After all I wanted to be a blues player. If they did something, so should I. Of course I was grounded. Nineteen years old about to head to college and...I was being held captive like a twelve year old. My guitar I had hidden at a friends house so they didn’t have it to hold as ransom for my good behavior. I didn’t need it by now anyway. Just running my hands across anything and I could hear the tunes. An old spelling bee trophy became my sweet sounding black bodied Gibson guitar. Night after. "Jerry laughed again, then a meaty slap echoed off the club's wall,followed by surprised, "Ouch!"They approached the convertible parked next to Nathan's Firebird. Nathanclosed his eyes pretending he was asleep, his heart thudding like asledge hammer. He heard a door open, then Celeste's chain clanked, andthe door closed. A few seconds later he heard a thump, probably causedby Jerry jumping into the driver seat."Come on babe, I have an itch." Jerry must have been grinning."You can't be serious.. More

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