Fifty dollars was about what Rank got paid after a five-hour shift bouncing at Goldfinger’s. Sometimes the rides in the Dodge with Ivor take no longer than fifteen minutes.
It is a good deal, no matter how you slice it. In the first week of his new position, he has already worked three such shifts with Ivor on top of the Thursday and Friday evening shifts he’ll put in at the bar. All of a sudden, he’s not making bad money.
All of a sudden, Rank begins to wonder if he shouldn’t study for exams after all. What he should do is, he should call Adam, with whom he takes two courses, and set up an all-night grilling session. Do what he can to yank at least those two grades up by the bootstraps and then spend next semester doing his best Adam-imitation, pulling down A’s across the board to make up for the shitshow that is sure to be his mid-term results.
All of a sudden, he’s thinking about next semester.
The problem is he doesn’t really call Adam anymore. They just sort of bump into each other, and not even very often. But Kyle has booked their boys’ night out for the coming Saturday, the Saturday Rank has off, so he and Adam will see each other then. He plans to apologize for being such an asshole all semester. Maybe not outright apologize, as that would be kind of gay and over-earnest, but do or say something to sort of imply contrition. Mutter about how stressed out he’s been lately. Buy his buddy an entire tray of shooters, tell him he likes his cardigan, slap him — ever-so-lightly — on the back.
And just before they get too shitfaced, ask his friend for help.
Wade has a girlfriend and it is ridiculous and sad. He won’t shut up about her, goes around shamelessly burbling, I am so freaking in love, man! and is busy writing a series of guitar ballads to elucidate this point. It pains and embarrasses them. Wade and his girlfriend spend entire moony afternoons nuzzling each other on the grimy couch, so when Rank arrives to hang, he finds he can only sit so long watching them gaze and fondle before needing to be elsewhere. Worse, Wade insists that everyone must get to know and love his girl as he does. Kyle had to place him in an arm-lock to keep him from inviting her along on their Saturday blowout.
“I don’t go anywhere without Emily now,” Wade insisted. “It just can’t happen, man. She’s a part of me.” So Kyle pinned him to the couch and wrenched his arm behind his back.
“Yoko Ono!” said Kyle, astride Wade who was busy suffocating among the cushions. “Say it. Say Yoko Ono.”
“I will never say that about her,” Wade protested from the depths of the couch. “She isn’t even Asian.”
Emily was one of those awful neo-hippie girls who never wore anything tight. It was all enormous, cable-knit sweaters pulled down over ankle-length skirts, chunky boots and hair going everywhere. Little House on the Prairie meets Janis Joplin. And she smiled at you whether she liked you or not, no matter what you said — one of those secretive I-exist-on-a-higher-plane kind of smiles — just to prove how laid-back she was.
“Just kill him,” pleaded Rank. “Suffocate him now and get it over with.”
“Yoko. Ono.”
Wade’s reply was lost inside the couch, but his tone was all defiance. Kyle rolled off him onto the floor and Wade sat up, red-faced, victorious.
“Okay but she’s not coming Saturday,” panted Kyle.
“We’ll see,” said Wade.
The plan was to lock up the Temple for the night, because if they hung out there for any length of time on a Saturday, people inevitably would start dropping in, looking for a party. Kyle, needless to say, had dictated the agenda for the night. First stop was the Italian restaurant to treat themselves to dinner. Rank, who was just getting used to having cash in his pocket, thought this was a lame and needless expense — they could easily pad their stomachs at a sub shop for a quarter of the price then hit the bars — but since none of the other guys balked, neither did he. Gordon Sr. sounded in his head throughout the meal however, saying things meant to accompany a flitting hand gesture like: My, my! And, La di da! Also the occasional slur against Italians, whose traditions apparently