"Can you believe the chicks, Timothy?" Brandon goads me. "It's like a buffet."

I tune my guitar on the little box stage and survey the living room of the frat house packed with bodies. "We're her to play."

"Yeah, we are." The wicked inflection in his voice lets me know exactly what kind of playing he has in mind.

Brandon's a good guy. Sure, he's loaded and a little entitled, but he's a straight shooter.

I don't count on him to have my back, but then, I've learned that's an unrealistic expectation to have of anyone.

Tricia comes up on stage. She shifts close enough I smell perfume and plants...