"No, douche, you just do the 'jacket' parts! I'm supposed to do the main lyrics."
"Why can't we both do them?" Hank asked.
"'Cause, I'm the front man. I'm the one all the chicks come to see." Dermott crossed his arms over his bare chest. "'You play in the background while they admire my sweet pecs."
"Uh, which pecs would those be?" Triana asked. She'd been floating in the direction of the Orpheus apartment when the sounds of bass guitar and shouting had caught her ear, and she'd peeked into one of the compound's many abandoned garages to find a practice session by none other than the so-cool-nobody's-even-heard-of-them band Shallow Gravy.
"Dude, see, it worked!" Dermott said. "Every time we play this, goth chicks are just gonna come in and want to bang us."
Triana raised an eyebrow. She hadn't quite perfected the loser-into-frog spell yet, but she could always use the practice.
"Aw, that's just Triana," Hank said. "Hey, Triana! Dean's not around."
"I didn't come to see Dean. I'm visiting Dad for the weekend. Thought I'd say hi."
"Killer floating effect," Dermott observed. "I can do that too. I have to meditate for like, three days beforehand, though, to purge my chi."
"Riight," Triana said. "I just use magic."
"That's cool, I guess," Dermott said with a shrug.
"Wow, can you do other stuff like that?" Hank asked excitedly. "Like, could you make flames appear in the shape of a skull?"
"Probably."
"Sweet! I think we just found someone to handle our special effects!"
"Whoa, I don't think I have time for--" Triana began.
"We're prepared to offer you a very generous deal," Hank said seriously. "Three bucks per show, unlimited autographs from the band, and all the HankCo. concessions you can eat."
"Dude, what are you doing?" Dermott shouted. "You can't just hire people without asking me. Especially not chicks. She'll probably put, like, Hello Kitty and crap all over everything."
"Well, then, who's gonna do the special effects?"
"You, duh!"
"Aww, but it's too hard!"
"Yeah," Dermott scoffed, "that's what your mother said when I was, like, nailing her last night."
"You know, maybe I could help out," Triana said, "as a favor to you." She looked pointedly at Hank.
"Good," Hank said. "You don't have to decide now. There are several untouched boxes of cold HankCo. pizza on the counter. Please, take them with no obligation, as our gift to you."
"Thanks," Triana laughed. Hank could be a dork, but he was all right -- not like that big lump he was hanging around with now. "If you've got any shows lined up this weekend, give me a call."
She snagged the pizza -- it was cold pepperoni, and there was almost a whole pizza left; HankCo didn't exactly get a lot of customers.
I should be getting over to my dad's place, but...
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