I call Mrs. Watt, “Hi, Mom. It’s me, Tim. Can Stu and Mike still come to our New Years Eve show?”
“I spoke with Mr. Watt. He just wants to make sure it will be well chaperoned.”
“Oh, I talked to the host parents. Since most of the kids are not in high school yet, there will be lots of parents there. They said you both are welcome to attend. I guess there’s several hundred people coming to Viscaya.”
“That’s perfect. The boys need to know they can’t completely run free.”
“Well, tell them they’re part of the band. They need to get everyone dancing when we begin to play.”
“Stu will love it. Mike just flows with the crowd. They’ve been practicing their dance moves all week.”
I laugh, “You know Mike told me last summer that he wanted to have a best friend. He picked Stu because he was so much like Scott. Mike said he’s like me, with no brothers or sisters. He had it all planned so he and Stu would be best friends.”
“Did Scott know?”
“Yeah, that was before we stopped talking.”
“Well, Mike is wonderful, much like you were with Scott.”
“Really, I was friends with Stu before Scott and I became tight.”
“That’s right. You got Scott to break out of his shell and be a better brother.”
“I know. You are a wonderful family. Jace was so touched when you said he could call you Mom. I had to drag him away before he got all teary.”
“I wondered why you two left so quickly.”
“Yeah. He doesn’t even know his real mom. His step-mom lets his step-brother bully him.”
“Someone should talk to her.”
“I stopped the brother’s bullying. He’s afraid of me now.”
“Good for you. Jace is living with you, like Scott did?”
“Yeah. Our band is all our friends in the neighborhood. I think you’ll like us at our show. We play for the fun of it. We even have three girls who sing backup vocals. We call them the Jacettes.”
“You never fail to amaze me, Tim. Thanks for making Stu’s Christmas so special. Having Mike as his best friend has been great. He missed you a lot when you and Scott broke up.”
I catch my breath when she says ‘broke up.’
“Moms know these things, Tim. I also know you were so good for Scott. The fact that he chose a girlfriend over you doesn’t mean we stopped loving you.”
The tears start up. Where’s Jace?
“Someday Scott will know it too. He still has a lot of growing up to do. I think Jace is good for you. I’m proud that you are doing so well. I don’t want to know everything, but I saw last night that you both love each other.”
“Everyone knows. We don’t hide it. Jace really loves me back. Because I’m the first person ever to love him, he’s become a new person. The band is just one expression of it. He really is a musical genius. You know how much I like singing and performing. We are a match.”
I am so happy to have an adult who I can tell about Jace and me. I forget I am about to cry. I want to go on and on. I think, this is what a real mom does.
“Mom, I’ll never forget my summer with you and your family. I want to make you proud of me.”
“Proud Mary, right.”
“Yup. I knew you’d know what I wanted you to feel.”
“Merry Christmas, Tim.”
“Merry Christmas, Mom, and Happy 1975.”
“And Merry Christmas to Jace.” 
I run upstairs and tell Jace that Stu and Mike Jr. have to be in the band or they cannot go to Jenna’s party.
“What are they going to do?”
“Dancers. They’ll be right in front. When we play they’ll start dancing, just by themselves. Everyone else will jump up, especially the girls. And we won’t have that gap when no one is dancing ‘cause they’re all shy.”
“No problem with Stu and Mike.”
“Yeah. They’re going to practice all week to be ready.”
“Cool. Except now we have 10 people in the band, plus Iggy.”
“And those 3 black girls from the other night.”
“Is 14 enough for your ego?”
“You’re the one with the ego, seven minute guitar solo on ‘Freebird?’ Remember?”
It confuses him that he could be as egotistical as I am. He lived without an ego for so long.
“Well, that’s not my song. That’s just how it’s played.”
“Like you don’t get off on just you for seven minutes in front of a hundred screaming college kids.”
“Yeah. Let’s open with that on Friday.”
His devilish grin
shows me he is hip to my game. We both laugh.
It’s time to get ready for Christmas dinner. We dress up like last time 
in dark suits with white shirts and ties.
Jace says he refuses to wear shoes. ”So, no Mr. Polite this time? We gotta smell your dirty feet in the French restaurant?”
“We promised Robby we’d never wear shoes, all Fall.”
I think about it. “Okay, but we’ll put shoes and socks in the car in case we get busted.”
We walk into the living room, looking half dapper and half homeless. Susan instantly sizes up the fashion faux pas.
“Boys, where are your shoes?”
We have them behind our backs, so we show them to her.
“We buffed them up and don’t want them to get scuffed, ma’am,” Jace fabricates an excuse.
“I’ll never really understand boys,” she moans.
As we drive to the restaurant, we see Robby and Mary walking together. They see us all dressed up with my parents and wave to us. As we drive past, we hold up shoeless feet, which makes them laugh. Susan just shakes her head.
At the restaurant, Jace is more relaxed and less wooden in his conversation. My folks are impressed that we are playing at Viscaya.
“We’ve already played two shows and have three to go during the holidays.” I add. “We’ll probably take the time after the holidays to work on our own songs.”
“Now all our best songs are covers of other bands’ hits. It’s easy to get the crowd to like us when we are playing their favorites songs,” Jace explains
“That seems wise,” Dad, the music expert, agrees.
“We want to write our own songs so people will really know what we’re like.”
“Yeah,” Jace adds, “our band is named ‘False Gods,’ because people shouldn’t worship celebrities and music stars.”
“You boys are certainly interesting,” Susan concludes. “Do you know what you want to eat.”
Jace pipes up, “Tim taught me all about crème Brule, so I want to try that again.”
We all smile at him, making him aware he said something funny. I am highly amused. I order a steak. He pretty much has what I have. He is proud to eat all his crème Brule.
As we wait for the check, I steel myself to ask to keep Jace in my room.
“Dad, I told you about the fight I had with Jace’s step-brother,” I start off in a positive manner.
“Yes, you did. Although I don’t want you fighting, I’m glad that you stand up for your friend.”
“I asked that Jace have dinner with us because his brother is still there and won’t be gone until New Year’s. He goes to Rollins College. Can Jace stay with me until his brother leaves, just to be safe?”
He looks at Susan who nods her okay.
“I think I should speak with Jace’s parents.”
“They don’t believe anything Jace tells them. His younger step-brother is afraid of the bully, too.”
“Should we call Child Services?”
“My fight with Jeff was a mistake. I realize it now. We just need to keep away from him for a few days. We are so busy, we’ll be together almost all the time anyway.”
“I seem to be out-voted here, so okay. But no monkeying around.”
We both shake hands and sit up in our chairs. “Monkey see, monkey do,” we both sing.
Even Dad laughs. Jace had taken his shoes off and he rubs up the inside of my leg. I get an instant hard-on, making Jace laugh again.
Dad says, “What’s so funny.” We both laugh and Susan joins in.
We save a little steak for Max who is happy to see us return. I know he prefers we bring him pot. We have catching up and celebrating to do in the sex department. Max patiently waits as we work out our hormones. After Jace cums a huge load, I kid him, “Looks just like the crème Brule.”
“Yeah,” he says, “it goes right through me.”
Sometime in the middle of our lovemaking, he says, “Your parents are so cool.” I cannot believe it. No one has ever said that before. Finally we lay there in soiled sheets; our bellies no longer full of crème Brule.
Normally we sleep in after a night of repeated fucking, but Max has been patient enough and insists we take him to Robby’s for second-hand smoke. My body is still shivering from the twitching that ended our session that night. A morning high is what I need. Mary stayed over, so it is the four of us lovebirds, lazing in Robby’s room. It is neat that we are so comfortable around each other, just two normal couples. Jace, who has been so shy around everyone but me is now relaxed, laying in my arms while we chat. 
Even when Dave and Jazz show up, he does not move away from me. Everyone is cool about us. Which gets me thinking.
“We aren’t being fair to Hippie,” I declare.
“You mean Hippie Greg?” Michael asks,
“Yeah, but I just call him Hippie now.”
“Okay, but what’s so unfair about his name. He is a hippie.”
“Who’s the only one in the band who never gets laid?”
“Well, that’s his own fault. There’s always groupies around at shows and none of us cheat. Hell, Tim and Jace have girlfriends and each other.”
“Our next show is tomorrow night. We’ll tell all the groupies that none of us will fool around with them until Hippie gets laid.”
“Yeah,” says Jace. “Those groupies act like pervs, trying to get me alone by promising coke.”
Robby looks at Dave and Jazz. “You two are roadies. It’s your job to divert all groupies to Hippie.”
“What about us?” they ask.
“Roadies never get laid. The groupies consider roadies beneath them.”
“I’ll take being beneath any of them,” Dave brags.
“Just do your job. Maybe someone will pity-fuck you.”
“We’ll take it.”
“Pervs.”
“You can have my gay groupies,” I tell Dave, “Then you’ll have something real to confess to Father Joseph.”
He gets all red in the face.
Jace wants to go to the garage to get Max’s bowl and dog food, so I go with him. I know Jeff will not mess with him with both Max and me there. Before we leave the garage, Jeff sticks his head out the house door and asks what we are doing.
I am proud when Jace stands up to him, “None of your business, asshole.”
Jeff automatically starts for him but Max growls, and Jeff sees that none of us is backing down. He retreats back into the house. Jace smiles at me and gives Max a rub behind his ears. It takes guts for a 15-year-old to stand up to someone 19. When we get back to our room, Max knows that with his bowl and food there, he is no longer a guest. I go downstairs and call Michael, telling him that our mission for Friday’s party is to get Hippie laid. He laughs and says we better all come over to practice because it will take an incredible show to make that happen. Then, Jace, Max and I go to Robby’s where everyone is lying around stoned.
“Get up, you space cases, we’ve got a mission to be ready for.”
There are ten of us that walk to Hippie’s house and bang on his window to wake him up. We figure all the vegetarian sprouts and crap he eats make him sleep all day. From there we all walk to Michael’s. The next day’s party is a repeat performance at Pete’s house. I announce that the theme for our show is sex, so all our songs will be about getting laid. Robby says to do Doors songs. Jace announces that he will do the Manzarek electric organ parts on his guitar, so I have to be lead guitarist.
“Hippie will have to play all the songs now,” Jace announces.
“Just watch me and I’ll show you the chords if you get lost,” I tell him.
Michael pulls out his Doors albums. After listening to several songs, we decide to open with ‘Alabama Girl/Whiskey Bar.’ I really ham it up, prancing around the music room.
- Well, show me the way
To the next whiskey bar
Oh, don’t ask why
Oh, don’t ask why
• Show me the way
To the next whiskey bar
Oh, don’t ask why
Oh, don’t ask why
• For if we don’t find
The next whiskey bar
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you, I tell you I tell you we must die
• Oh, moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why
• Oh, moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why
• Well, show me the way
To the next little girl
Oh, don’t ask why
Oh, don’t ask why
• Show me the way
To the next little girl
Oh, don’t ask why Oh, don’t ask why
• For if we don’t find
The next little girl
I tell you we must die
I tell you we must die
I tell you, I tell you I tell you we must die
• Oh, moon of Alabama
We now must say goodbye
We’ve lost our good old mama
And must have whiskey, oh, you know why” - • Songwriters: WEILL, KURT/BRECHT, EUGEN BERTHOLD
© Warner/Chappell Music, Inc.
Then we practice ‘Hello, I love you.’
“Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?
Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game
Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?
Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game
She’s walking down the street
Blind to every eye she meets
Do you think you’ll be the guy
To make the queen of the angels sigh?
Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?
Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game
Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?
Hello, I love you, let me jump in your game
She holds her head so high, like a statue in the sky
Her arms are wicked, and her legs are long
When she moves my brain screams out this song
Sidewalk crouches at her feet
Like a dog that begs for something sweet
Do you hope to make her see, you fool?
Do you hope to pluck this dusky jewel?
Hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello, hello
I want you, hello, I need my baby
Hello, hello, hello, hello”
• Songwriters: COCHRAN, CHARLES/COOK, ROGER F. /
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
I suggest that Hippie sing it. Jace winks at me and yells, “Yeah.”
Hippie isn‘t so sure. “I can’t sing and play at the same time.”
“Well, just sing. Do you know the words?”
“Sorta.”
“Hell, it’s just a party. Let’s try it.”
I put the song on the stereo. Hippie is really concentrating on the words. After twice on the stereo, we play it with Hippie stumbling through, getting stuck and stopping.
“Hippie, if you forget a line just stutter something but don’t stop. I’ll sing backup so there won’t be any dead air. Stand here at the mic, so everyone knows you’re singing.”
It takes him a while to get used to the mic and to feel confident with the words. I am singing right behind him, so it helps him learn all the lyrics. We never get stuck or have to stop. He does not look that happy that we want him to sing, but he takes it seriously. We are confident that he will survive.
We play ‘Love Her Madly.’ His rhythm is so sweet the girls will die. ‘Light My Fire’ is to be the last Doors song and we save ‘LA Woman’ for an encore, if needed. After a couple of hours, Robby brings out a joint and we take a break. I notice that Hippie refrains from smoking, so I ask him, “What’s up?”
“I think I need to be straight so I don’t screw up. And I thought playing bass is hard.”
“Wrong approach, dude. You get high. It won’t matter if you screw up.”
Robby comes over. We make him spark it up. Robby gives him a shotgun. Hippie can barely stand up. 
“Okay, we’re going to do Hippie’s song again, with a little Colombian Gold soul.” Hippie hits all his lines and finally looks like he is enjoying himself, which is what we want.
After setting up, we do our normal Sorrento’s pizza, beer & pot chill, getting back to Pete’s house at nine. Philip is there with Felix, his previous friend, and three other gay guys. They’re standing in front, my gay groupies.
“Welcome back to Pete’s Place,” I announce to the crowd which is at least twice what it was at Thanksgiving.
“Hope you all scored goodies from Santa. Tonight’s a night for lovers, so all you metal heads better find girl friends or else we’ll send my gay posse after you. Tonight’s about makin’ it and getting’ it on.”
A big cheer goes up. Philip’s group starts scoping out the macho metal heads.
“You know where Pete set up the bar, so to get everyone in the mood, here’s the Doors’ ‘The Next Whiskey Bar.’”
We start the syncopated rhythm, the Jacettes came in at the Chorus, “Oh, don’t ask why, oh, don’t ask why.”
At the second verse, I find the youngest girl who’s near the front and sing,
‘Well, show me the way
To the next little girl’
I sing the rest of the song to her. I notice several other girls edging up to us. Jace plays the keyboard parts with a witchy guitar sound that mocks Manzarek’s actual electric riffs.
Time for Hippie’s debut. I motion him over and set the mic so we both can sing. Jace starts in with his organ/guitar intro and Hippie stares right at the nearest girl and belts out, “Hello, I love you, won’t you tell me your name?” 
He has no trouble with words or mic, so I step back and just play the guitar parts like Robbie Krieger. Hippie totally channels Jim Morrison. All the girls in front of him are jumping up and down, thinking a rock star is singing to them. We finish with ‘Light My Fire,’
but the crowd feels cheated at our short set and kept shouting, “More, more.” We do ‘LA Woman.’
but they still aren’t satisfied.
“Okay, that’s enough of the Doors.” I look down at my gay posse who are looking despondent that I have not played any glitter. “This is for my friends Philip and Felix.” I sing the Stones’ ‘Let’s Spend the Night Together” to them as they hug each other.
“I’ll satisfy your every need (every need)
And I now know you will satisfy me
Oh my, my, my, my, my
Lets spend the night together…”
Songwriters: JAGGER, MICK / RICHARDS, KEITH
Let’s Spend The Night Together lyrics © ABKCO Music Inc.
It changes the mood quickly with all the gay boys making a scene.
“Okay, no more encores. We’ll be back. We’re just teasing ya.” 
We all stay with our equipment and watch to see what Hippie does. There are at least five groupies surrounding him as he puts his bass away. Jace has his flock of groupies but I hear him tell them he is not interested. “Y’all come back after the bass player gets laid. Until then, I’m off limits.”
Philip and Felix and their group surround me. We chat about the store and other non-sequiturs. Jace’s groupies all head for Hippie, pulling him away from his own coterie and dragging him off to a more private room. Jace and I high-five. ‘Mission accomplished’, or about to be. We wander over to where the three Jacettes are sitting.
“Why do you all look like the cat who’s swallowed the canary?” Mary challenges us.
“Guess who just got taken away by three groupies,” Robby says.
Mary looked around. “Where’s Hippie Greg?”
“Seventh Heaven, or wherever good hippies go.” I say.
The girls all giggle. “Who’d want to do it with Mr. Green Jeans?” Flo asks.
“The power of rock n roll.”
“Is that why he’s singing tonight?” Mary asks.
“We thought he felt left out. We now just call him Hippie.”
“Some day all your little pranks are going to bite you on the ass, Tim.” Flo scolds me.
“Then come here and make me feel like it was worth it.” She comes over and puts her arms around me. Edi does likewise to Jace. Mary shakes her head, but she grabs Robby as well.
Someone takes a picture of all of us. A college age guy introduces himself as a reporter from the Miami Reader, the weekly free newspaper.
“You guys are False Gods, right. I keep hearing about this new band that puts on quite a show.”
“Really,” Jace perks up, ready to promote us.
“What have you heard?” I ask.
“So many rumors. You play all week on the street in front of a gay store in the Grove, you’re still in high school but just smoke out instead of going to class, you’re all gay, you’re all jocks at Gables High, you take requests and can play any song by ear, you’re metal heads, you’re devil worshipers, Iggy Pop sang at one of your shows, you’re into glitter, you did a sex show at a gay bar.”
“All true, especially the gay part,” as I give Flo a tongued kiss. “Do you want the truth or should we just go by the rumors? They’re pretty good publicity.”
“I can write about the rumors, and then tell people about what’s true.”
“Well, we’re all friends who live in the Gables and have been singing and playing all these songs since before we can remember. We have two drummers ‘cause it’s a cool sound. We wanted both drummers in our band. Jace here is the best musician; he’s the one who plays by ear and can do anything on his guitar. We didn’t really know it until Halloween..”
“Samhain,” shouts Robby.
“Yeah, yeah,” I affirm. “Talk with Robby, he’s the one into the occult, but it’s not devil worship.”
“Okay, but what happened on Halloween?”
“Well, Jace’s evil step-mother wanted to put him into The Program in Fort Lauderdale. You know what that’s like?”
“Yeah, we’ve done stories about how normal kids get really messed up there.”
“So, I had him hide out at my house until he got up the courage to convince her he didn’t need drug rehab. He brought his guitar over. We started doing covers together, ‘cause I always sing at parties and know all the songs too. After the Samhain ceremony I told Robby I’d had a vision. We were to have a band that shows everyone that musicians and celebrities are all false gods, like John Lennon saying he’s more famous than Jesus. We wrote our first song then, which we’ll play tonight. Tell us what you think. It’s easy to get kids excited when we play covers of their favorite bands. We’re writing our own songs for the future. We only have four originals now. After the holiday parties are over, we’ll concentrate on doing our own songs. We are only do parties because it’s fun and people like us. Maybe we’ll be something special later. Right now we’re just playing and having great parties. What did you think about our Doors tribute?”
“You definitely have your own style. How did you make it sound like Ray Manzarek was playing keyboards?”
“I told you Jace is a prodigy; he just makes his guitar do what’s in his head.”
“Where’s that bass player who did ‘Tell Me Your Name?”
“We hope he’s taking advantage of his sudden fame.”
As if by cue, Hippie walks up with his hair all tied into little braids and his clothes half-off. “What’s up?” he asks.
“This reporter wants to know if you got laid?”
“How’d he know that?”
“Everyone knows you’re a rock star now.”
“Well, I didn’t know..”
“Well, did you get laid or not?”
“Those girls took off my pants and were examining me or something. It just went off.”
Too much information, Hippie. The Jacettes make ugly expressions. Robby pulls out a joint and tells him, “Congratulations. You’re on your way.”
The reporter smokes out with us. He asks if he can do more interviews. We tell him to hang out anytime, giving him the address for the next night’s party.
“Hardest working band in rock n roll,” Jace declares.
It’s time for our second set. Hippie is back to his confused state, so we start with Zeppelin’s ‘Dazed and Confused.’
“Metal time, people,” I shout.
We do ‘Paranoid,’ ‘Smoke on the Water,’ ‘My Generation’ by the Who and Kiss’s “Party.’’
All the metal heads are swinging their long hair while their girlfriends press to the front. Jace is running around, sliding on his knees while his guitar cranks out ear busting sounds. I have to scream out the lyrics at a higher octave to be heard over the guitar. My voice finally breaks, so I call Mary over and we do our ‘Freebird’ duet.
We walk off as Jace is doing the long seven minute ending solo. Someone gives me a beer. After Jace finishes, people are screaming for more. We come back and do the Velvet Underground’s ‘Walk on the Wild Side’ for Felix and Phillip’s crew
and then ‘Rock n Roll’ to say what we stand for:
“One fine mornin’, she puts on a new york station
And she couldn’t believe what she heard at all
She started dancin’ to that fine-fine-fine-fine music
Ooohhh, her life was saved by rock ‘n’ roll…
…Hey baby, rock ‘n’ roll
You could dance to the rock ‘n’ roll station
• It’s all right, all right
All right, all right
All right, it’s all right
All right, all right
Baby, baby
Baby, baby, ooohhh”
Songwriters: Reed, Lou
© Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC, SPIRIT MUSIC GROUP
I’m done. I can barely speak above a whisper, let alone sing. Then in the back, they start a chant, “Iggy, Iggy, Iggy.”
We haven’t seen him all night, but he comes running through the crowd , shirtless, tight jeans, dog collar, black eyeliner and cranking his fist in the air. I start ‘Search and Destroy,’ with Jace coming in with the fuzzed leads.
Iggy grabs the mic, all the metal heads push into the groupies up front. The girls sit down at our feet and we rip through the song, ‘I Wanna Be Your Dog.’
Max, who’s been quietly stoned in the corner runs up to Iggy and starts howling with him. At the end, the crowd picks up Iggy and carries him around the room 
as we keep playing. Max stays with Jace and me, wagging his tail and sometimes barking. Robby and Michael do a big drum roll and “Boom’ to end the gig. The crowd won’t let us stop. I look at Jace and ask, ‘False Gods?’ He nods vigorously, so I run over to Robby. 
“You ready to sing? My voice is shot.”
“All I know is my song.”
“I know. It’s time. Get up there.”
Michael is glad to be by himself.
I croak into the mic, “ This is our song, ‘False Gods.’”
Robby grabs the mic, waits until my guitar is ready and shouts/sings:
“Where others feared to tread,
they gave us up for dead,
memories live on eternally,
heard as Lucifer’s proud plea,
a world of our own,
on high a black throne,
we sang to make them be,
happy for all eternity
…we are False Gods, we are False Gods…
a world so meek and blind,
laughing at all of mankind,
fools don’t ever understand,
we’re not one of Satan’s bands,
a world of endless flaws,
facades and miracles applause,
eulogized but despised,
we shed our false disguise,
fall to your knees,
utter useless pleas,
cause …we are False Gods, we are False Gods…
pray in foreign tongues,
shoot your useless guns,
sacrifice your hallowed sheep,
shun the cold, dark streets,
to us you’re nasty fleas,
we made our minds to be
…False Gods, False Gods…
we will live eternally,
hear your painful screams,
keep our cold certainty,
you knew just what we mean
….We are False Gods, False Gods..”
Jace cranks his leads at the end of each ‘False Gods,.’ People are jumping up and down. This is not metal but the dark lyrics and the up-beat tempo make them move.
We walk off with the crowd shouting “False Gods, False Gods,” much more than the last time. We will keep working it. Robby just stares out at the crowd, unmoved by the adulation. 
He is looking for something. It spooks the crowd. They keep shouting ‘False Gods.’ He starts leading them in a cheer. It begins building as more people join in. Robby is on his toes, speeding up the chant, then he disappears. Everyone is confused, looking for him. A circle spreads out in the front. He’s lying flat on the floor with his arms spread out. Max starts howling. The crowd cries out a moaning ‘Oh.’ People start to freak. A few people leaving turns into a stampede. Robby remains prone until we pick him up and carry him to the back of the room.
“You okay?” I ask him.
He turns his evil grin on me. “I told you, that’s my song.”
“You made your point. Everyone ran out screaming.”
“Are we gods?”
“False gods.”
Pete comes up to pay us. He thanks us for getting everyone to leave. It’s exactly midnight. There’s been no damage and he’s run a cash bar, which nets over $4000. He doesn’t hesitate to give us our 25%.
“Pizza and beer,” I shout and everyone cheers. Pete thinks I mean more money. He gives me another $100.
“Come with us,” I tell him.
He is too spooked by the ending. He says he has to clean up.
Tim at Swim 