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smackenzieActually, the first thing Laurie did on Monday morning, after he turned the coffee pot on, was to go jerk off in the shower. He woke up a little tense and figured it would relax him. He thought about Parrish's mouth and Parrish's hands and Parrish's voice and how easily Parrish made him come, and he let out an intensely satisfied groan as he shot onto the tiles. It did make him feel a little bit better.
So he was slightly relaxed and decently awake by the time Lea came to get him, and by the time they got to Pryor Brothers funeral home Laurie actually felt like himself again. He'd pay his respects to Bader and Mrs Glassman, he'd say hi to whoever he knew who was there, he'd go to the cemetery and pay his final respects to Gunther, and later tonight he'd rock hard for the boys and girls at Underworld.
Laurie hadn't been inside too many funeral homes in his life - only one, when his grandmother died - but he guessed Pryor Brothers was one of the nicer ones. It was very calm and soothing, with wood-paneled walls and dark red oriental rugs and the occasional potted plant. It was almost like being in someone's house, except for the closed coffin laid out in one room and the rows of chairs facing it. That was a little weird. A guy in a dark blue suit who Laurie didn't know was walking around being relatively unobtrusive but still kind of professional and efficient, which made Laurie think he was one of the funeral directors. When Laurie and Lea came in, the guy was talking to someone Laurie figured was Gunther's mom, and so Laurie and Lea were first approached by someone who looked a lot like Gunther, except alive, and wearing a charcoal suit and Mondrian-patterned tie.
"Bader?" Laurie said. The guy nodded.
"You're Laurie," he said. "We've met, you probably don't remember." Laurie thought. It seemed rude to admit that he didn't remember, but he really didn't. It must have shown on his face, because Bader continued "It was a couple years ago, don't worry about it. Thanks for coming." This last was directed at Lea, who took his hand and said she was really sorry.
"I really liked Gunther," she said. "I'll really miss him."
"I think a lot of people will. There are a lot of people here." Bader sounded almost surprised. Laurie wanted to tell him not to be - Gunther had a lot of friends and had worked with a lot of people who respected him. He was always professional and prepared and he loved what he did, and it was no surprise that so many people would turn out to say goodbye to him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go rescue my mom. There's coffee and pastries in that room, and the coffin is in there, if you want to... well, whatever." He shook both their hands again and hustled off.
"We should go sign the book," Lea whispered.
"What book?" Laurie whispered back. Whispering seemed appropriate.
"There's usually a guest book. It might be in with the... coffin. Come on."
Laurie let Lea guide him into the room with Gunther's coffin, which was made of shiny dark-red wood and sat on a kind of table at one end of the room. There were bunches of flowers sitting on the table around it, and rows of chairs facing it. About half the chairs were filled, and the room was very, very quiet. Laurie recognized the side of Mission's head a few rows in front of them, and took Lea's hand and pulled her down the aisle to sit behind the drummer.
"Hey," Laurie whispered, leaning forward and putting his hand on Mission's shoulder.
"Hey," Mission whispered back. "Bader got him a nice coffin."
"Bader said there were a lot of people here," Lea said. "Where is everyone?"
"In the other room, probably, eating and drinking and talking." Someone sitting a few rows in front of Mission turned and glared at them. It looked a lot like Jumper Bradley, the lead singer of WD-40, a local thrash punk outfit. Laurie hadn't thought Gunther had ever worked with them.
Sorry, Laurie mouthed at the guy, who shrugged and turned back to face the coffin. "Maybe we should go in there too," he suggested to Lea and Mission.
"I'm going to stay here a little longer," Mission said. "But you guys go. Look for Bran - he said he'd be here."
"I'm going to sit a little bit too," Lea said. She took Laurie's hand. "Are you wigged?"
"A little," he admitted.
He was starting to get... not nervous, and not tense exactly, but something. This whole thing was strange and he felt a little out of his element. What did he know about death? The only ways he knew how to show his respect were either musically or sexually. Now, if Gunther was alive, Laurie could drag him into the bathroom and go down on him, or they could go back to someone's apartment and fuck like bunnies. They could write new songs, or rewrite old ones, or play ones that had already been written. But Laurie didn't really know how to feel here, and while he was pretty sure how he should be acting, he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable. He kind of wanted to go home. But he couldn't.
He got up and went back out into the hallway and then into the reception room, where there were people he knew standing around drinking coffee and eating cheese danish and talking about Gunther or life in general or just local music gossip. Laurie was a little more at home here, and he could relax a little more.
At ten-thirty Bader started collecting people so they could move on to the cemetery, and by ten-forty-five they were on their way. Lea ended up with Jumper from WD-40 in her back seat, because he'd taken the bus out to the funeral home, and Laurie apologized for being loud in the viewing room. Jumper said it was no big deal. Otherwise they were all quiet the whole way to the cemetery, and when everyone had gathered in the right spot for the ceremony, Laurie looked around and realized that Bader had been right - there were a lot of people there.
It was something like a mini Who's Who of the local music scene. Nico Parris was there, of course, with Les Montgomery, the drummer for Book of Fish, but he seemed oddly subdued in his black suit. Laurie remembered that he and Gunther had had a brief relationship - Nico was never one to keep his love affairs quiet - and hoped Nico had been tested for his own sake. All seven members of And We Danced showed up, understandably because Gunther had laid down basic drum tracks for all of the songs on their debut CD, and they'd asked him more than once to play live with them, to fill out their sound. They looked not much different than they did on stage - black suits, white shirts, black ties - except for St Michel Duffy, the drummer, who had a Hawaiian shirt on under his long raincoat. He explained it by saying that death was just another step on a person's journey through the world, and they should be celebrating Gunther's life, not mourning his death. It made sense to Laurie and he agreed when St Michel told him, although a few people had a few words with him and he buttoned up his coat in an effort to hide the brilliant colors and apparently inappropriate sunniness. Coleman ("Just Coleman"), the bass player for Fifteen-Cent Solution, showed up with his left arm in a sling, which explained why they'd had to bow out of the show that night. He apologized to Laurie for the last-minute emergency. Laurie said it was ok.
Both Harrison brothers from The Triumphant Return of Tom Brady were there, as well as Ivan, formerly of the Divine, and his pale, fragile-looking girlfriend, who hung off his arm and sniffled into a hanky for the entire service. The drummer for Mintyfish came with a woman who turned out to be his wife and another girl who turned out to be his wife's sister and the singer in the late, lamented Pear and the Pomegranate, Bran and Mission's first band. Marcella and Vasily, the only remaining members of the original Divine, showed up while Bader Glassman was thanking everyone for coming, both of them somber and serious and a little overdramatic in Victorian-goth black. Marcella always knew how to make an entrance, even at someone else's funeral.
There were a few promoters and studio techs, a couple of guys from the music school, and three people Gunther had known in Toronto - a pale skinny boy with dark hair and glasses who was introduced as Nic, Gunther's boyfriend, and two other guys, Ian and Douglas, who said they were there to represent the rest of the musicians Gunther had been working with. Douglas had curly red-blond hair and looked really familiar to Laurie, but they'd obviously never met before.
There were some chair set out but there were so many people almost everyone had to stand. Bader said a few words, didn't stop even when Marcella and Vasily showed up and interrupted him by trying to push through to the front of the crowd. Bader didn't even bother to acknowledge them, and Laurie could guess that pissed Marcella off. But hey, it wasn't her funeral.
Mrs Glassman also thanked everyone for coming, she hadn't realized her boy had so many friends and she was grateful. Laurie got the impression she might have wanted to say something else, something along the lines of "Where were you when he killed himself?" but maybe he was just projecting. He didn't necessarily think he'd been a bad friend, but he was starting to think someone had been asleep at the wheel. How could you not know your friend or, more importantly, your lover was thinking of killing himself? How did that slip past someone's radar? Nic, the Canadian boyfriend, was just as distraught as anyone else, if not more so, and seemed just as shell-shocked and even a little guilty. Laurie figured he could go easier on the boy, even if he kept it all in his head.
And then Bader was beckoning to him and it was his turn and this seemed to be the least rehearsed part of the whole morning, because it really was. Laurie was prepared in that he knew the song he was supposed to play, but he wasn't really as mentally prepared as he thought. Although he could look at it as a performance like any other - more or less - and an audience that had gotten in free but still deserved the best performance he could give.
Lea squeezed his hand as he made his way to the freshly-dug hole and the coffin of Gunther Glassman, and he tuned Bran's guitar (and somewhere in the crowd he knew Bran was wincing), and he took a breath, and he played a little introduction, and he began to sing.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you....
Now that was just wrong, Laurie thought. Music was Gunther's life, not just what he did but what he was. He was like a lot of local musicians that way. He was like Laurie that way.
Well it goes like this - the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah....
A little breeze kicked up, rustling leaves and skirts and the hems of coats. Except for Laurie's cigarette-smoke rasp and the purer notes of the guitar, it was eerily quiet. It felt like a movie to Laurie, like someone had arranged the weather and the ambient noise and had made sure Gunther got a picture-perfect, idealized send-off.
Baby, I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you....
Was he singing to Gunther now, or for him?
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
By now it was clear to everyone, including Laurie, that he wasn't singing for the gathered mourners - he was singing to Gunther, and maybe to himself, and maybe to all the other kind, talented, cute boys he'd known and slept with and lost over the years. Maybe that had been Gunther's idea all along, because he would have known that Laurie could judge his audience and adjust his performance accordingly, but for such a personal, private thing as this, he could just as easily lose himself in the music and forget he even had an audience of living, breathing human beings. And Laurie for his part wasn't much for the mystical shit - he didn't believe in ghosts or any of that stuff and he wouldn't come back to the cemetery to talk to Gunther's grave thinking the boy could hear him up in Heaven - but this was what Gunther wanted. A last, private concert from one of the boys he'd loved, a song he held dear played by someone he'd always remembered.
Laurie knew people would whisper about this later, were probably already whispering about it now, wondering why him, why this song, why now? He and Gunther hadn't been a couple (as much as they were ever a couple) in two years, and sure, they saw each other and hung out occasionally and once when Mission came down sick with food poisoning Gunther had filled in at a gig at the eleventh hour, but then what about the musicians he'd been working with in Toronto? What about his boyfriend? His brother, even, since it was pretty well-known that Bader had a beautiful voice and had performed in musical theater in college and just after. Why Laurie? Laurie himself couldn't guess.
All he knew was that this must have been what Gunther had in mind - a gathering of friends and lovers and former lovers, colleagues and coworkers and people who cared about him, and a song he'd loved to cement their memories of him, and to send him off to the next stage.
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
Laurie couldn't remember any particularly incandescent nights with Gunther, but he did remember that the boy was a generous lover, fun and willing and sexy and just kinky enough. And cute, so cute.
Maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah....
Someone was sniffling. More than one someone. Damn. Laurie had made people cry. He normally didn't think he should be proud of that, and this was a funeral, it wouldn't take much to bring people to tears. He was obscurely proud of himelf for getting through the words without fucking up too badly.
He let the music trail off and finally came to the end of the song. That seemed to be the end, because Bader didn't seem inclined to say anything other than "Thank you," to Laurie, and "I know Gunther would've been pleased." Laurie moved away from the side of the grave and put his hand on top of the coffin, just for a second, and mentally wished Gunther a swift journey to wherever he was going next.
"That was beautiful," Lea said softly, coming up beside him and taking his arm. "I love you, Laurence Dolan, have I told you that?"
"Not today," he told her, pulling his hand off the coffin and turning to take Lea in a one-armed hug.
"I don't ever want to have to do this for you, you hear me?" She sounded fierce, like the Lea he knew, but her voice was also a little choked.
"Don't worry." He kissed the top of her head.
"I'm trying not to."
Then someone else came over and touched his arm and told him what a lovely job he'd done, and then someone else, and then he was making excuses and heading back to Lea's car with her and Bran's acoustic, and evidently Jumper had gotten a ride from someone else because he was gone. Lea took Laurie home, kissed him on the cheek and told him to be at Underworld at six-thirty for set-up and sound check, and he'd done a beautiful job at the cemetery, and Gunther must have thought he was the only person who could do that song justice.
"Don't overthink it, querida," she said. "See you at the club."
words: 2859
total words: 49,486
So he was slightly relaxed and decently awake by the time Lea came to get him, and by the time they got to Pryor Brothers funeral home Laurie actually felt like himself again. He'd pay his respects to Bader and Mrs Glassman, he'd say hi to whoever he knew who was there, he'd go to the cemetery and pay his final respects to Gunther, and later tonight he'd rock hard for the boys and girls at Underworld.
Laurie hadn't been inside too many funeral homes in his life - only one, when his grandmother died - but he guessed Pryor Brothers was one of the nicer ones. It was very calm and soothing, with wood-paneled walls and dark red oriental rugs and the occasional potted plant. It was almost like being in someone's house, except for the closed coffin laid out in one room and the rows of chairs facing it. That was a little weird. A guy in a dark blue suit who Laurie didn't know was walking around being relatively unobtrusive but still kind of professional and efficient, which made Laurie think he was one of the funeral directors. When Laurie and Lea came in, the guy was talking to someone Laurie figured was Gunther's mom, and so Laurie and Lea were first approached by someone who looked a lot like Gunther, except alive, and wearing a charcoal suit and Mondrian-patterned tie.
"Bader?" Laurie said. The guy nodded.
"You're Laurie," he said. "We've met, you probably don't remember." Laurie thought. It seemed rude to admit that he didn't remember, but he really didn't. It must have shown on his face, because Bader continued "It was a couple years ago, don't worry about it. Thanks for coming." This last was directed at Lea, who took his hand and said she was really sorry.
"I really liked Gunther," she said. "I'll really miss him."
"I think a lot of people will. There are a lot of people here." Bader sounded almost surprised. Laurie wanted to tell him not to be - Gunther had a lot of friends and had worked with a lot of people who respected him. He was always professional and prepared and he loved what he did, and it was no surprise that so many people would turn out to say goodbye to him. "If you'll excuse me, I'm going to go rescue my mom. There's coffee and pastries in that room, and the coffin is in there, if you want to... well, whatever." He shook both their hands again and hustled off.
"We should go sign the book," Lea whispered.
"What book?" Laurie whispered back. Whispering seemed appropriate.
"There's usually a guest book. It might be in with the... coffin. Come on."
Laurie let Lea guide him into the room with Gunther's coffin, which was made of shiny dark-red wood and sat on a kind of table at one end of the room. There were bunches of flowers sitting on the table around it, and rows of chairs facing it. About half the chairs were filled, and the room was very, very quiet. Laurie recognized the side of Mission's head a few rows in front of them, and took Lea's hand and pulled her down the aisle to sit behind the drummer.
"Hey," Laurie whispered, leaning forward and putting his hand on Mission's shoulder.
"Hey," Mission whispered back. "Bader got him a nice coffin."
"Bader said there were a lot of people here," Lea said. "Where is everyone?"
"In the other room, probably, eating and drinking and talking." Someone sitting a few rows in front of Mission turned and glared at them. It looked a lot like Jumper Bradley, the lead singer of WD-40, a local thrash punk outfit. Laurie hadn't thought Gunther had ever worked with them.
Sorry, Laurie mouthed at the guy, who shrugged and turned back to face the coffin. "Maybe we should go in there too," he suggested to Lea and Mission.
"I'm going to stay here a little longer," Mission said. "But you guys go. Look for Bran - he said he'd be here."
"I'm going to sit a little bit too," Lea said. She took Laurie's hand. "Are you wigged?"
"A little," he admitted.
He was starting to get... not nervous, and not tense exactly, but something. This whole thing was strange and he felt a little out of his element. What did he know about death? The only ways he knew how to show his respect were either musically or sexually. Now, if Gunther was alive, Laurie could drag him into the bathroom and go down on him, or they could go back to someone's apartment and fuck like bunnies. They could write new songs, or rewrite old ones, or play ones that had already been written. But Laurie didn't really know how to feel here, and while he was pretty sure how he should be acting, he wasn't sure he was entirely comfortable. He kind of wanted to go home. But he couldn't.
He got up and went back out into the hallway and then into the reception room, where there were people he knew standing around drinking coffee and eating cheese danish and talking about Gunther or life in general or just local music gossip. Laurie was a little more at home here, and he could relax a little more.
At ten-thirty Bader started collecting people so they could move on to the cemetery, and by ten-forty-five they were on their way. Lea ended up with Jumper from WD-40 in her back seat, because he'd taken the bus out to the funeral home, and Laurie apologized for being loud in the viewing room. Jumper said it was no big deal. Otherwise they were all quiet the whole way to the cemetery, and when everyone had gathered in the right spot for the ceremony, Laurie looked around and realized that Bader had been right - there were a lot of people there.
It was something like a mini Who's Who of the local music scene. Nico Parris was there, of course, with Les Montgomery, the drummer for Book of Fish, but he seemed oddly subdued in his black suit. Laurie remembered that he and Gunther had had a brief relationship - Nico was never one to keep his love affairs quiet - and hoped Nico had been tested for his own sake. All seven members of And We Danced showed up, understandably because Gunther had laid down basic drum tracks for all of the songs on their debut CD, and they'd asked him more than once to play live with them, to fill out their sound. They looked not much different than they did on stage - black suits, white shirts, black ties - except for St Michel Duffy, the drummer, who had a Hawaiian shirt on under his long raincoat. He explained it by saying that death was just another step on a person's journey through the world, and they should be celebrating Gunther's life, not mourning his death. It made sense to Laurie and he agreed when St Michel told him, although a few people had a few words with him and he buttoned up his coat in an effort to hide the brilliant colors and apparently inappropriate sunniness. Coleman ("Just Coleman"), the bass player for Fifteen-Cent Solution, showed up with his left arm in a sling, which explained why they'd had to bow out of the show that night. He apologized to Laurie for the last-minute emergency. Laurie said it was ok.
Both Harrison brothers from The Triumphant Return of Tom Brady were there, as well as Ivan, formerly of the Divine, and his pale, fragile-looking girlfriend, who hung off his arm and sniffled into a hanky for the entire service. The drummer for Mintyfish came with a woman who turned out to be his wife and another girl who turned out to be his wife's sister and the singer in the late, lamented Pear and the Pomegranate, Bran and Mission's first band. Marcella and Vasily, the only remaining members of the original Divine, showed up while Bader Glassman was thanking everyone for coming, both of them somber and serious and a little overdramatic in Victorian-goth black. Marcella always knew how to make an entrance, even at someone else's funeral.
There were a few promoters and studio techs, a couple of guys from the music school, and three people Gunther had known in Toronto - a pale skinny boy with dark hair and glasses who was introduced as Nic, Gunther's boyfriend, and two other guys, Ian and Douglas, who said they were there to represent the rest of the musicians Gunther had been working with. Douglas had curly red-blond hair and looked really familiar to Laurie, but they'd obviously never met before.
There were some chair set out but there were so many people almost everyone had to stand. Bader said a few words, didn't stop even when Marcella and Vasily showed up and interrupted him by trying to push through to the front of the crowd. Bader didn't even bother to acknowledge them, and Laurie could guess that pissed Marcella off. But hey, it wasn't her funeral.
Mrs Glassman also thanked everyone for coming, she hadn't realized her boy had so many friends and she was grateful. Laurie got the impression she might have wanted to say something else, something along the lines of "Where were you when he killed himself?" but maybe he was just projecting. He didn't necessarily think he'd been a bad friend, but he was starting to think someone had been asleep at the wheel. How could you not know your friend or, more importantly, your lover was thinking of killing himself? How did that slip past someone's radar? Nic, the Canadian boyfriend, was just as distraught as anyone else, if not more so, and seemed just as shell-shocked and even a little guilty. Laurie figured he could go easier on the boy, even if he kept it all in his head.
And then Bader was beckoning to him and it was his turn and this seemed to be the least rehearsed part of the whole morning, because it really was. Laurie was prepared in that he knew the song he was supposed to play, but he wasn't really as mentally prepared as he thought. Although he could look at it as a performance like any other - more or less - and an audience that had gotten in free but still deserved the best performance he could give.
Lea squeezed his hand as he made his way to the freshly-dug hole and the coffin of Gunther Glassman, and he tuned Bran's guitar (and somewhere in the crowd he knew Bran was wincing), and he took a breath, and he played a little introduction, and he began to sing.
I heard there was a secret chord
That David played and it pleased the Lord
But you don't really care for music, do you....
Now that was just wrong, Laurie thought. Music was Gunther's life, not just what he did but what he was. He was like a lot of local musicians that way. He was like Laurie that way.
Well it goes like this - the fourth, the fifth
The minor fall and the major lift
The baffled king composing hallelujah
Hallelujah, hallelujah....
A little breeze kicked up, rustling leaves and skirts and the hems of coats. Except for Laurie's cigarette-smoke rasp and the purer notes of the guitar, it was eerily quiet. It felt like a movie to Laurie, like someone had arranged the weather and the ambient noise and had made sure Gunther got a picture-perfect, idealized send-off.
Baby, I've been here before
I've seen this room and I've walked this floor
You know, I used to live alone before I knew you....
Was he singing to Gunther now, or for him?
I've seen your flag on the marble arch
And love is not a victory march
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah.
By now it was clear to everyone, including Laurie, that he wasn't singing for the gathered mourners - he was singing to Gunther, and maybe to himself, and maybe to all the other kind, talented, cute boys he'd known and slept with and lost over the years. Maybe that had been Gunther's idea all along, because he would have known that Laurie could judge his audience and adjust his performance accordingly, but for such a personal, private thing as this, he could just as easily lose himself in the music and forget he even had an audience of living, breathing human beings. And Laurie for his part wasn't much for the mystical shit - he didn't believe in ghosts or any of that stuff and he wouldn't come back to the cemetery to talk to Gunther's grave thinking the boy could hear him up in Heaven - but this was what Gunther wanted. A last, private concert from one of the boys he'd loved, a song he held dear played by someone he'd always remembered.
Laurie knew people would whisper about this later, were probably already whispering about it now, wondering why him, why this song, why now? He and Gunther hadn't been a couple (as much as they were ever a couple) in two years, and sure, they saw each other and hung out occasionally and once when Mission came down sick with food poisoning Gunther had filled in at a gig at the eleventh hour, but then what about the musicians he'd been working with in Toronto? What about his boyfriend? His brother, even, since it was pretty well-known that Bader had a beautiful voice and had performed in musical theater in college and just after. Why Laurie? Laurie himself couldn't guess.
All he knew was that this must have been what Gunther had in mind - a gathering of friends and lovers and former lovers, colleagues and coworkers and people who cared about him, and a song he'd loved to cement their memories of him, and to send him off to the next stage.
But remember when I moved in you
And the holy dove was moving too
And every breath we drew was hallelujah
Laurie couldn't remember any particularly incandescent nights with Gunther, but he did remember that the boy was a generous lover, fun and willing and sexy and just kinky enough. And cute, so cute.
Maybe there's a god above
But all I've ever learned from love
Was how to shoot somebody who outdrew you
And it's not a cry that you hear at night
It's not somebody who's seen the light
It's a cold and it's a broken hallelujah....
Someone was sniffling. More than one someone. Damn. Laurie had made people cry. He normally didn't think he should be proud of that, and this was a funeral, it wouldn't take much to bring people to tears. He was obscurely proud of himelf for getting through the words without fucking up too badly.
He let the music trail off and finally came to the end of the song. That seemed to be the end, because Bader didn't seem inclined to say anything other than "Thank you," to Laurie, and "I know Gunther would've been pleased." Laurie moved away from the side of the grave and put his hand on top of the coffin, just for a second, and mentally wished Gunther a swift journey to wherever he was going next.
"That was beautiful," Lea said softly, coming up beside him and taking his arm. "I love you, Laurence Dolan, have I told you that?"
"Not today," he told her, pulling his hand off the coffin and turning to take Lea in a one-armed hug.
"I don't ever want to have to do this for you, you hear me?" She sounded fierce, like the Lea he knew, but her voice was also a little choked.
"Don't worry." He kissed the top of her head.
"I'm trying not to."
Then someone else came over and touched his arm and told him what a lovely job he'd done, and then someone else, and then he was making excuses and heading back to Lea's car with her and Bran's acoustic, and evidently Jumper had gotten a ride from someone else because he was gone. Lea took Laurie home, kissed him on the cheek and told him to be at Underworld at six-thirty for set-up and sound check, and he'd done a beautiful job at the cemetery, and Gunther must have thought he was the only person who could do that song justice.
"Don't overthink it, querida," she said. "See you at the club."
words: 2859
total words: 49,486
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no subject
Date: 2003-11-26 07:38 pm (UTC)