to each other, and Amalia and I sat across from them.
I tried not to look at Sunny. Instead, I looked around the room, mentally
rating people’s outfits. No one rated lower than “extremely cool,” except possibly
me.
Ten minutes went by, and Rick and a girl with a shaved head materialized
next to us.
“How are the drinks holding up?” asked Rick. The girl loped her arm
through his. Possessively, I thought.
“Oh, just fine,” I said quickly. “No problem.”
But Sunny’s glass was empty except for the ice. “All gone!” she said,
holding it up. She smiled.
Rick smiled back at her. “What’ll it be, then?”
“Mm, how about a tequila sunrise this time?” Sunny paused, then she
said, “No wait. Hold the sunrise.”
“A shot of tequila?” said Rick, and he arched an eyebrow ever so slightly.
“Perfect,” said Sunny.
“Duck Man?” asked Rick. “Are you relazed yet?”
Ducky’s glass wasn’t even empty, but he said, “I’ll have a shot too. Just
one, though.”
“How restrained of you,” I muttered. I couldn’t stop thinking of the bad time
Ducky was going through. I also couldn’t stop thinking that he was our driver. And
he had just made a mil ion promises to my father.
“Ducky?” I said, leaning across the table.
“Yeah?” Ducky leaned across the table too, and our heads met in the
middle. Then Amalia and Sunny leaned in to hear what was going on.
“Nothing,” I replied.
Even later Saturday afternoon 3/6
The shots of tequila arrived, and Ducky and Sunny knocked them back. I
have to admit that I didn’t know that was what you do with a shot-drink it down in
one gulp. IN ONE GULP. I have tasted strong liquor (like tequila) and it’s hard
enough to sip that stuff. I mean, it’s so…so alcoholic. It burns your throat and
makes your eyes water. How can people chug back a whole big slurp at once?
But that’s what Sunny and Ducky did with their shots.
I watched them. I waited for their heads to become disconnected from
their necks or something. But nothing much happened. Even so, I felt compelled
to try to say something to Ducky again. I waited until Sunny had turned around
and was talking to someone she knew from school, and Amalia was watching the
warm-up act set up their equipment. Then I said, “Ducky?”
He leaned forward again. “Yeah?”
“You promised my dad you’d be a safe driver.”
“I know.”
“But you’re drinking.”
Ducky looked at his watch. “This’ll be totally out of my system by the time
the concert’s over. Trust me.”
“Okay.”
The truth was that Ducky sounded fine. And he looked fine. So did Sunny.
I sat back and decided not to let any of this ruin my evening with Pierre.
Ten minutes later the warm0up act finally began. It was this group of three
guys and a girl wearing more ripped clothing than I have ever seen in my life. It
was SO ripped that if you’d put it al together it would have made, like, one T-shirt
and one pair of jeans.
They sang really loudly and the whole time they sang they jumped up and
down. Not bouncing a little in time to the beat but actually jumping, like in gym
class. How could they do that and play the instruments at the same time? I
looked at Amalia and could see she was trying to figure this out too.
The noise level in the room was rising. The band was growing louder, but
not many people were listening to them. They were still trying to talk to each
other, so now they were shouting.
Rick returned and brought Sunny and Ducky each another shot of tequila.
Ducky looked plenty relazed to me.
After about 45 minutes the group (whose name I still don’t know) played
their final group jump, and one of the guys threw his tambourine to the floor.
Then he picked it up and threw it out into the audience. The girl who caught it
waved it around over her head, but the room was so deafeningly noisy that you
couldn’t hear it at all.
The lights came up and a flurry of activity
I tried not to look at Sunny. Instead, I looked around the room, mentally
rating people’s outfits. No one rated lower than “extremely cool,” except possibly
me.
Ten minutes went by, and Rick and a girl with a shaved head materialized
next to us.
“How are the drinks holding up?” asked Rick. The girl loped her arm
through his. Possessively, I thought.
“Oh, just fine,” I said quickly. “No problem.”
But Sunny’s glass was empty except for the ice. “All gone!” she said,
holding it up. She smiled.
Rick smiled back at her. “What’ll it be, then?”
“Mm, how about a tequila sunrise this time?” Sunny paused, then she
said, “No wait. Hold the sunrise.”
“A shot of tequila?” said Rick, and he arched an eyebrow ever so slightly.
“Perfect,” said Sunny.
“Duck Man?” asked Rick. “Are you relazed yet?”
Ducky’s glass wasn’t even empty, but he said, “I’ll have a shot too. Just
one, though.”
“How restrained of you,” I muttered. I couldn’t stop thinking of the bad time
Ducky was going through. I also couldn’t stop thinking that he was our driver. And
he had just made a mil ion promises to my father.
“Ducky?” I said, leaning across the table.
“Yeah?” Ducky leaned across the table too, and our heads met in the
middle. Then Amalia and Sunny leaned in to hear what was going on.
“Nothing,” I replied.
Even later Saturday afternoon 3/6
The shots of tequila arrived, and Ducky and Sunny knocked them back. I
have to admit that I didn’t know that was what you do with a shot-drink it down in
one gulp. IN ONE GULP. I have tasted strong liquor (like tequila) and it’s hard
enough to sip that stuff. I mean, it’s so…so alcoholic. It burns your throat and
makes your eyes water. How can people chug back a whole big slurp at once?
But that’s what Sunny and Ducky did with their shots.
I watched them. I waited for their heads to become disconnected from
their necks or something. But nothing much happened. Even so, I felt compelled
to try to say something to Ducky again. I waited until Sunny had turned around
and was talking to someone she knew from school, and Amalia was watching the
warm-up act set up their equipment. Then I said, “Ducky?”
He leaned forward again. “Yeah?”
“You promised my dad you’d be a safe driver.”
“I know.”
“But you’re drinking.”
Ducky looked at his watch. “This’ll be totally out of my system by the time
the concert’s over. Trust me.”
“Okay.”
The truth was that Ducky sounded fine. And he looked fine. So did Sunny.
I sat back and decided not to let any of this ruin my evening with Pierre.
Ten minutes later the warm0up act finally began. It was this group of three
guys and a girl wearing more ripped clothing than I have ever seen in my life. It
was SO ripped that if you’d put it al together it would have made, like, one T-shirt
and one pair of jeans.
They sang really loudly and the whole time they sang they jumped up and
down. Not bouncing a little in time to the beat but actually jumping, like in gym
class. How could they do that and play the instruments at the same time? I
looked at Amalia and could see she was trying to figure this out too.
The noise level in the room was rising. The band was growing louder, but
not many people were listening to them. They were still trying to talk to each
other, so now they were shouting.
Rick returned and brought Sunny and Ducky each another shot of tequila.
Ducky looked plenty relazed to me.
After about 45 minutes the group (whose name I still don’t know) played
their final group jump, and one of the guys threw his tambourine to the floor.
Then he picked it up and threw it out into the audience. The girl who caught it
waved it around over her head, but the room was so deafeningly noisy that you
couldn’t hear it at all.
The lights came up and a flurry of activity
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