Places.”

Dash leans in and shouts over the music. “I’ll look for a table.”

With a quick nod, I set out to find Mom’s picture.

Starting from just below my waist and reaching several feet above my head, a patchwork of assorted sports jerseys, trivia cheat sheets, and glossy black-and-white photos cover the weathered brick walls. The daunting task of searching the entire pub would take me days, maybe longer. If only I knew where to start.

I flag down a passing waitress. “Where can I find the original wall of fame?”

She points toward the back of the building. “There.”

With a shiver of anticipation, I weave my way through the crowd, passing a row of arcade games, an empty table, and a stack of unused chairs on my way to the photo gallery wall.

I gaze up at the messy quilt of framed eight-by-tens. Each one is dated at the bottom, with a photo from 1996 sandwiched between one from 1989 and another from 2001. The odds of finding Mom in this mess are slim, but I have to try.

Working my way from one side of the wall to the other, I scan at least two decades’ worth of pictures, each one so similar, my eyes cross. Hundreds of photos, hundreds of smiling faces, all posed under the same Sammy’s sign behind the stage. With no apparent pattern to their placement, the black-and-white images begin to blur, and my last shred of hope slips away.

Did we come here for nothing? Did her picture even make it to the wall all those years ago?

On the other side of the pub, another pair of singers stumbles their way through a classic party anthem, and it hits me. Mom and G-Lo were here, and whether I find their photo or not, their memories are part of this place. Just being here means I’m part of this place, too. With one last glance at the wall, I walk away.

I find Dash at a high-top table directly in front of the stage, jotting something down on a napkin. As soon as I sit beside him, he tucks the napkin into his pocket and slides a menu in front of me.

“If you want something, we should order now. Kitchen closes at eleven,” he says.

“I’m not hungry.” My stomach growls.

He lifts a brow. “Really?”

I shrug.

His lips turn down at the corners, and he sets the menu aside, his gaze focused on me. “You didn’t find it.”

I blow out a breath and shake my head.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” I force a smile. “I knew it was a long shot.”

“Do you . . .” He glances at the stage as a young brunette steps up to the mic. “Do you want to leave?”

“I don’t know.” I focus on the singer. She doesn’t look old enough to be here, and I wonder if she used a fake ID, or if someone slipped a few twenties to the bouncer to get her through the door. The mic trembles in her hand as she sings along to an old Britney Spears track. Her nervous excitement strikes a chord in me, and I imagine Mom standing on that same stage thirty years ago, stitching herself into the fabric of this place.

Butterflies flutter through my stomach, and I grab Dash’s arm with both hands. “We have to sing.”

“Oh, no!” He pries himself free with a nervous chuckle. “I’m not getting up there. You go right ahead, though.”

“Please?” Alternating my gaze between his blue and brown irises, I coil my fingers around his wrist.

He swallows, his pulse racing beneath my fingertips.

“It’ll be fun,” I promise. “I’ll even let you pick the song.”

His lips curve into a diabolical grin. “Anything I want?”

“Sure.” I release a shaky laugh. “As long as it’s something I’ve actually heard of.”