Chapter 54: Taking One For the Team

October 13, 1984

After a meeting among the six of us, we decided to take the following weekend off. It wasn't that big of a deal; it was a rare weekend where our only scheduled gig was on Friday. The lone booking was a show at an off-campus pub; Holly and Annie merely re-booked us for early December. My early ruminations about throwing in the towel quickly faded; as scary as the Ron Wilton situation had been, quitting would have been a gross over-reaction. However, a substantial perspective alteration was definitely in order.

I was, of course, greatly worried about Evie and Inez. For Inez, the situation hearkened back to the Danny crisis. The day after the article came out, I did have a little chat with the two of them that soothed my concerns. Both of the women had come around to the conclusion that the single most realistic attitude to adopt was one of gratitude.

"The bottom line is," Evie declared, "I dodged a bullet. It could have happened to me, but it didn't."

"What you four guys did that night – taking a risk and confronting the asshole like that – may well have kept Evie out of harm's way," pointed out Inez. I smiled appreciatively at her. But inside, I had no desire to be labeled a hero; I too was grateful that nothing untoward had happened to Evie, besides perhaps the scare of her life, that is.

A couple of days later, we got some more information. Paul had done some digging, made some inquiries, and had some details to share with us.

"The first thing I learned," he began, "was that the victim was a female member of another local band."

I just whistled and shook my head, as the others reacted similarly.

"I mean, it figures, right?" Evie said in a fatalistic manner. "What else would you expect?"

"I don't know who she is, and I didn't press to find out," Paul went on. "That information isn't revealed publicly in sexual assault cases. My contact did tell me this, though. He feels certain that the case against Wilton is rock-solid. There were witnesses who spoke up afterward. Even with no criminal history – besides our little Labor Day weekend altercation – it sounds like he's definitely looking at substantial jail time."

"Thank God for that," said Inez. "He's completely out of the picture for a long time."

With every day that went by, things rapidly progressed toward normal, for all of us. On this particular Saturday afternoon, I found myself with absolutely nothing to do, save for studying. The reason for our rare show-less Saturday was a rather innocent one, and a familiar one at that. A relative of the Andrades was having a shower. This time, it was a baby shower. Of course, Inez and Mayra were invited, and had made arrangements well in advance to keep today clear on our calendar. I ended up doing exactly the same thing I'd done the last time an Andrade family shower popped up: I headed over to hang out with Evie, who was likewise bored.

"Really, I'm holding up fine, Pat," Evie said to me, as I asked her how she was doing for the umpteenth time since the Wilton article appeared in the paper. "I'm relieved that he'll be out of sight for the foreseeable future. If I have one lingering issue... " she hesitated, measuring her reply, before going on, "it's that I'm still kicking myself for even being tempted to show an interest in that guy."

"It happens to all of us," was the best reply I could summon.

"The thing is, lately, I've been so damn lonely. Everyone involved with our band is in a relationship except for me. I got sucked in by his fake charm. I'm usually smarter than that."

"Bottom line is, Ev, nothing happened. It never got to the critical point."

"And that is what really matters, I agree." She paused for a moment; I could tell a subject switch into a touchy area was imminent. "I'm gonna tell you something that might shake you up a little, but I think it needs to be said. About when you and I had our little fling before freshman year ... I still believe it was the right thing to do, and ending it when we did was also the right thing. Especially when you consider what's happened since. But the fact of the matter is, ending it was more 'right' for you than it was for me."

That remark sounded an alarm in my mind. I remained silent, allowing her to clarify.

"You know, Pat, ever since we broke up ... no guy has ever treated me the way that you did. Doug seemed to come close, but we know he was a phony. You were able to resolve your feelings ... but I wasn't."

I swallowed hard. What was she getting at?

"I just wanted to tell you that," she went on. "Nothing more, nothing less. Maybe doing so will close the book for me. You know that Inez is my best friend, and there's no one who's a bigger fan of your relationship than I am."

I took a deep breath, relieved beyond words. Evie noticed, for she broke out in a wide grin.

"I told you it might shake you up a little."

"That it did," I laughed, searching inside for my own comments on the matter and not finding any. "You know, Inez and I have you to thank for us getting together in the first place."

"Even more than you know." She winked at me.

"Oh, really?"

"Even before you came back into my life after our long ... estrangement, while Inez was involved with Danny, I told her that the two of you would make a good match. I was kind of half serious, since I was supposed to be pissed at you at the time." She paused to giggle, softly, then grew quiet.

"No need to rehash that, Ev. Water under the bridge, remember?"

"Right," she said unconvincingly, indicating that for her, in a sense, perhaps it was not water under the bridge. I opted to change the subject.

"Would you have still thought about pairing Inez and me up if you knew about all the stuff that happened in the other timeline?"

"I think so. Maybe not right away, but certainly once the two of you got to know each other. It was obvious you two were meant to be together."

We'd gotten sidetracked a little from the primary concern here: Evie's loneliness. I decided to remind her of something, not one hundred percent sure it was a good idea, but opting to play the card anyhow.

"You're lonely now, Ev. But if things go the way they did in my other life ... for you, it's just a matter of waiting."

Evie, despite her logical nature, was a romantic at heart. A faraway look and a dreamy smile lit up her face. "Ah, yes. A year from now, more or less, my knight in shining armor, Vince, will ride up and carry me off into the sunset, or at least Illinois. But you yourself said it ... how do we know that will happen this time? Do I put my whole life on hold, gambling that it will?"

"A tough question. You know, in a way I did you no favors by telling you as much as I did about your life in the other timeline. It's different for Inez and me, since our lives are so unlike what they were in the other life. Neither of us has any desire to recreate our 'other' lives. As a result, we're able to take each day as it comes, just like everyone else, and the foreknowledge is a luxury. You, however, want to recreate your life in the other timeline. This gives you dilemmas no one else has. You have limited flexibility, which ties your hands, I agree."

"Yes. Like this problem: If Vince does show up, how do I act when I meet him? I'd think it would be awkward as hell, knowing what I already know. I may find it impossible to stay on an even keel."

"You'll act naturally. You handle awkward situations better than almost anyone I know. If Fate wants you to be together, it'll work out. Just tell yourself that."

"Okay. But what if, in the next year, I meet another man I really like? Do I pursue that relationship, or take the chance that Vince will come into my life?"

"You know what I think? If that relationship feels right, then go for it. It all comes back to Fate. You'd think that Fate would operate the same across both timelines. But I've been giving that a lot of thought. These timelines are fundamentally different. So why should we expect that Fate would work toward the same result in both? Putting me together with Inez – something that, to me, feels Fate-driven – is certainly a different outcome from before. Again, do what feels right."

"In other words, follow my heart. That was some deep shit, Pat," she said with a laugh. I was relieved to see a return of Evie's sarcastic wit; it signified she was fully back to her usual self.

"We time travelers practically live in deep shit," I pointed out. "There are times when I think I need to invest in a good pair of hip boots."

October 21, 1984

Today, I made a quick early morning run to the store to pick up the Sunday newspaper. Roger Duncan, the Star-Ledger reporter, had done a follow-up article on Lightning in a Bottle.

He'd approached Inez first, as he had the last time. However, she had insisted that this time, all six of us would be allowed to take part in the interview. Duncan had agreed to this, without much objection.

In a sense, more publicity was the last thing any of us wanted, given our recent scare. Even so, we willingly went along with it. The interview went fine, although we discovered that Inez had been right about Duncan: he had the personality of an accountant on sedatives.

However, he'd once again put forth a lengthy, very flattering article. There was one notable passage that grabbed my attention, and I knew it would make an impression on most readers.

The six young members of Lightning in a Bottle are just about the most typical college students on the planet. They are nothing like the hell-raising, hard-partying types who often populate bands of this kind, especially ones who dabble in the summer beach scene. In that respect alone, they are a refreshing novelty.

"We're basically really boring," said bassist Paul Li. "After a show, we normally go right back to our apartments and go to sleep, unless we stop at McDonald's for a late-night snack."

"We aren't into drugs or getting drunk," said drummer Dave Mancuso. "One or two of us might have dabbled in that scene in the past, but now, we're all about the music."

What we have here is a talented band with a degree of wholesomeness that appears to be sincere.

I knew that Dave's comment had been parsed from a more lengthy (and comical) reply he'd given to Duncan, but it still highlighted Dave's continued growth as a person, well beyond what I'd dared to hope for.

"So, we've been labeled paragons of clean living," Inez mused. "I don't know if that's a good thing or a bad thing."

Actually, we couldn't have envisioned the repercussions, not in our wildest imagination.

October 24, 1984

"Dude, you gotta see this!" Dave practically shouted the moment I opened the door in response to his knock. My sister was standing by his side, and he had what appeared to be a newsletter in his hand.

"Christ, Dave," I laughed. "Calm down. Let's see it." I took the item from him and began to look it over. It was, in fact, a newsletter from a particular organization. I did a double-take when I saw the name of the group, right at the top of page one: Crusaders For Morality.

CFM (most everyone referred to them in this manner) was a local organization that was attempting to expand regionally. They had gotten quite a lot of publicity lately as a result of their views, an extreme blend of religious fundamentalism and social conservatism, which most people found objectionable. They sought to spread their message using every possible avenue, and were known for their take-no-prisoners approach in pushing their beliefs on everyone in their path. Coincidentally, I had discussed this group with Inez and Evie just a few days before.

"I believe in God. But these CFM people are nothing but whacko extremists," Inez had declared, putting it quite succinctly.

Now, apparently, I had their latest newsletter in my hands. "Open it to page four," Dave directed me.

I did so, and there, about halfway down the page, was the source of Dave's amusement. There was a brief mention of Lightning in a Bottle ... endorsing us as "wholesome entertainers," based on a couple of eyewitness accounts and "a very nice article by Roger Duncan of the Star-Ledger, which speaks of the unshakable moral fiber of the young people in this musical troupe."

"You hear that?" Dave crowed. "We've got unshakable moral fiber! Unshakable, I tell ya!" He raised his fist and shook it, televangelist-style. Inez, Evie, and Eileen were in hysterics. So was I.

"What do you have to do to be called a 'troupe', anyway?" Dennis threw in with a guffaw of his own. "I'm not sure."

"They must not have seen us play at the beach," Eileen said through continued fits of giggling. "If they'd seen the getups we women sometimes wear, they might view our 'unshakable moral fiber' as being somewhat tarnished."

At practice later, we showed the newsletter to the rest of the gang. More merriment ensued, but when it ended, we addressed the issue seriously. We decided that the most prudent course of action was to have no public response to the CFM endorsement.

It proved to be easier said than done.

October 26, 1984

It was the Friday before Halloween, and as usual, we had a show to put on. Tonight's affair: a Halloween party in the downtown campus gymnasium.

We kicked it into another gear on this night, once again trotting out some new material we'd learned. We'd blown through three sets, and were taking a breather before starting the final set, amid a crowd of students in various costumes engaged in socializing and revelry.

"I never would have guessed it, Pat," said Dave, "but you do a hell of a job singing Prince songs." The others concurred enthusiastically. Once again, I reflected briefly on my other life, and how I was now singing – and playing – songs I'd never have touched the first time.

The next-to-last song in the just-completed set had been Prince's "Let's Go Crazy". Besides the lead vocal, I'd reproduced the solemn intro on my keyboard. Inez, meanwhile, had delivered a couple of scorching guitar solos, and our audience just ate it up. We closed out the set by doing, in honor of Halloween, "Witchy Woman" by The Eagles.

It turned out to be, perhaps, an appropriate means of introducing our next visitor.

She approached me from out of the crowd, a young woman with plain-styled, long blonde hair. She appeared to be wearing a costume, but for the life of me, I couldn't figure out who – or what – she was trying to emulate. She had on a vintage gray and black dress, covering everything but her head, her hands, and her legs below her knees, that appeared to date from the 1950's. She had on a minimum of makeup. No question, she was somewhat pretty, with deep blue eyes. And it became obvious right away that those eyes were focused on me.

Here we go again, I thought. Groupie troubles. But it was more than that.

"Hello, Pat," she said to me with a sickly-sweet smile. "I'm Kathleen Holliday. I'm the student representative for Crusaders For Morality. I trust you read our endorsement for you and your little act here?" I had to fight to keep my jaw from dropping, especially when I realized that was no costume she was wearing. That was her everyday attire!

"I did," I said tersely, not wanting to give her the time of day. However, she chose to ignore the hint.

"I'm a big fan of yours, Pat. The biggest. But I have to say ... I didn't like the words to that last song at all."

"This is a Halloween party," I explained tolerantly, "and we wanted to give them a Halloween-themed song." Oh, please, God, if you really do exist, make her go away, I thought.

"Halloween is Satan's feast," she said disapprovingly. "Celebrating the feast of the prince of darkness is a very serious sin. You really should sing something else, Pat. Why don't you try something like 'Moon River'? God gave you a wonderful instrument. I can hear a lot of Andy Williams in your voice."

At that, I cast a quick sideways glance, and caught Dave practically in tears, trying to fight back laughter. "Andy Williams?" he mouthed silently. I made a quick slashing motion across my throat, and then turned to face Kathleen. She was batting her eyelashes at me adoringly.

"You have the most handsome blue eyes I've ever seen," she said in that same voice, just dripping with overdone, singsong sweetness. At that, I turned and glanced at Inez, who was taking in this scene with raised eyebrows.

That's when Kathleen became aware of Inez's presence. In a split second, she changed faces. She strode over to my girlfriend, offering her hand. "And you must be Inez!" she squealed. "How nice to meet you as well!"

Inez, simply too nice to raise a stink in a public setting, reluctantly shook her hand. But she shot me a look that said, Just give me a chance, and I'll wring this girl's neck. Coming on to me in front of Inez had been Kathleen's first mistake. She was about to make her second.

Kathleen walked around, introducing herself to the others. However, she very conspicuously snubbed Evie. The reason was obvious to everyone: Little Miss Bible Thumper was less than accepting of the shade of Evie's complexion.

All that, and she's a racist, too? I thought in wonder.

In response to the snub, Evie shot a look at me that meant one thing: the Evie we'd seen that day at my house, when she'd reduced young Heather to tears, was about to return in full force.

"That's a lovely dress you're wearing, Kathleen," Evie purred, mimicking to perfection the false sweetness in Kathleen's voice. "Are you in the theater group? If not, you really should check it out. I hear they're working on a 'Little House on the Prairie' re-enactment almost as we speak." Everyone lost it, and naturally, Dave proceeded to pile it on even more.

"C'mon, Ev, give the poor girl a break. That's not a 'Little House' look. I think it's more in line with 'The Waltons'. There's a big difference between a fifty-year-old dress and a hundred-year-old one."

"I hardly think – " Kathleen huffed, but she was interrupted by Dennis, who'd been doing a between-set sound check and had taken all of this in. He couldn't wait to stick his oar in.

"Hey, Kathy," chortled Dennis, "we're having a little party after the show. Just to take the edge off. Wanna join us?" Of course, there was no party planned; he was just aiming to further rile her up.

"That's Kath-leen," she replied indignantly. "And again, I don't think –" This time, it was Dave who cut her off.

"Hey, bro," he said to Dennis, a hush-hush look on his face,"you bringing the coke to the party?"

Dennis looked at each of us before replying; his expression alone made me bust out laughing. "Sure, dude. You want a couple of twelve-packs, or some two-liter bottles?" All of us were in stitches at that point.

"C'mon, guy," Dave said, playing along further, waving his hands around in a you-get-my-drift manner. "It's a rave, remember? We need the good stuff. Know what I mean?"

Kathleen had had enough. "Well ... I never!" she declared, glancing at me before turning to storm off in a huff.

"You're right," I called after her. "Remember that. You never will."

We figured Kathleen would flee the premises after all that. She didn't, however. She took her position not far from the stage, not budging an inch, just glaring at us. Before we began the final set, I called everyone into the equivalent of a football huddle. Playing the role of quarterback, I drew up the play.

"I think this situation calls for a complete re-working of this set. Remember those three songs we did in a row at practice last week, just for shits and giggles?"

Inez was the first to catch on. "Aah. I see what you're getting at." The others quickly followed.

"Brilliant, dude," Dave said admiringly. "I say we get it on."

We started the set with "Heartbreaker". Our plan kicked into action with the next tune. Eileen sang lead on Cyndi Lauper's "She Bop", a song full of masturbation references, as risqué a set of lyrics as my sister had ever sung. We followed it up with a traditional favorite of ours, but one continuing on the same track: "Dancing With Myself" by Billy Idol. When we finished that one, I casually tossed out to the crowd, "There's a common theme here, wouldn't you say?" As Kathleen continued to look on impassively, I added, "Let's continue the theme." From there, we launched into "Turning Japanese". At song's end, I spoke loudly into the mike, "That concludes our three-song ode to self-gratification." Laughter filled the gym; Kathleen remained expressionless.

Too bad it isn't the early nineties, I thought. "I Touch Myself" by The Divinyls would have been in play.

We followed with two relatively innocent recent additions to our set list. "Missing You" came first, followed by John Cafferty's "On The Dark Side". Then, we veered back into suggestive lyrics territory with a song we knew but had rarely done live, Duran Duran's "Hungry Like The Wolf". At the end, Inez walked over to me. "You know," she whispered into my ear, "how do you think Miss Goody Two Shoes would have reacted if I'd have supplied a few orgasmic moans like in the recorded version?"

"Damn," I said with a smile. "Too late. We didn't think of that."

Now, it was time to end the show with a classic one-two punch aimed at wreaking havoc on Ms. Holliday's hypocritical, self-righteous 'sensibilities.' We went right into "Magic Man", as Inez and I added in more bumping and more grinding than we'd ever done before. Then, for only the second time live, we did "Paradise By The Dashboard Light", a raw, no-holds-barred rendition if there ever was one. Kathleen stuck around until the very end; we watched her leave as we said our final good night to our appreciative audience. The departing look on her face was impossible to read.

"You know," I said to the gang a little later, "I don't begrudge Kathleen her views. She's entitled to them. What I do have an issue with is the way she acts all high and mighty, and yet has no problem with coming on to me even though she knows I'm spoken for. And then there's the way she treated Evie. She deserved everything she got tonight."

November 5, 1984

With my last class for the day over and done with, I swung by the student center. Right by the front door, a table had been set up. A line of people, about ten or so in length, snaked away from the table. I took my place at the end of the line, waiting my turn. The line moved fast, and I soon found myself at the front. I greeted Derek, who was seated behind the table; he introduced me to his two friends and business partners.

The long-awaited pin-up calendar had made its debut, and was now available for purchase.

"How's it going?" I said to Derek. "Looks like sales are brisk."

"Much better than we expected," he said with a satisfied grin. "It's a good thing we printed up a lot more than we projected to move. We're getting some reactions from people, too. Mostly good, but we've ruffled a few feathers, too. We had a reporter from the school newspaper sniffing around here, too. Guess who she was?"

"Who?" I asked curiously.

"Helen McAndrew."

"Oh shit. Not her." Helen McAndrew, I knew, was a provocative student columnist whose editorials never failed to inflame and polarize. She put forth a weekly column that was a must-read for many. In spite of this, many took exception to the sarcastic, biting tone her editorials often displayed. On top of that, she was an ardent, card-carrying feminist; it wasn't hard to figure out why she'd zeroed in Derek and his friends' little project.

"If she's onto this, it can't be good," I added with concern.

Derek just shrugged. "As Super Chicken used to say to Fred ... I knew this job was dangerous when I took it."

Given that my own childhood was a bit farther back in time than Derek's, even though we both appeared to be the same age, the reference was lost on me at first. Then, I got it, and gave a hearty laugh.

"Old TV cartoon references. Gotta love it."

"Here's another one for ya. I heard Sweet Polly Purebred was making eyes at you the other night."

I laughed again. "Okay, Underdog. And her name's Kathleen Holliday. Let's just say that we dealt with her." Just then, I picked up a calendar, and casually opened it.

There, facing the page for January, was Annie as I'd never seen her. It was a full-length body shot; she appeared to be reclining on a sofa, her head propped up with her hand. Derek had promised no nudity, and he'd been technically correct. But she was showing a lot of skin. She was clad in a peach-colored negligee with just enough in the way of undergarments to keep the shot from being pornographic. One's eye was immediately drawn to her legs, fully bare and spread out on the couch. Her long, straight black hair was tucked away behind her ear on one side, but allowed to hang unconfined on the other. Annie also clearly possessed one feature that went against the stereotype for Asian women: cleavage. Above the photo was a brief blurb containing personal information: Annie Nakamura, junior, majoring in communications. Also mentioned prominently was the fact that "Annie is co-manager of the popular cover band Lightning in a Bottle."

I paid Derek for the calendar, and headed directly for my girlfriend's place.

"Oh, wow!" Inez exclaimed upon viewing the calendar. "I have to admit, I was a little worried about this, but Annie looks beautiful!"

Evie came over and also took a look. "I agree. That's a great shot."

I looked a question at her.

"Yes, I've come around a little," Evie smiled. "Hearing Kath-leen preach at us the other night made me think about it a little more. And this really is a nice picture."

November 7, 1984

I met Holly again for lunch today; this was becoming somewhat of a Wednesday tradition, as we both had classes in the vicinity right before lunch time. Right away, we got to talking about the calendar.

"I do think it's a beautiful shot of Annie," she assured me. "She makes a great model, and Derek is a fantastic photographer. Derek, ya know, he loves to joke around, but he really does care about her. I know he wouldn't do anything to make her uncomfortable. I did tell Annie, though, that her life may change for awhile, and in fact, it's started already."

"Uh oh. What happened?"

"While she was walking to class yesterday, she heard a couple of people shout out, 'Slut!'"

"That's probably nothing more than jealousy."

"Yeah," Holly concurred, "but I heard that Helen McAndrew was asking questions about the calendar. I know Helen a little, and this is worrisome."

I remained silent but curious, allowing her to continue.

"Helen is in the campus group I belong to. She's also an 'out' lesbian. But the thing is, she's very bitter about a lot of things. And you know how extreme her views can be. It's pretty obvious that she's aiming to make the calendar the focus of her next column. And if she does, it could get ugly. You see, she has a group of followers that hang on her every word. If she riles them up, look out."

November 9, 1984

On Friday night, before our gig at an on-campus pub, the situation escalated a bit.

For starters, we didn't even make it into the joint before we were confronted by a few of the Crusaders for Morality zealots. They were wielding signs which read "Lightning in a Bottle: Supporters of Pornography", and the like. They began shouting at us as we went inside.

"I guess this means they retracted their endorsement," laughed Dave. "They don't love us any more. Boo hoo hoo!"

And on top of that, while we were setting up, who should appear but the notorious Helen McAndrew. She quickly made a beeline in my direction. After tersely introducing herself, she put forth her first question.

"I understand your co-manager posed for the pin-up calendar that's on sale, the one featuring Rutgers women. How do you feel about that?"

"I supported her participation. So did the rest of us. Proceeds from the sale of that calendar are going to benefit abused women. Make sure that gets mentioned in your article," I told her mildly.

She then made the rounds, speaking to the others, wearing the same serious, no-nonsense expression. Strangely, her demeanor changed when she spoke to Evie; a smile actually appeared to cross her face. After Helen split the scene, the rest of us gathered around Evie, wondering what that was all about.

"You won't believe what she did," Evie explained, with an uncomfortable look on her face. "She ... asked me out on a date."

None of us dared reply, "Did you accept?" We all knew Evie well enough to know that she didn't swing that way. Dave, however, had a retort of his own, one which regrettably went beyond the bounds of decorum.

"Come on, Ev," he joshed. "Take one for the team, why don't ya?"