STARLIGHTER

  And, man! ... I felt lousy about it!  I would’ve felt better, maybe, if he hauled off and bopped me one or acted shrill and crazy with anger.  But this ‘suffering-in-silence’ bit made me feel like a puddle of piss.  I was bilge, utter bilge!  What kind of guy, after all, hoses his best buddy’s skunk behind his back?  The answer didn’t do much for my precious self-esteem.

  The same train of thought - or close to it - was racing through Sasha’s mind, too.  She was at the kitchen table rapping with Patricia Street ... but every few seconds her eyes strayed over to Joey and a flicker of trepidation showed.  At one point she looked at me, nodded and smiled ... but it was mostly for show.  Sasha was putting on a brave front primarily for MY benefit.

  I took my beer and sauntered over in Joey’s direction.  I felt Sasha’s eyes following me.  I didn’t exactly know what the fuck I was doing - I was drunk - but my instincts compelled me to go shoot the shit with the guy, have a normal conversation, lighten leaden atmosphere.  I wanted Joey to know that everything was okay, that Danny Callahan WASN’T a prick. I don’t know why, but it seemed important that the dude DIDN’T hate me.

  “Hey, Joe.” I made my voice matter-of-fact.

  He briefly looked up. I couldn’t see his eyes through the reflection of fire in his ‘cheaters’, “D.C.” Equally matter of fact.

  “Changing the strings, huh?”

  “Uh huh,” he grunted. At that point he was wrestling with a ‘C’ string.

  “So how did practice go?”

  “Metz-a-metz,” he shrugged.  No eye contact.  Ice cold.

  “Big Starlighter gig, huh?” I contrived a smile.

  “Big Starlighter gig ... yeah.”

  The boy was not in a talkative mood.  I slunk away, feeling low down.  I looked at Sasha who smiled at me.  But there was no joy in her smile ... it was flat and one dimensional.

  Bad vibes were suddenly as thick as a brick.