Graeme felt himself veering into overprotective territory with regard to Tommy.  He barely knew Mark, but he knew he didn't trust him at all.  When he met Tommy the day after the infamous date, he managed to feel a little bit guilty for it when it was explained to him that Mark had been the vision of repentant politeness.  Tommy told him what Mark had said when they'd parted the night before, and Graeme could understand why Tommy had dreamily declared it the "best date ever" when he'd called the previous night. 

    It was always nice when someone you liked called you "great," and Graeme was beginning to get the idea that was something that Tommy needed to hear despite all his posturing.

    Though, the last thing Graeme wanted to see was Tommy hurt any further.   They spent enough time together for Graeme to know that he was still crippled by whatever had happened in England that he refused to talk about in any great detail.  Graeme didn't think things with Mark Briar were going to last anyway, despite Tommy seeming happy.  Graeme had convinced himself that it was nothing more than a momentary high.

    He and Hope had even discussed it.  It was frightfully clear that Tommy's heart was elsewhere.  Every time any variation of the name "Richard" was uttered that look would settle into Tommy's eyes.  All the longing and hurt and disappointment he felt was shown clear as day on his face.  It wasn't only the name that set him off, but the strangest things as well; little things like wandering past the undergarment aisle at Wallmart and seeing an endcap display of boxer briefs would set him off.  "The look" would flicker across his face then quickly disappear.  Then he would laugh it off and say something like:
    
    "Richey always wore red boxer briefs.  He's like Rain Man when it comes to underpants."

    Graeme was fairly certain that you couldn't be over someone if you still spoke about them with that kind of fond reverence, and Tommy, it seemed, was powerless to stop the influx of emotion.  He wore his heart on his sleeve far too often where it was easy to see and even easier to crush.  Graeme was positive that Tommy was completely unaware of it as well.

    But he could only stay vigilant when it came to Mark Briar.  If Tommy wanted a try at something that might make him happy in Nevada then Graeme wasn't going to rain on his parade, but he wasn't going to trust Mark either.

    The entire incident in the locker room had blown over quickly and with suspiciously little fallout.  Nobody seemed to care that Mark was gay; it wasn't even talked about, and Tommy was more involved with the team than ever.  He moved his locker to be across from Mark, surreptitiously kicking a freshman out of the spot, and the others accepted him there as if it had always been that way.  They were relieved that he was not angry for the things he had overheard them say and made Mark get on his knees to beg forgiveness for starting the fight.  Mark was dutifully embarrassed, but got it over with in order to avoid further teasing, good natured as it was.  He continued to date Tommy, but the only person who knew about it was Graeme.  They had come to a mutual decision to not only be discreet around their fathers, but around school as well.  The only difference anybody on the outside looking in could see was that Mark occasionally spent the lunch period after Graeme had gone back to class with Tommy.
 
 Tommy got a job near the end of the school year.  It was fine to be chauffeured around the city by Mark or Graeme, but he was getting tired of it.  He wanted the freedom that his own car provided him, and he struck up a deal with his parents.  If he got a job, then they would help him buy a car and pay for his driving lessons.  Tommy, being himself, didn't want to get stuck in a job like the one Graeme had working for McDonalds.  Graeme did try to convince him that it would be the best option, if only so he would have a friend stuck there in "fast food hell" with him, but Tommy had set his aspirations higher. 

    There was a local indie-rock station in Mesquite called AM*AD that Tommy had his eye on.  He had walked in one day after school and landed a part-time job as a paid intern.  His duties mostly involved cleaning the toilets, answering phones and filing, but Graeme was instantly jealous when Tommy made it sound like a dream job to get his foot in the music industry's door.  It wasn't glamorous though.  It wasn't anything the sort, but it was where Tommy met Shaina Spyder.

    Tommy emerged from the bathroom one day, pushing a mop and bucket in front of him and sighing with boredom.  He would have hoped interning with a radio station might have been at least a little bit more exciting.  Not only was the manual labor dull,m but the pay was minimum wage.  Tommy realized that if he ever wanted to make it out of the desert and back to England then he was going to have to save up some money.  His AM*AD income was not going to be enough.

    He spotted Shaina, and, feeling irritable, he accosted her.

    "Do you have permission to post here?"  He asked her.  The peevish tint to his voice did not elude her, but she laughed out loud at him anyway.

    "Of course I do," she said.  "Who are you to ask?"

    "I work here," he said.  "This isn't a public board.  You need permission to post here."

    "Do you even know who I am?"  She scoffed.  "I post here all the time.  I don't need permission, and I don't have to stand here and answer to a..."  She paused to give him an appraising look. "...a twelve year old janitor."

   Tommy fumed silently at her condescension, but bit back his acerbic reply once he caught sight of the flyer that she was pinning to the board. 

    "You're looking for a lead guitar?"  He asked, suddenly bright. 

    "Yeah So?'  She said.

    "Well..."  He impulsively reached out and plucked a tab from the bottom of the flyer.

    "You?"  She snorted laughter. 

    "Me."  He confirmed.  "What's so hilarious about that?"

    She waved a hand at him as if that were all the explanation needed.  Upon noting his angered stare, Shaina sighed impatiently and offered up a reason.

    "Look, kid," she said.  "We were kind of hoping for a girl to be honest."
    
    Tommy eyed the flyer again and chewed thoughtfully on his bottom lip.  He wondered if it was worth throwing out a little bit of his dignity if it might land him the gig that he hadn't even known he'd wanted.

    "Yeah, well..."  He adopted a contrapposto pose against his broom handle.

    "Look at this face," he said.  "I can be a girl."

    She giggled at him again and patted his shoulder.

    "Nice try, kiddo," she said.  "You're just...  You don't have the experience."

    "How the hell do you know?"  He frowned at her.  "I can play guitar.  I can play circles around people twice my age.  Been doin' it since I was ten."

    She sighed impatiently.  "You're just not what I'm looking for."

    She turned away and took a step.

    "That's it?"  He muttered at her retreating form.  "You won't even give me a chance?  Don't even want to see me play?"

    "That's it."  She confirmed, and she walked away.

****

    Guy was surprised to find Tommy sitting on the step of his parents house that afternoon smoking a cigarette.

    "Graeme's not here," he said.  "He's got some meeting or something..."

    "I know," Tommy replied.  "I'm actually here to see you."

    "Me?" 

    "Yes, I've got a favor to ask you," he said.  "Can we talk?  I need some advice."

    "Advice?"  Guy eyed him.  "What about?"

    "About a girl," Tommy replied.

    "I thought you were going out with...ah, how did Graeme put it?"  Guy theatrically pondered his statement by stroking his goatee with one hand and tapping his head with the other.  "Ah, yes!  'That Asshole on the Soccer Team'."

    "My boyfriend is not an asshole," Tommy grumbled.  "Graeme just doesn't like him, but this isn't about him, or Graeme.  This is about Shaina Spyder."

    "Shaina Spyder?"  Guy couldn't have been more surprised at the revelation.  "When did you meet Shaina Spyder?"

    "Do you know her?"

    "Who doesn't?" Guy said.  "Anybody who plays the clubs around here knows her."

    "Well, she came to my work," Tommy said.  "And she's looking for a guitarist."

    "And...you need me for?"

    "I have a plan," Tommy said.

****

    Graeme arrived at the house an hour later, just as Tommy was exiting Guy's garage studio.  He felt mildly disturbed by the pang of jealousy that surged through him upon seeing his best friend joking around with his brother.  He didn't like walking around feeling that possessive of anybody, but somehow he couldn't help it.   He sat down on the couch in the tv room that abutted the garage and scowled them both down as they stood there speaking in hushed tones.  Tommy reached out and patted Guy's arm, smiling brilliantly and nodding enthusiastically as he did so.  It was only then that they turned and noted the younger Alexander there.

    "There you are!"  Tommy waved at him and trotted across the room.  He threw himself on the spot beside Graeme and kissed him a greeting on the cheek.  "How was your gay meeting?"

    "Shut-up," Graeme muttered.  "You should come sometime.  The girls baked cookies.  We're organizing one of those flower sale thingies.  Angie tried to dye a carnation rainbow coloured but she put all the food colouring in the same jar and it came out brown."

    "You're going to buy me one, right?"

    "A brown carnation?  I'm not sure what that's supposed symbolize about our friendship," Graeme muttered and crossed his arms.

    "What's up with you, grumpy?"  Tommy asked.

    "Nothing.  Were you waiting for me?"  he asked.

    "Nah, I was just talking to Guy.  Got a surprise for you," he said.

    "For me?"  Graeme arched an eyebrow at his friend.  "What kind of surprise?"

    "You'll see."  Tommy patted him on the shoulder.  "But I gotta go now.  Got to answer phones at the station tonight.  I'll see you tomorrow, okay?"

    "If you're not too busy with your boyfriend," Graeme muttered in what he thought was an inaudible tone.

    "My asshole boyfriend has detention and is grounded this weekend for not doing his homework," Tommy replied with barely disguised amusement.  "So it's just you and me tomorrow."

    Graeme's face flushed hot with embarrassment and he glared at his brother who only shrugged; a lopsided smile adorning his face.
    
    "Aww, you're cute when you're jealous," Tommy said.  He ruffled a speechless Graeme's hair as he bid his final farewell and left the building.

    "Okay, what's going on, Guy?" Graeme immediately began interrogating his brother as soon as Tommy disappeared.  "You and Tom?"

    "Me and To..."

    Guy cackled with laughter as soon as Graeme's insinuation registered in his brain.

    "What?  Don't laugh!"  Graeme muttered.  "I know you've fooled around with dudes before."

    "Okay," Guy conceded.  "That's true, and your friend is a cute little twink, but...there are three fundamental things wrong with the words coming out of your mouth.  A.  He's not my type.  B.  He's your friend, Graeme.  and C.  Are you insane?  Jailbait much?"

    "You're right," Graeme said.  "I'm stupid."

    "What about you?"  Guy flopped on to the couch next to his brother.

    "What about me?"

    "Really jealous?"   Guy elbowed his brother playfully in the ribs.

    "Ow! No!"  Graeme frowned.  "Yes...maybe...I don't know!"

    "Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm here, little bro. I've been there."

    "There's nothing to discuss that I haven't already discussed with Tommy," Graeme muttered. 

    "That's cute." Guy smirked.  "You told your little friend you have a crush on him, eh?"

    "I think he kind of figured it out when I..."  Graeme stopped the sentence abruptly then shrugged.

    "Oh, man, what did you do?"  Guy said.

    "Nothing," Graeme replied.  "Nothing, Guy, just drop it, okay?  We are friends...dot, dot, period, end of story."

    "You just spelled out an ellipsis."  Guy chuckled.  "What are you leaving out of that sentence; '...with benefits'?"

    "It's not like that.  It'd be a hell of a lot easier if it was like that," Graeme admitted and smirked at the look of surprise that flashed onto his brother's face.

    "Oh, really?"

    "Yes, really,"  Graeme said.  "But unfortunately...no.  I feel nothing like that.  No cock for me, thanks.  Don't get me wrong, I love Tom, but he doesn't want to go there, I don't want to go there,  so there's nowhere to go really."

    "Geez."  Guy shook his head in amusement.  "So you're coming out to me as a straight guy then?"

    "I think so," Graeme laughed.  "You know me.  I never do anything the right way around.  So...about this secret surprise?"

    "Tom wants to surprise you," Guy said.  "I'm not going to tell."

    "And I just let you in on my deepest darkest secret," Graeme pouted.

    Guy laughed at him and stood up, patting his brother on the back as he did so.

    "You'll just have to have patience, dude."

******

    He was lounging around on the couch that Friday, minding his own business, watching television, when his brother marched into the room and threw a t-shirt on his face.

    "C'mon.  Let's go."  He announced.

    "Go where?"  Graeme threw the shirt back at Guy.

    "Spiral Stairs.  Come on."

    "I don't want to see your crappy band.  Leave me alone, dude."

    Guy threw the shirt at him again.

    "Not takin' no for an answer,"  Guy replied.  "You're helping us set up."

    "I'm not eighteen yet.  Sorry.  Can't get in."  Graeme turned his attention back to the television.

    "You're with me.  It won't be a problem, and I'm not going to leave you alone until you agree to go with me."

    Graeme finally sat up with an exaggerated moan.  "Come on, Guy.  What is your deal?  You never, ever, want me to go see you play this bad."

    "Stop being difficult," Guy huffed.  "You'll see.  Trust me, bro.  You're not going to regret it.  Go put your shirt on."

    Graeme unfurled the black shirt and laughed when he saw the print.

    "What is this?"  He flipped it around and held it against his chest displaying the image on the front.

    "Our new T-shirts.  The black one is for staff only."

    Graeme was defeated.  He swapped shirts and stood up.  He twirled and held his arms out for his brother's appraisal. 

    "Perfect," Guy said.

    "Lederhosen Suspenders?" Graeme replied, his mouth quirked in a crooked grin.  "Ridiculous."

    "Ridiculous and appropriate."  Guy nodded.  "Now hurry up.  I'm late already."

*******

  Graeme didn't understand why Guy had been so insistent on him attending Lederhosen's gig.  They hadn't asked him to help with the equipment despite his official staff T-shirt.  Guy had only deposited him at the bar and told him to enjoy the show, which Graeme didn't quite think was possible.  He would have rather spent the evening alone watching television than to sit around feeling like nothing more than his brother's hanger on.

  He sipped on his root beer and waited for the lights to go down.  When they did, he was surprised to see Guy standing front and center.  Lederhosen was Guy's project, but he wasn't the front-man.  He thanked the crowd for coming out and introduced a guest vocalist and guitarist.  It was the first time Graeme ever saw Tommy Sinclair play to a crowd.

  After the set was finished Graeme abandoned the bar despite the instructions not to.  He was granted access backstage for being Guy's brother and found Tommy and the rest of the band sharing a triumphant drink.

    "Hey," Graeme shouted to get their attention.  "What did I tell you about joining Guy's band?" 

    Tommy grinned at him and marched over for a welcoming hug.

    "What the hell was all that about?" Graeme asked. "That was your big secret."

    "Yeah," Tommy replied.  "Not that big of a secret, but I just thought I would shock you.  What did you think?"

    "I didn't know you could do that," Graeme admitted. 

    "What?  Sing and Play guitar at the same time while being fabulous on stage?"  Tommy said.  "It's like you don't even know me at all."

    "Hah-hah," Graeme replied.  "Come on, Tom.  You know you don't like to talk about your band stuff."

    Tommy looked away momentarily and sighed before turning back.  "You're right.  It's time it stopped reminding me of him though.  I love the stage too much to quit.  You really liked it, though?"

   You did great for being in Lederhosen.  What a crappy band."

    "I heard that," Guy spoke up from where he was standing not far away.

    Graeme stuck his tongue out at his brother and turned back to Tommy.  "So?"

    "I'm trying to impress someone."

    "Mark's not here," Graeme said.
 
    "Mark?"  Tommy looked at him quizzically then burst into a wide grin.  "He's going to regret not doing his homework.  I'm so switched on right now you don't even want to know the naughty things I want to do to him."

    "Ugh, yeah.  You're right I don't want to know."  Graeme stuck his tongue out and laughed. 

    Shaina Spyder marched into their midst then, as Tommy knew she would.  He turned towards her yet kept his arm wrapped easily around Graeme's waist and addressed her with the smuggest smile he possessed.

    "Can I help you?"

    "That was tricky." She smirked at him.

    "What?"  Tommy replied as innocently as he could manage.  "Guy Alexander is my friend here's brother.  I was just helping him out tonight.  I had no idea you were going to be here."

    Graeme stood by and glanced back and forth between the two of them feeling completely confused.

    "Cute," she said.  "So, you can play after all."

    "Apparently."  Tommy nodded.  "I take it, since you're standing here talking to me, that you haven't found a guitarist yet?"

    "No," she admitted.  "But that doesn't mean I'm just going to hire you right here and now.  I'm flattered that you put on this little show just to impress me, but I still have to run it by my bandmates.  You'll have to audition."

    "Oh, don't play coy with me, Shaina Spyder," he said.  "People who's names are on the marquee don't have to ask anybody.  Do they?"

    She didn't reply to that.  She only laughed and handed him a business card.

    "Audition.  Here.  Tomorrow 3 p.m.  If you have any other questions, you can call me at that number."  She winked at him then and trotted off in the opposite direction.

    Graeme finally broke free of the embrace and gave Tommy a perplexed look.

    "Did Shaina Spyder just hire you to play in her band?"

    "Yeah, I think so," Tommy said with a shrug.  "Thought I'd better get another job.  AM*AD doesn't pay that well."

    "And she was flirting with you, and giving you her number."  Graeme stared at him in awe.  "Shaina fucking Spyder, Tom.  How the hell do you do that?"

    "She's just a girl," Tommy replied.  "I had something to prove.  I don't give a shit who it's with, but I need to be in a band again.  I need to be on stage.  I didn't even know it until the opportunity presented itself."

    Guy found them then and clapped Tommy heartily on the back.

    "So you did it, eh?  Good job, kid," he said.  "Are you sure you know what you're getting into, though?  Shaina doesn't seem to be like your kind of music."

    "She's not," Tommy admitted.  "I've tuned in to her folksy schtick after I saw that flyer the other day, but...  I wanted a gig."

    "You could have started a band with Graeme here."  Guy waved towards his brother.

    "A paying gig," Tommy clarified.  "No offense, G.  People know who Shaina Spyder is.  She's going places, and I'm going places too."

****

    Graeme stumbled upon Mark Briar later that week.  It was strange to see him standing there, looking confused, in the middle of the hallway.

    "Looking for Tom?"  Graeme asked as he brushed by him on the way to his own locker.

    "Yeah.  Seen him?"

    "He had to get to Latin class early.  Smart fucker," Graeme replied.  "I don't know how useful speaking fluent Latin is going to be in life.  Dude's not going to be a doctor or a priest that's for sure." 
   
    "Harsh," Mark said.  "Maybe he wants to be a botanist?"

    Graeme grinned at him.  "You've met Tom, right?  I'm going to assume he's actually talked to you about his plan for rock-n-roll mega-stardom and that you don't spend all your time together gettin' all naked."

    Mark blushed to the roots of hair.

    "Christ, Alexander," he muttered.  "Do you have to say shit like that in the middle of the hallway?"

    "Sorry," Graeme replied.  "I just...I'm trying to get over my overprotective-mother gene.  You're going to have to deal with a little teasing if I gotta deal with you."

    "Look, I don't know what you think..."

    "Shhh," Graeme interrupted him.  "I don't think anything.  I'm happy for you guys, so don't get defensive, alright?  I kid because I love, so chill."

    "I'm chill," Mark muttered.  "So, uh...where were you last night?"

    "Last night?"  Graeme arched an eyebrow at him.  "Sorry, Tom did not inform me of the Ménage à Troi."

    "Stop it," Mark replied.  "I thought you'd be at the Spyder gig."

    "The what?"  Graeme frowned.  He hadn't heard anything about it other than Tommy had won the entire band over at his audition.  He didn't recall any dates being mentioned.

    "Oh, it was Tom's first gig with the Spyder band," Mark replied.  "I uh...thought you would have known.  Sorry."

    "Hey..."  Graeme bit back his jealous urges.  He noticed Mark had diverted his eyes towards the floor, so he touched him on the shoulder to get him to look up.  "Hey, it's alright.  I saw him play with Lederhosen the other day, which, I have to say sucked on general principle because it's my brother's band.  Tom was really good though.  He probably wanted share his first gig with just you.  Considering what he said about the things he was going to do to you the last time he took the stage, I'd say it's probably for the best he didn't invite me."

    "Oh, god, what did he say?" 

    "Judging by the horrified look on your face," Graeme said, "I think you probably know more details about it than I do."
    
    "I hate you," Mark muttered as he pressed the back of his hands to his reddened cheeks.

    "C'mon."  Graeme lay a hand on Mark's back and guided him down the hall.  "If we keep talking about your filthy sex life we're going to be late for class."

    "Hah, Hah,"  Mark shrugged Graeme's hand away and began to walk under his own power.

    "So, you going to be around tonight?  Graeme asked.

    "Nah," Mark replied.  "I have a lot of homework that I skipped yesterday.  Don't want to get grounded again.  The uh...rewards...are too good."

    "Well."  Graeme sighed, and admitted,  "He'll miss you."

    "He won't," Mark replied softly.

    Graeme eyed him sideways, and Mark shrugged at him when he caught the glance.

    "Can this heart to heart chat be over now?"  he asked.

    "Sure," Graeme replied.  "I'll tell Tom you were looking for him."

    "Okay."  Mark nodded.  "I guess I'll see you around."
    
    "Yep," Graeme agreed.  "See ya."
 
***

    Guy was assailed by his younger brother as he exited the house on his way to that night's gig. 

    "You gotta take me with you," Graeme implored.

    "Why?"  Guy frowned at him.  "It was hell to even get you off the couch last time."

    "Last time you were tricking me."  Graeme pointed out.  "I didn't know Tom was playing, and I want to go tonight, okay?  You can get me in, right?"

    "Tom can get you in."  Guy shrugged. 

    "Oh, come on, Guy.  I don't want to drive there," Graeme replied.

    "Why not?"

    Graeme shuffled where he stood, unsure of whether or not he should divulge the plan to his older, more responsible, brother.

    "Because.  Me and Tommy are gonna hang out after the gig, right.  Get what I mean?"

    "God."  Guy rolled his eyes.  "I'm going to have to babysit your drunk ass aren't I?"

    Graeme laughed mischievously.  "That's the plan, Stan.  Let's go."

    He tromped past  an amused brother and out the front door.

***

    Both Shaina and Tommy joined Guy and Graeme after the Spyder Band's set.  Graeme was unimpressed with Shaina's music.  The only other time he'd seen her play, he'd been too busy congratulating Tommy for a job well done with Lederhosen.  It was a different story altogether when he met her properly in person though.  He thought she was pretty and Graeme was instantly taken by her.  Where she seemed bored and ineffectual to him on stage.  She was warmer in person.  He hoped, that if he played his cards right, he could get to know her better, even though he knew it was probably hopeless to go chasing after an older woman.

    "What on Earth are you drinking?"  Tommy asked once introductions had been made.

    "It's root beer," Graeme said.  Despite his telling Guy that he was determined to spend the night in a drunken stupor, he felt himself unable to take that leap.  Though it was apparent by the bottle of Guinness in Tommy's hands, that the Square Box had no problem serving minors with obvious fake IDs.
   
   "Root Beer?  Abomination!  Sit tight," Tommy said.  "I'll get you one."  He tapped his bottle and disappeared from the table before Graeme could protest.

    He turned to Shaina then and smiled sheepishly.  He wished Tommy hadn't brought such sharp attention to his non-alcoholic beverage and by extension, his age.  He leaned down to sip the root beer without lifting the cup from its place on the table all the while keeping his eyes locked on Shaina's.  He was rewarded with a giggle.

    "You didn't even tell me you had a younger brother, Guy."

    "Conversation never came up, Shai-Shai," Guy said.

    She scowled at the impromptu nickname Guy had bestowed upon her then Tommy returned and thumped another Guinness down in front of his friend.

    "Cheers, Mate!"  He held his own bottle aloft.

    Graeme dubiously joined him in a toast then glared curiously at the brown liquid.

    "Bottom's up, little bro'," Guy chuckled into his own drink.

    Graeme made a sour face when he took his first sip.

    "This is totally not my first drink ever," he said to Shaina after choking down the first few gulps.

    "Impressive," she said with a laugh.

****

    An hour or two later, and Graeme was reduced to a giggling mess of a drunk, making bad jokes and inducing rolling eyes from his brother as they sat at a table in the corner of the Square Box.

    "This is a fascinating experiment," Guy noted from his corner.  "I wish I had more little brothers to get drunk for the first time."

    "Hah, hah," Graeme practically shouted.  As the intoxication had increased throughout the night so had the volume of his voice.  "So what!?  You have the hots for Tom."

    "What?"  Tommy's head swiveled around towards Guy the expression of shock clear on his face.  He had matched Graeme drink for drink, yet remained fully aware of the world around him unlike his friend.

    "He's stupid and drunk."  Guy chuckled.  "He thought you and I were hooking up that day you came to enlist my help in your evil plan to impress Shaina here."

    Shaina grinned.  "That was fortuitous."  She admitted. 

    Graeme giggled along with them and repeated the last word of Shaina's sentence.  "Fortuous! Indeed.  I gotta pee."

    Guy half stood in his chair and reached out a hand to stop Graeme from swinging out of his own chair and onto his feet, but Graeme was too fast for him and too fast for his head.  The wave of nausea hit him from seemingly nowhere, he stumbled a few steps then doubled over and threw up all over Guy's shoes.

    "Jesus Christ," Guy muttered, his eyes to the heavens.  Maybe it wasn't such an interesting experiment after all.  He held on to his brother's shoulders and guided him away towards the restroom.

    "Your friend is a lightweight," Shaina said to Tommy as they watched the two Alexanders disappear into the crowd.

    "He's never had a drink in his life," Tommy said.  "We probably shouldn't have let him do those shots with me."

    "Yeah," She admitted.  "Me and Guy will probably get busted for supplying minors with alcohol now."

    Tommy grinned sideways at her.  "I'm not that minor."

    "When did you turn sixteen, Tommy?"

    "February," he admitted. 

    "You're just a baby," she sighed at him.  "Never thought I'd see the day when I'd hire a sixteen year old to be in my band."

    "I'm not a baby."  Tommy frowned at her.

    "What about your friend?" she asked.

    "Graeme's a couple months older than me, why?"

    She shrugged at him and smiled to herself.  "No reason, really."

    He eyed her dubiously, but he let his questions drop and concentrated on the beer in front him.  They sat in silence until Guy and Graeme returned.  Graeme was looking much more alert, and was unresponsive to Guy's insistence that they leave.

    "I'm ferpectly pine," he slurred at his brother.  "Shaina promised to take me to the Lucky Horseshoe for Midnight Karaoke an' shit.  I'll be fine...I was just crazy dizzy for a sec.  I'll know to not do that next time."

    "We'll watch him, right Tom?"

    Tommy nodded from his seated position.  "Sure.  He'll be fine."

    "Okay then," Guy muttered and ran his hand through his hair.  "I'm gonna trust you guys to cut him off though."  He stabbed a finger into Graeme's arm.  "Don't let him do anything stupid.  I'll give you guys money for a cab, alright?"

    "That's settled.  Shaina?"  Graeme offered his hand to the girl and she accepted.

    Tommy and Guy watched as Graeme made an announcement.

    "Follow me, guys!"  He held his head aloft and pointed towards the sky.  "I know the way!"

    He strode towards the exit, towing a giggling Shaina along behind him by their entwined hands. 

    "How old is she?"  Tommy asked the question that he had wanted to ask Shaina, but never would for fear of sounding rude.

    "Secretly," Guy replied, "She's 19, but she tells everybody she's older.  Thinks people will give her more respect that way and not treat her like a kid."

    "I know how that goes," Tommy said.  "Think I can pass for older?"

    "Tommy..."  Guy clapped him on the back and chuckled.  "You barely pass for sixteen as it is."

***

    The next day Guy was up bright and early.  He was wearing a plaid golf hat and a plaid vest to match his equally plaid pants. He was sitting at the kitchen table when Graeme stumbled in and threw himself into a chair.

    "Have a rough night, sweetheart?" Guy cheerily slurped o­n his honey wheat squares.

    "Did I?" Graeme mumbled. "Christ, what the hell are you wearing?  So much plaid, I can't  even look at you it's making the world turn upside down.  My head fucking hurts."

     Guy chuckled into his cereal.  "That's called a hangover, Graeme.  Congratulations, you are now officially an irresponsible teenager."

    "Yeah," he muttered.  "Sorry about your shoes."

    "Me too," Guy replied. "Well, it was about time for a new pair anyway."

    "Sorry about your shoes," Graeme repeated.

     Guy shrugged. He was totally amused when their mother, Romey, walked in with a stack of McDonalds pancakes piping hot in their Styrofoam container and lay them in front of her youngest child. Graeme just stared at them like they were from another planet.
 
     "I'm not all that hungry, Mom," he said.  He pushed them towards Guy and frowned.  He choked back the wave of nausea that the odor induced and whimpered involuntarily.

     "but it's your favorite."  She stood between her two sons with o­ne hand o­n Guy's shoulder and the other o­n Graeme's.

"What's the matter, Sweety?" She asked nicely, but her motherly suspicions had been aroused.

Guy, sensing an eruption, tried to get up from the table, but Romey pushed him back into the chair. She was pretty strong for a 66 year old lady, but then, raising six boys could do that for you. She leaned forwards and brushed Graeme's limp hair away from his eyes. He grimaced. He knew he was looking  ragged, and he knew he couldn't hide it.  He wasn't that experienced, and he had been too drunk and too late home from curfew for his mother not to notice.

"Where did you go last night?" Romey demanded.

Graeme withered under her intense glare and couldn't help but crack instantly.

"Spiral Stairs," he squealed hoping beyond hope that she would be merciful.

"And how did you get in there?" She asked "You are not 18 and you're certainly not old enough to be drinking."

She was almost hysterical at that point, never expecting such behavior from her sweet youngest child, and she was very disappointed that a smart kid like Graeme was following in Guy's footsteps. Graeme was quite bewildered. He didn't know what to say, and he wasn't sure he would have even if his brain was functioning correctly. Guy had gotten him in, and he didn't know how, but Tommy had bought him most of the drinks and he didn't want to rat out the two most important friends he had.

"It was all me," Guy spoke up finally. "Don't be too hard o­n him, it was entirely my fault.  I got him in.  He just wanted to see Tommy play."

"Well." Romey turned towards him. "I'm sure your father and I will be having an nice long chat with you tonight, and as for you, Graeme..." she paused "...You are grounded. You are to be home by five o'clock every night.  No television.  No phone.  No Sinclair."

"Tom had nothing to do with this.  I just wanted to see him play," Graeme whimpered.

"Yes.  I'm sorry Graeme, but you have to learn that missing curfew and coming home drunk when you're only sixteen is not acceptable behavior!  I don't know what Tommy's mother is doing even letting him work at a bar, but that is her business.  I'm only trying to look out for you.  So you'll have to deal with this punishment for however long your father and I decide it will be, or your brother would o­nly be too happy to have you come and attend his military school."

"Fuck, Mom, Gary's an asshole to Graeme, and you know it," Guy piped up.

She gave him a swift slap o­n the cheek for his trouble.

"You watch your language young man."  She yelled at her nearly 30 year old son. "If you want to keep a roof over your head you don't talk about your brother like that."

"Mom." Graeme looked up, his head pounding. "Can I stay home from school today? I'm not feeling so good."

She glared at him and he knew the answer.

****

"Wow," Tommy said as soon as Graeme joined him at his locker that morning. "You look bad."

"This is all your fault you know," Graeme noted.

"But you had fun," Tommy pointed out.

"Yeah, rah," Graeme muttered coldy. "Now I my curfew has been moved up.  I mean she trusts me o­ne day and the next she's ready to ship me off to military school."

"That's harsh," Tommy agreed.  "What's curfew?"

Graeme thought for a moment, "You know it's when you have to be home by a certain time."

Tommy bit his lip to hide his amusement then crossed his arms. "You know, I'm English; I'm not retarded. I meant what time do you have to be in?"

"Five O'clock in the afternoon.  What the fuck, right?" Graeme replied more than bitterly but Tommy burst out laughing.

"It's not funny," his friend mumbled.

"I'm sorry, but five o'clock? That is harsh, mate, are you going to abide by this?"

"What choice do I have?" Graeme spat. "It's do that or get delivered into the clutches of my evil drill instructor brother."

"Which is that?" Tommy asked.

"Gary," Graeme supplied.

"Surely he can't be that bad."

"Well," Graeme said, "He calls me the big mistake.  I mean, my mom was fifty when I was born.  I know I was an 'oops', but you don't have to point it out to me every time you see me, right?  I wouldn't call him fond of me."

"Hell, my dad doesn't even say that." Tommy pulled a math book out of his locker.

"Your dad likes you," Graeme pointed out.

"My dad tries to like me," Tommy replied. "He tries really hard, but I'm not quite what he was expecting out of a son."

"So he knows about your ex, or Mark?"

Tommy grimaced, "No I've not told him, and you'd better not either.  Just let him tinker with his truck engines or whatever the fuck he does at that garage he works at now." He glanced meaningfully at Graeme who held his hands up in surrender.

"I doubt it will come up in the minimal conversation I partake in with the man."

"Good," Tommy said in relief. "I'm not ready for that. I'm not ready for him to hate me."

"How do you know he will?"

"My ex's mother got me expelled from school.  You don't know how people will react," Tommy replied. "I just don't want anything bad to happen to my family just yet. My mum deserves all the happiness she can get and for some reason she loves Steve, so I'm not going to tell him now.  I don't want to ruin it for her."

"I'm sorry, Tom" Graeme said, because he didn't know what else to say.

"And we have nothing in common, but he tries so hard to get o­n with me. I actually find myself enjoying him at times, but sometimes I just think he feels guilty for dragging my mum all the way here so he could be my father o­nly to find out I am certainly not the son he expected. His disappointment is palpable at times."

Graeme patted his friend o­n the back sympathetically. "You must miss home."

"That's the understatement of the year," Tommy agreed. "But enough about my crap life. What the hell is your brother's problem anyway?"

"I don't honestly know," Graeme said. "I think he didn't think my mom could handle another kid 'cos of all the trouble Guy gave her. I mean by sixteen, when I came around he was drinkin' and doing drugs, and staying out and not coming home at all."

"Oh, right, so he was like me, then," Tommy replied as he shut his locker and leaned up against it with a grin.

"No, now he's like you. Then, from what I hear, he was a holy terror that didn't give a fuck about anything. I think Gary thought that I would just be the death of his mother."

"I think that might be why she overacted about your little hangover," Tommy pointed out.

"You're probably right, I should talk to her."

"So what turned Guy into a reasonably well behaved adult type person?" Tommy asked.

Graeme developed a wistful smile o­n his face.

"Oh, I was born. Mom says he changed a lot, and started helping her out. Sobered up quite a bit and actually managed to graduate high school."

"Why?" Tommy asked a bit perplexed.

Graeme shrugged, "Nobody knows but Guy's therapist."