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“I hear this rrrrrrnnnnn-nnnn-nnnnn, and I think, Oh shit, man. They are revving this baby up. I started thinking about all the things I’ve never done, like surf or get a tattoo or tell my mom off. Mostly I think that I’ve never gotten to be myself. Ever. I hear that rrrrrnnnn-nnn-NNNN-nnn near my ear, and I vowed to myself, Dude, if you make it out of this alive, you are going to do it, whatever it is. The big guys wrap their paws around my throat. Parker pulls out a razor, lowers it to my head. And thirty seconds later, I’m a Mohawk man.”
He pops the top on a warm can of soda. “People went insana! They’re shouting my name, ‘Gon-zo! Gon-zo! Gon-zo!’ And they’re passing me around over their heads. It was, like, the greatest day of my life. And then I just … disappeared.”
Gonzo guzzles soda. He wipes his mouth on his arm.
“Wow. That’s … wow. And the tattoo?” I ask.
“First thing I did when I left the chair. Me and Drew.”
It bothers me that Gonzo’s got a new friend, somebody who sounds a lot cooler than me.
“So, I guess you’re all famous now, huh?” I say.
“Yeah. Guess so.” He beams again, drinks his soda.
“You saved me, my son,” Balder says, embracing Gonzo. “You fought with honor. You are truly Gonzo the Great.”
Gonzo blushes. “Gonzo the Great. Sweet. I’m getting me a T-shirt with that on it soon as we hit a mall.”
Balder gives Gonzo a fist bump. “Word.”
There’s a knock on the door, and my pulse zooms into the red zone again. Maybe it is the cops this time. Gonzo must think it’s Santa, from the shit-eating grin he’s sporting. He runs to open it. Drew’s standing there in a white muscle tee, a mop of dirty blond hair framing his choirboy face. His arms are inked from his wrists to his biceps.
“Hey,” Drew says. He shoves his hands in his pockets and gives us a wary nod.
“It’s okay. They’re cool,” Gonzo says. Drew leans down and gives him a kiss right on the mouth. I’ve never seen Gonzo so happy. I swear it’s like he’s just gotten a brand-new inhaler with Captain Carnage sticker decals. And now I know: Drew isn’t a threat to our friendship. He’s something else entirely.
“Hey, Drew. Cameron,” I say, shaking his hand so he knows I’m okay with the whole You’re My Best Friend’s Slightly Juvenile-Delinquentish Spring Break Boyfriend.
“I was just telling them about last night,” Gonzo says.
“Aw, man,” Drew says in a thick Southern drawl. “Y’all shoulda seen my boy, here. Nerves of steel. He eats fear for breakfast.”
“Yeah, that’s our Gonzo,” I say, without missing a beat. “He’s a wild man.”
“A warrior spirit,” Balder chimes in.
“Hey, you must be Balder. Cool. I brought this for you. Freebie from the show,” he says, handing off a camera. Balder’s eyes gleam with mischief.
We step out blinking into the new day. Something’s going on at the Party House, because there must be forty camera crews lined up, and hordes of people are streaming toward the stage.
“What’s going on?” I ask a passing guy. He’s wearing a shirt that says, MY PARENTS WENT TO SHITHENGE AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS CRAPPY T-SHIRT.
“You haven’t heard?” he says excitedly. “No. What’s up?”
“The Copenhagen Interpretation!” he shouts, racing on. “They’re back!”
CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE
In Which the World’s Most Famous Band Plays the Most Important Comeback Concert Ever
With the news of the Copenhagen Interpretation’s sudden reappearance, the Party House is complete pandemonium. Practically every camera in the state is trained on the stage where the band is scheduled to talk to the world for the first time in eleven years. Because of Gonzo’s new celebrity status, we’re able to push our way to the front.
“That’s right, I’m bad,” Gonzo singsongs. Drew laughs and wraps him in his tattooed arms. He gives Gonz a big kiss and the Gonz-man gets all blushy.
Reporters flank out along the front of the stage down in the security area. They hold their mikes and stare into the cameras as if they’re filing the most important news stories of their lives.
“… no clue yet as to where they’ve been, why they disappeared, and why they’ve come back at this moment, in this place …”
