Thrilled to have a specific task to perform, I scrambled to get a pen, then changed my mind and grabbed a pencil instead—one with a good chunky eraser.

My ringtone blithely sounded off from the kitchen counter, and I jerked nervously away from it. Glancing at the journal, my decision was instantaneous: I was sooo not telling anyone about this. Scrabbling for the phone, my greeting came out as something of a croak.

“Good, I caught you.” As usual, Gabe was oblivious. I could hear his fingers clicking over a keyboard and assumed he was still at work. My gaze shifted curiously to the timer yet again.

Gabe was my best friend, and maybe that should have entitled him to a juicy divulgence, but he was also an engineer, not to mention a coworker, and his mind worked, more or less, the same way mine did. Seeing as I’d already classified this whole situation as un-freakin’-believable, I really didn’t need, and couldn’t stomach, his second opinion. I decided to stay mum, perched against the counter, a watchful eye on the journal.

“I assume you’re aware that South by Southwest kicks off tonight,” Gabe continued when I hadn’t spoken.

“Aware, yes; indifferent, also yes.” I wasn’t the type to get excited about the city’s annual movie slash music fest, no matter how prestigious.

Gabe ignored me. “So the music part of the festival doesn’t start till next week, but some of the bands arrived early and scored some extra gigs.”

I’d tease him for using the word “gig,” but I needed to speed things up here.

“So ... ?” I heard myself asking, my feigned interest the closest I intended on coming to any plans he might have for me that evening.

“So I’m heading down to Fadó with a couple of expats and a guy in from Glasgow, and I thought you might like to come. It’s a Scottish band.” With Austin nicknamed Silicon Hills and Glasgow dubbed Silicon Glen, many companies operated sister facilities, here and across the pond, creating somewhat of a foreign exchange program for the high-tech set.