“Look,” Owen said, “the truth is, after you left yesterday, I was really pissed off. I mean, I’m human, right?” “You are,” I agreed. “I really only wanted to get a good look at him. That was all. And I knew he sometimes plays with that shitty Perkins Day band that was in a showcase last night at Bendo, so I figured he might be there. And he was. Which, really, when you think about it, is despicable. What kind of a person goes to a club—to see a shitty band, no less—the night before he’s due in court? It’s—” “Owen,” I said.
