“Who’s the cowboy in back now?” asked Chet to his on again off again girlfriend, this time toggled on.
“Oh, some guy Mom says owes her a favor. Working for free because of that. Or snapshots… something.”
“Interesting,” Chet says, envisioning the poses. Not abstract.
“Is it?” Alice Tart slumps even lower in her seat across from her still upright, toggled on lover. From this angle, she can barely see his eyes above his perpetual handkerchief, worn not for fear of disease or anything like that but just because of the look. The lead singer/guitarist of Scissorrun© is all about style, and of the Christmas kind in particular. He never wants the holiday to end. Else: he’ll have to think about other things. Like death. Because of his emphasis on style over substance, he’s never really learned to play the guitar properly and that’s understandably held his band back. Drummer Sherwood is pretty rock solid with his naturally hyperactive hands and all. And bassist Karl is at least good on “Paper”, their hit single and perhaps the only song of theirs that really matters in the end. Restaurant manager turned band manager Biff Carter is urging Chet to take lessons from a local musical genius named Spiff, no kin to Biff despite the similarity of names. Not a long lost brother or anything… I don’t think (?).
Chet leans toward Alice. “I’m sorry to hear about your father.” He’d heard it hurts more the second time around but of course didn’t say this aloud.
“Oh I was over all that the first time around,” she said, dismissing the sympathy. “Anyway, Mom has a new man now,” and she nods toward the kitchen.”
“Really?” says Chet. “That quick?”
“Yup. That quick. Pictures did him in, I’m guessing.”
Chet nods. He understands the power. 319.
Sunklands 