Aykroyd Tim Robbins brought the weed. We drove to the lake, got drunk and stoned, sat in the trees, threw rocks into the water, and did nothing. They, of course, knew each other better than they knew me, though I’d become a good friend recently.
Chevy’d pick me up and always had beers for the drive and then we’d get Dan Tim. Dan Tim would roll a bomber one-handed and we’d smoke it in the car on the way to the lake. We found a service shack and stored more beer in there.
They’d jab at each other a little. Chevy would make fun of the time Dan Tim was married to Farrah Fawcett. Or maybe it was Dan Tim making fun of Chevy. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t serious. No coins were blasted here.
During the cocaine era, Edwin used to call himself "L.T." for "Lubjec Thoth" but also in homage to his favorite cocaine-snorting linebacker. Briefly L.T. was big in celebrity circles and was even Bill Murray’s ex-roommate. L.T. and I were living and working in an enormous space inside a mall. The space was filled with what we thought was a mall. The space was filled with what we thought was a Flavors shop, and our selection was only slightly more extensive. Mostly we sold bestsellers on discount.
We needed the rest of the space for our elaborate living quarters, with its wine cellar and separate suites. We had a large communal living room across a small false hall from the store’s false back door. Here we’d relax and entertain while one of us minded the shop.
L.T. was a tall, balding classical guitarist with great talent but an insufficient sense of vocation to go anywhere with his music. His gawky awkwardness gave him a fragility on stage that would have translated into great success had he used it. Women saw this in him and surrounded him eagerly, hoping to be the ones to loose his potential. None of them did, and he never to my knowledge took unfair advantage of their enamorations.
The store was ostensibly owned by St. Izzy’s High School, but was ignored by it for the most part, except when semesters were beginning. A trade bookstore in a mall receives substantially higher discounts on books than a text bookstore does, so the school was able to profit sufficiently from the discount difference.
That all these women would come in to see L.T. and he wouldn’t do anything about it would bother me. The prettiest of them, Angie, was always hanging around. I liked Angie, but her sister was more interesting. Whereas Angie was perfect in every regard except she was somewhat shortchanged in the thinking department, Amelia was funny-looking, with a big nose, goofy hair, and Mick Jagger lips, but she was smart. She read William Gass and could hold conversations about real writers.
Unfortunately, Amelia was dating a low-life named Vlad, whose greatest ambition was to take apart a carburetor and reassemble it, and who treated Amelia terribly. But he took her attentions, and I was left pretty much unnoticed. Which meant I stayed at the register more than L.T.
Well, one day, while L.T. was in back with Angie, probably just talking, the fool, Duggan came in the store, right when it was really busy and I had a long line. Duggan was a bad boy legend from St. Izzy’s. As a senior he had set off a pipe bomb in a bathroom and had blown off half of the face of some freshman. But Duggan’s dad was a congressman, so nothing ever happened to Duggan.
It’d always been my instinct to hate him. This time, he picked up seven or so books, piled them on the counter and said to me he had a faculty discount. I almost choked. I knew there was no way in Christendom that the school had hired him as a teacher. I couldn’t imagine Duggan ever even finishing high school.
"No," I said to him, staring him in the eye. "You’re not on faculty."
He was about to argue, but the line of customers was so long I took the next one over him and rang her up. Duggan picked up his books and backed away to make room for her.
Two customers later, I realized Duggan and the
Chevy’d pick me up and always had beers for the drive and then we’d get Dan Tim. Dan Tim would roll a bomber one-handed and we’d smoke it in the car on the way to the lake. We found a service shack and stored more beer in there.
They’d jab at each other a little. Chevy would make fun of the time Dan Tim was married to Farrah Fawcett. Or maybe it was Dan Tim making fun of Chevy. It didn’t matter. It wasn’t serious. No coins were blasted here.
During the cocaine era, Edwin used to call himself "L.T." for "Lubjec Thoth" but also in homage to his favorite cocaine-snorting linebacker. Briefly L.T. was big in celebrity circles and was even Bill Murray’s ex-roommate. L.T. and I were living and working in an enormous space inside a mall. The space was filled with what we thought was a mall. The space was filled with what we thought was a Flavors shop, and our selection was only slightly more extensive. Mostly we sold bestsellers on discount.
We needed the rest of the space for our elaborate living quarters, with its wine cellar and separate suites. We had a large communal living room across a small false hall from the store’s false back door. Here we’d relax and entertain while one of us minded the shop.
L.T. was a tall, balding classical guitarist with great talent but an insufficient sense of vocation to go anywhere with his music. His gawky awkwardness gave him a fragility on stage that would have translated into great success had he used it. Women saw this in him and surrounded him eagerly, hoping to be the ones to loose his potential. None of them did, and he never to my knowledge took unfair advantage of their enamorations.
The store was ostensibly owned by St. Izzy’s High School, but was ignored by it for the most part, except when semesters were beginning. A trade bookstore in a mall receives substantially higher discounts on books than a text bookstore does, so the school was able to profit sufficiently from the discount difference.
That all these women would come in to see L.T. and he wouldn’t do anything about it would bother me. The prettiest of them, Angie, was always hanging around. I liked Angie, but her sister was more interesting. Whereas Angie was perfect in every regard except she was somewhat shortchanged in the thinking department, Amelia was funny-looking, with a big nose, goofy hair, and Mick Jagger lips, but she was smart. She read William Gass and could hold conversations about real writers.
Unfortunately, Amelia was dating a low-life named Vlad, whose greatest ambition was to take apart a carburetor and reassemble it, and who treated Amelia terribly. But he took her attentions, and I was left pretty much unnoticed. Which meant I stayed at the register more than L.T.
Well, one day, while L.T. was in back with Angie, probably just talking, the fool, Duggan came in the store, right when it was really busy and I had a long line. Duggan was a bad boy legend from St. Izzy’s. As a senior he had set off a pipe bomb in a bathroom and had blown off half of the face of some freshman. But Duggan’s dad was a congressman, so nothing ever happened to Duggan.
It’d always been my instinct to hate him. This time, he picked up seven or so books, piled them on the counter and said to me he had a faculty discount. I almost choked. I knew there was no way in Christendom that the school had hired him as a teacher. I couldn’t imagine Duggan ever even finishing high school.
"No," I said to him, staring him in the eye. "You’re not on faculty."
He was about to argue, but the line of customers was so long I took the next one over him and rang her up. Duggan picked up his books and backed away to make room for her.
Two customers later, I realized Duggan and the
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