After a night of ravishing Titania, all three of us are eating breakfast with Susan and Dad. Max seems conflicted between laying at my dad’s feet or to be next to Casper, who is seated with no food in front of him. Old loyalties aside, Max knows who is more likely to give him scraps. He stays with Dad.
Susan is in a bit of a titter about the Sunday dinner engagement with the Stones.
“Do your parents dress for dinner?” she asks Jack.
“I guess Sunday best would describe it, only because they will be returning from Church.”
She looks more worried. “Should I wear a hat?”
“Certainly not in the house,” Jack advises.
“One more day of being Titania. I don’t think I can stand it,” I mutter.
“Well, for once we’re on the same side,” Dad concedes.
“We want to make a good impression,” Susan counters.
“I’ll just wear my dress uniform. It’s been a while.”
“Perfect,” Jack speaks up. “Father Frank will wear collar and surplice. Your uniform will be a counterpoint.”
“Do they take these dress issues seriously?”
“Well, there’ll be cocktails before dinner. Tim and I plan to perform a song and dance. Today we’re doing Gene Kelly’s ‘I’ve Got Rhythm.’ Then Isabelle will announce dinner. The seating will put the women between two men. Since there will only be two women, Mummy may invite some of her garden club friends to attend to even the odds. General conversation should go first to your right, then to your left, and last across the table. Of course if someone decides to dominate the whole table, everyone will be forced to listen and speak up once there is a lull. The only faux pas is not participating at all. Then Mummy will draw attention by asking you questions from the head of the table.”
“My goodness,” Susan exclaims, “I can’t keep up, Jack.
“Not to worry, if you feel awkward, everyone else tries to make you comfortable.”
“You still call her Mummy,” Dad cracks.
“I do forget to be more mature. Tim also corrects me.”
Dad and I smile at our agreement.
I turn to Susan, “How are the wedding plans coming, Mummy?”
“Oh, Tim, you’re too funny.”
Jack and I ride over early to set up the costumes and props. The Stone’s record collection has all the show tunes from their era, all 78s. We find the ‘American in Paris’ album, all Gershwin hits. We decide to do ‘S’Wonderful;’ if asked to do an encore, we’ll do ‘I’ve got Rhythm.’ Since it is set in Paris, we find French Navy striped jerseys to wear over boxy blue jeans, not too flattering. We look like twelve-year olds. Casper sets up the lights and props. We slick our hair down with Brill Cream. Yuck.
My folks arrive exactly at 1pm, ahead of the church goers, so Jack gives them a tour of the house and grounds, seating them in the sitting room and preparing their drinks.
“Spectacular,” I observe.
“This is how the other half lives,” Dad grouses.
“Maybe the half of the one percent.’
“Well, they are older, dear. All of their children but Jack are grown and gone. They must dote on you, Jack.”
“Not so much. They are so wrapped up in their own lives, they don’t have time to keep track of little me.”
“Oh, folks,” I speak up, “Mummy refers to Jack as Johnny. Also, his gay uncles, Tam and Steve, will be here and probably Father Frank; he’s of the Franciscan Order.”
“No Father Joseph?” Dad asks.
“I think he’s probably still mad at us from Wednesday night,” Jack states. “We made him uncomfortable by telling his youth group we’re gay.”
“Jesus,” Dad exclaims.
“Yes, Father?” I answer.
“That’s blasphemy,” he responds.
“Tim used his Teen Jesus talk to change three boys from haters to tolerant.”
“Teen Jesus? You go around calling yourself Jesus?”
“No, Dad. We get kids to realize that Jesus was once a teenager Himself. It gives them a new perspective.”
“I can believe that Father Joseph was upset. You will go to confession and apology to Father Joseph. You will seek absolution, as well.”
“We talked afterwards. Father Frank said Father Joseph needs to think and pray about what we said.”
“Well, he’s in an order. He doesn’t have to deal with parishioners and their children.”
“It’s Father Frank who is getting us to play at St Patrick’s.”
Jack interrupts, “This is how the conversation can become impolite at dinner. Mommy says a fine meal can be ruined by indigestible thoughts.”
The rest of us just stare at him, Meanwhile the Stones and guests come into the sitting room. The Uncles and Father Frank are back.
“Sorry. We were detained at Church. Father Joseph couldn’t be convinced to come.” Dorothy announces.
“We were just discussing how Tim insulted Father Joseph. Tim will be in the confessional next Saturday to make his amends,” Dad proclaims.
Mrs. Stone looks a bit shocked, but after a second’s hesitation, introduces my parents to the other guests.
“We had such a pleasant evening at the play last night.”
“Yes, Johnny. I enjoyed opening night immensely. Was that school official part of the cast? He’s so Falstaffian,” Father Frank quips.
Uncle Tam is over the top about Johnny in a dress and Uncle Steve praises his singing. All three turn to me and praise having the Doo Wop group come on at the end.
“All those old Gables racists are spinning in their graves.”
“Hopefully to the Four Tops,” I quip but only get a laugh from Jack.
Father Frank turns to my parents. “I admire any parent who can get their teenager to confession, but I believe Father Joseph has come around quite a bit from his first reaction. No one has ever stood up in Church and said they were gay. I guess it’s from the mouths of the children that comes the truth. It will be a lively session in the confessional. I regret it’ll be strictly private.”
Dad is at a loss for words momentarily, so Jack jumps in.
“How do you like our costumes? Can anyone guess what we’ll perform soon?”
“Hmmh, French Sailor Boys. Something from Jean Genet?’ Tam jokes.
“Do we look like gutter snipes? But right locale,” Jack wittily responds.
“Paris. Must be Gene Kelly, right?”
“Yes,” we both exclaim, ‘from ‘An American in Paris.’ This is for you, Father.”
Casper has the phonograph cued and he starts the soundtrack to “I got Rhythm.”
The Gershwin magic takes over, as we glide around the room in our socks, singing and dancing. They insist on an encore. We do ‘S’Wonderful.’
As conclusion, Jack’s dad serves us aperitifs. We are toasted. My parents appreciate the music from their 1950s and relax with their cocktails. Mummy has decided to delay dinner until all the fractious conversation comes to a consensus.
She broaches the topic, “It’s my rule that we not go in to eat until all is copacetic. I believe Father you may have allies on your side, with Burt and Susan. I fear we may have ganged up on you last week.”
The good Father responds, “I first want to compliment the Castles on Tim’s maturity and self-confidence. He conducted an incredibly moving youth group at Church this week. You should hear his story of escaping Father Joseph’s clutches by sliding down the Church’s drain pipe. The kids loved it. It made the good father seem almost human.”
Dad came right to the point, “Why were you sliding down drain pipes?”
I’m ready to explain, but Father Frank stops me. “Much more to the point is he had the kids eating out of his hand. He introduces Jack and himself as gay boyfriends. He instantly finds out which children have a negative reaction. Then he turns their love of Jesus into an acceptance of everyone, as Jesus would. The lesson is a parable right out of the Bible’s playbook.”
“You’re comparing my son to Jesus.”
“The kids call him ‘Teen Jesus.’”
Dad turns red. “No son of mine is..”
The Father shuts him off. “Apparently, he goes to Baptist youth group, rolling around on the floor and becoming possessed of the Holy Spirit. Those children have reported seeing an apparition which they call ‘Teen Jesus’ because it looks and dresses as a teenager.”
“Dad, I’ve never called myself that. I tell everyone it isn’t me.”
Susan moves over and holds my hand. “Your dad wants you to follow what the Church says.”
“I took first communion. I have Jesus in my heart, as do all the Baptist and Catholic kids. It’s the haters who try to steal innocent hearts away, telling them to be hateful. Why do Catholics and Baptists hate each other? These are kids.”
“Your son has incredible charisma. He communicates with all these kids so directly that the whole room is infused with the Holy Spirit. I want to take him to New York and see how he does with even larger groups.”
“Tim, this is so like all your stunts. You present it as already decided and dare me to forbid you,” Dad is not happy
“Oh, dear,” Mrs. Stone worries, “can we resolve this before we eat? I feel like we’re imposing on the Castle family. We only want to compliment Tim on all the good he does and his parents for raising such a wonderful boy.”
Dad answers, “I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be discourteous. Tim and I have come to an understanding that I treat him as a responsible adult as long as he recognizes that I’m trying to instill proper values. He promised not to be manipulative in getting his own way.”
“Obviously we are stepping into personal matters that have no place at dinner.”
Isabelle comes in and announces that dinner is served.
“My dear friends,” Mrs. Stone turned to my parents, “You have welcomed my sweet boy into your home. I fear we haven’t made you feel as welcome here. Father Frank, please delay any further plans, as they concern Johnny as well, until the two families have time to come to a sensible conclusion.”
Everyone agrees. We go into the dining room. Today’s main course is roast beef with Yorkshire Pudding. My pudding looks like a roll to me, but I know to shut up.
“Tim, would you say Grace?”
I have everyone hold hands like we do with Hippie’s two moms and give the benediction. I hear Dad whispering to Father Frank that I’m turning into a regular little Baptist, at which they chuckle. Susan hushes him. I’m embarrassed he has such poor table manners. Jack is stroking my leg with his foot and Casper is playing with my ear. I’m thoroughly annoyed. I barely got through Grace. The food is excellent, though. Conversations go on around me. I miss Max.
My silence catches Mrs. Stone’s attention. “Tim, why don’t you tell everyone what is happening with the band.”
“Well, we split the band into two separate performing groups. False Gods is now the older group, with Johnny taking over my lead singing role, while I replace Jace as lead guitarist and backup vocals. Hippie improved so much on bass we haven’t needed a rhythm guitarist.”
“You have a friend named Hippie?”
“His real name is Gregory, but we started calling him Hippie Greg and now just Hippie. He’s the Baptist.”
“Well, let’s not get into that again,” Mrs. Stone remarks.
“We still have the two drummers. We fired Robby, but he’s back on probation.”
“He’s the pagan?”
“Oh, dear Father,” Mrs. Stone complains. “Politics and religion are verboten at the table.”
“The big news is we are playing our first live concert with a famous rock n roll band at the Marine Hydroplane Stadium next month. That band also has double drummers, so we’re going to have to be in top form to play with them.”
“Just like sports.”
“We plan to take Easter school break to travel to New York and play a few road houses and youth groups to make sure fans like our songs. Our manager is arranging for us to take drivers education so we all have IDs.”
“Oh, I’m not sure Johnny’s ready to drive.”
“Mummy, I need to have an ID. I promise I won’t actually drive, just enough to pass the test.”
“Mummy knows best.”
Mr. Stone speaks for the first time. “I’m quite enjoying this meal. I feel like we’re a normal family, fighting, arguing and showing our real feelings. Our regular dinners can be quite sterile, dear.”
“Can I get my license, too, Daddy?”
“Of course. You’re 16, right.
“Yes, yes. Oh Mummy, I won’t drive, I promise.”
“There. All settled,” he pronounces and turns to my dad for his turn.
Dad takes the cue, “Well, I’ve already said you can take drivers ed., so I suppose you want permission to go to New York. If there’s responsible adult supervision, I can’t stand in the way of your juggernaut music career.”
“We can drive,” the two uncles cry.
“You’re hardly responsible,” Uncle Steve says to Uncle Tam.
“You’re the responsible one. I just want to go to the road houses,” Uncle Tam responds.
“Thanks, Daddy,” I effuse. He gives me a cold stare.
Casper stops bugging me and runs around the table kissing everyone. No one noticed but my parents. Susan smiles and Dad looks flustered. Jack and I instantly realize he can feel Casper. Maybe he does have a heart.
I go back to telling about the Out-Crowd playing lots of parties for the kiddie set and Guido stealing their pay. How Michael was given a two-seater Alpha for his birthday, so he could only drive Jenna around, not the whole band. I thank Mr. Stone for rescuing our play when AP Spencer tried to shut it down.
“I thought it was his role in the play,” he protests.
“Oh, it was. He just didn’t know it.” Everyone laughs except Dad.
“The best news is my parents are finally getting married. I’ll no longer be illegitimate.”
Everyone roars as my parents beam, though Dad does give me a look.
“A June wedding?”
“Yes, but it’s my second, so we’re not making a big deal.”
Mummy stands up, “We have to have the ceremony and reception here. No question about it. Father Frank can officiate. Since it’s a second marriage, he loves to do in-home weddings, unless the Pope deigns to grant a dispensation.”
Isabelle brings in desert, English trifle. Jack has to explain what it is. I kiss him on the cheek, “Oh, my little English trifle.”
Everyone looks pleased except Dad again. Father Frank pats him on his sleeve. “You’ll get used to it. You should see what goes on in seminary.”
The meal ends in good cheer. The men go into the study. Mrs. Stone takes Susan and the gays back to the sitting room. I send Casper to spy on the men. He reports they are relaxing. Dad is recounting all my sins over the years, while Father Frank is defending me. Mr. Stone remains satisfied that good manners prove the way to get what we want. I punch Jack at that news. Everyone stops talking and stares. Jack defends me, “Oh, that’s just a love tap. I told him his dad will surrender to good manners and we will get our way.”
As everyone leaves, Jack starts to lead me upstairs to change.
“I think I’ll ride home and catch it from Dad. He’s sure to exact his price for our victory.”
Jack looks distressed, “Don’t you need moral support?”
“Better to face his anger alone, otherwise he’ll keep it bottled up. Who knows when he’ll explode.”
“I want to help you,” and he hugs me. “Will he ever accept me? I’m such a pitiful specimen compared to his real son.”
“It took him 16 years to accept me. Don’t expect miracles. Casper will stay with you so you won’t be alone.”
Casper looks up brightly.
“Just remember the sex pact,” I warn Casper.
I run out and jump into the car with my folks.
He’s complaining to Susan, “God damn Franciscans, always interfering in people’s lives. No wonder they can’t serve in parishes.”
“Calm down, Tim just got in,” Susan warns.
“Where’s your Jack-in-the-box?”
“He’ll come over later. I know we need to have this out alone. It hurt him that I don’t want him here for moral support.”
“They aren’t our people, Tim. They expect to always get their way by good manners. Did you see them take over our wedding.’
“I think it’s sweet, dear. I can’t imagine getting married in such splendor. We’ll pay the expenses, if that bothers you.”
“They must think we’re charity cases.”
“They’re genuine in their ways.”
“Well, they’ve certainly adopted you. Dressing you up like a little monkey to sing and dance for your supper.”
“Burt,” Susan interjects. “You’re being unkind. They treat Tim like their own.”
“Remember back in Alaska,” I assert. “All the families treated me like one of their own. They were all military, like us,” I wonder if he even knew.
“That’s the military way. It’s different. These people use money to get what they want.”
“But all they want is for Jack, and now for me, to be good and happy.”
“Well, being goodie 2 shoes is certainly paying off for you.”
I hug him from behind. He does a Hippie and drives off the road. Luckily there are no curbs in the Gables.
Susan and I giggle.
“I love you, Dad. I’m learning to appreciate your curmudgeonly ways.”
Susan laughs, “Me, too.” And she kisses him.
He glares at me to make sure I’m not about to kiss him as well. Such a happy family.
“I worry about you, boy. And stop the Teen Jesus business.”
I call Jack to say the coast is clear. Isabelle tells me he left on his bike, saying he was going to the Watt’s. I jump on mine, thinking how next year, I might be driving a car. Then I kiss my old bike. So many adventures and good/bad times together. I get there before Jack. I am instantly jealous, imagining Casper raping a willing Jack under some tree. Scott answers the door, surprised to see me.
“You here for Stu?”
“No. Coach Earl sent me. He chewed me out, even though I no longer pay dues. He says I’ve ruined your swimming career.”
“Really?” I’d forgotten how gullible he is.
“No, but Coach Earl says you’re having an off-year. Wanna go swim in the bay and tempt fate again?”
He smiles at me for the first time in 9 months, then pulls me into a hug.
“I miss you.”
Then we are supposed to cry, but instead we laugh and start wrestling on the front lawn. Of course, Jack and Casper ride up just in time to see us fagging off.
“You boys made up?” Jack nervously asks.
“He admits I’m the best coach he’s ever had. I told him to get his ass in gear or he’ll be an ex-All-American this year.”
Scott punches me. Jack punches me. Casper punches me. Stu, Mike Jr. and John run out. We were all rolling around on the grass. Mr. Watt comes out and turns the hose on us. We all run into the house, dripping all over Mrs. Watt’s floors.
“What’s this all about?” she complains.
“Sleepover,” we announce, even though it’s Sunday night.
“Against my better judgment,” she accedes.
“Thanks, Mom,” we all yell.
Even Scott piles into Stu’s room, who sits on his bed like a king overseeing his court. Mrs. Watt breaks up that hen-house. Scott asks Jack and me to stay in his room. Casper wants to be with John. When he realizes Scott and I are going to tell Jack all the exploits we’ve had, he sits on Scott’s bed with us.
I sniff a couple of times, “Do I smell pussy in this bed.” I tease.
“Long gone, Romeo. You missed your chance.”
Jack looks pained.
“Jack’s worried I’m not gay enough for him, that I’ll throw him over for some fish smelling cunt.”
“Oh, he’s gay enough. My butt is still proof.” Scott responds.
“I know about that,” Jack grins. “But what about Tina?”
“Oh, the ever-missing New York girlfriend. She shows up in July for a week. He’s bewitched by the perpetual virgin.”
“We’re going to New York so I can meet her.”
“Whoa. You must really be worried to do that.”
I explain, “He got so sad when we were riding and you told him I had screwed girls with you.”
“I saw that, but we always did it together. It never stopped us from fucking each other, especially right after fucking the Lee sisters in North Carolina. We needed to feel clean again.”
Scott is really getting into it. Jack moves into my arms for security and comfort. Casper holds his hand. Scott describes all our exploits. I fill them in on how Joey got me to bang girls in New England and New York, so I would not think he turned me gay. I tell Scott and everyone about my trip to Hollywood. I never had the chance to tell him, as that was the weekend he and Lydia were caught. Scott admits he used Lydia. They were really in love until she broke up with him. I tell how I passed notes back and forth while they were grounded. Scott tells about when her brother tried to keep them apart and that we stood up to the brother.
“Why does he fight so much?” Jack asks.
“We had fights when we were hating each other, but swimmers are lame and can’t hurt each other,” I answer.
“I saw him almost kill this guy who wanted to rape me. Tim rushed into the room and kept beating on him after he went down. Then he knocked Robby out with one blow when Robby made a crack about Casp.., er, Jace’s mom. Last week he knocked a redneck down with his guitar and held him with a foot to the neck until the police got there.”
“He’s definitely hot-blooded. It can work in the sack. Just keep him there. That’s where I screwed up.”
“So now you think you’re gay after all?” I tease him.
“I definitely lusted for you, but I guess it’s mostly girls for me.”
“The exception proves the rule,” Jack hopes.
“Maybe saving your life gave me an edge.”
“Yeah, I couldn’t stand being away from him for days. I even dragged him on vacation. Now my family treats him like a lost son. And I’m the prodigal one.”
“Let’s test it,” Jack wants to remove all doubt. “You’ve kissed him, a lot it sounds like. So sitting here with me, kiss him, Scott, so I can tell if you’re turned on.”
“These are the games girls play.” Scott demurs. “You’re torturing yourself, Jack. We’re over. The only thing that’s changed now is I’m not ashamed to admit we loved each other. I was an asshole and lost him. He moved on and now moved on again. He’s so hot-blooded. He’ll burn you up.”
“That’s what Coach said last week.”
“Why did he comment on my crappy swim year.”
“He saw you were with us and asked if we were friends again. He doesn’t miss much. They blame me for pushing you so hard at State that you can’t repeat it.”
“You scared the crap out of me. I was on pure adrenaline when I won that race. You gonna come back and count for me again?”
”Sure, but you know you have it in you to do it yourself.”
“I can’t find that groove, as they say.”
“Don’t tell Coach I have anything to do with it, but you need to swim with the college team now. You’re an All-American. Commit to Miami for college. He’ll kick your butt to get you to repeat it.”
“You’re right. I just mope all the time at practice. Last year was so much fun. Now I hate it.”
“Talk to Wilkie. He’s really a great guy. He’ll tell Coach. Diaz thinks I ruined you, so he’s given up on you. Challenge Coach to believe in you again.”
He hugs me again. Jack watches for any rise from my jeans. Then he snaps my briefs and gets a real reaction.
“When did you start wearing colored underwear?” Scott observes my latest style.
“We make $100 a day selling and signing underwear for pre-teen girls in the Grove.”
“Little girls wear boys underwear now?”
“No, they make their 12-year-old boyfriends wear them so they can pretend they’re like us.”
“You guys are sick.”
Casper loses interest and floats to Stu’s room to cuddle with John who is already asleep. John shifts in his sleep to make Casper comfortable.
Scott says we can all share his bed, instead of the floor. Jack insists he sleep between us.
“I’m taking no chances,” he announces.
Later after we’ve been asleep, I see that Scott had moved over and has a big hard-on nestled against Jack’s butt. I’m glad it’s Jack he’s molesting, who remains totally oblivious.
Next morning, we have breakfast with the Watt’s zoo. Scott in his dorky way convinces me that his amorous moves toward my boyfriend were entirely innocent. I am pleased to see John smiling some. I wink at Casper, the culprit. Coach Earl warned me that as soon as John feels comfortable enough to talk about his abuse, he will probably relapse from dragging up the bad memories. At least, he is finding real love in his new family. Maybe his guitar playing is another way to release the emotions. He sounds better and better. Casper helps there, too. It makes me love Casper as much as I love Jace’s memory.
In English, Mr. Clark receives a standing ovation for our play’s success. Robby jumps up to kiss him again, but we all throw paper and pens at him to defend poor Mr. Clark, who seems conflicted over it all. Topics for the year’s final performance are discussed, but I’m barely listening. Plans for the orgy cross my mind, but I think we need to do more for Casper’s 16th birthday. The original idea was to find his crack-head mom. Now that idea has exploded into a tour of hillbilly road houses and a performance at St Patrick’s Cathedral in NYC. We still have the video of Jace’s Tribute to record. The gay uncles seem willing to drive us on our road trip. We need to make Jace’s birthday the kickoff of False Gods’ Spring Tour.
“What are you smiling about, Mr. Castle,” Mr. Clark asks.
“It’s Jace’s birthday on Wednesday. Our guitarist who died. I realize that he’s the one we have to concentrate on to get everything done before our Skynyrd concert.”
“Anything we can do to help?”
“Want to plan an orgy?” I ask.
The class roars “Yes.” His deer-caught-in-the-headlights look returns.
During Nutrition I call Mike Sr. to tell him what transpired over the weekend. He puts me on with Jay, the assistant.
“Cancel the van and tell Guido’s brother to stuff it,” I tell him. “We have two adult chaperons. More importantly, book the video recording studio for Wednesday, so we can record the Jace Tribute. And get us those drivers ed. IDs as soon as possible. Tell Mike Sr. that we’re booked to play St Patrick’s at Easter in New York City. And call that booking agent in Memphis and tell him to book us up the coast at real Southern road houses. False Gods is going on tour. We need rooms at the Chelsea Hotel for Easter weekend, and maybe we can find a show for Good Friday in the Bowery. After Easter, we‘re doing the real tour, comin’ home. Sweet Home Alabama.”
“Sounds like you’re already lost.” And he hangs up
I get pulled out of Biology for a call in the office. Mike Sr. calls to confirm we’re set to record on Wednesday. He has a big time New York Director coming down and needs a firm date from us.
“Have your assistant book the studio. We’ll be there all day and night. I think I’m going to be sick and miss school that day. Who’s the director?”
“A guy from NYU, Martin Scorsese.”
“Sounds Italian, to me.”
“You’re damn right,” And we laugh.
I ditch the rest of the day, pulling Jack out as well. We climb into Robby’s window. Even Hippie’s there. We roll on Robby and start beating him up. Everyone goes to their respective corners to watch. The faux fight goes on long enough for Jack and me to get hard. Finally I hold Robby down as Jack pulls out his semi-boner and waves it in Robby’s face, “You want some of this asshole. Bend over.”
Ricky knows well enough now to play along. I roll him over and he sticks his butt into the air. I fake getting jealous, grab Jack, throw us both out the window, hoist him over my shoulder, and run home. We wait by our window for the whole gang to sneak through the trees so they can watch our show again. As Dave and Jazz stick their heads out of the leaves, we snatch them and drag them into our room, locking the window behind us. We all sit bouncing on the bed and get them to make all kinds of sex noises and scream that they are being raped. The others are banging on the window and yelling to get the police. Dad comes out with the hose and sprays the ones on the roof at our window, until they run away.
What to do with our new co-conspirators? First things first, I pull out a joint and we got wasted from Grant’s Ganja. Unlike the Colombian, it hits you hard right away. Naturally it also makes Jack horny. Soon he’s rubbing his hard dick up and down my back as we sit on the bed.
“What are you going to do with us?” the boys stammer.
“Make you watch us have sex.”
““Ew”, they scream and ran down the stairs where the door is unlocked. We run after them waving our dicks at their disappearing shadows. We stop before we reach the front yard, realizing that we’re buck-ass naked. Teen Jesus Rampage.
I call Robby and tell him to have everyone ditch on Wednesday. It’s Jace’s 16th. We booked a studio to celebrate.
At rehearsal we go over all the songs we plan to record, mostly Pink Floyd and the Velvet Underground. Robby pulls out the new Pink Floyd album. We light up and play it through. The title song is ‘Wish You Were Here:’
It really gets to me. I know it will be the song to finish the tribute, after ‘Dark Side of the Moon’ / ‘Brain Damage.’
The Jacettes are happy to do songs with prominent backup vocals. We recruit Iggy to do all the Syd Barrett insane vocals, laughs and evil grunts. We will do the Beatles’ songs to go with the exit footage. For the dance footage of the kids, it has to be 50’s/60’s pop songs.
After agreement is reached, I pull Dave and Jazz aside, “Wanna make some money?”
“We ain’t watchin’ you guys get it on.”
“No, I’m talking about you working at Out & Proud while we’re on Easter Break.”
“Yeah, pretending we’re gay so we can get raped.”
“It’s a hundred bucks a day.”
“I ain’t selling my ass for a hundred bucks.”
“Shut up, stupid. We sell gay underwear to 12-year-old girls. All you have to do is flash your briefs. They’ll run and buy the same ones for their little boyfriends.”
“Who wants our nasty holey old briefs?”
“Felix gets you to model the ones they sell there.”
“That’s totally gay.”
“Okay, I’ll just ask Stu and Mike Jr.”
“No way, we’ll do it, just for the money.”
“You can play your songs and get more fans for the Out-Crowd.”
They are reluctant, but the power of money and some perverted need for exhibitionism gets them to go along.