Something silly that stemmed from some still shots from the show... Not my favorite. As a whole it did not quite turn out as I had hoped, and I kind of wrote myself into a silly hole, but it's written, so now it's posted. :/

Early on a Wednesday evening, Angela shows up to the loft looking to meet up with Jordan as they'd arranged. On the sidewalk outside the street entrance to the building she stumbles upon Joey and Shane shouting at each other. They're blocking the double doors and Angela stops short, uncertain of how to proceed. Nervously she says a quiet hello as the boys continue shouting. "Hey…"

Although the mood is heavy and intense, and Shane and Joey really are pissed at each other, the overt hostility they're displaying is not all consuming, and Shane pulls out of the argument just quick enough to vaguely acknowledge her. "Hey, Angela."

But Angela Chase entering the scene has done nothing to distract Joey. He continues, "Are you kidding, Man? I'll kill you."

"I don't think so," Shane fires back. The two boys move in to throw punches. Angela looks very unsure of how to proceed — does she get out of the way, does she get out of there all together? Additionally she's not entirely sure how real this is; is this an overly aggressive but fundamentally fraternal brawl, or are these two actually going to kill each other?

The matter is further muddled for her when Joey lunges in at Shane and for dramatic effect throws down his half drunk beer can, which flies at Angela, who catches it as it partially spills on her. At a loss for what else to do she holds the can upright and moves further away from the boys as Joey swings at Shane.

"Hey!" a deep and authoritative voice commands from nowhere. "Break it up!" Two police officers, one of whom — the one speaking — Angela recognizes, approach with flashlights in hand. "What's going on?" the officer interrogates. The boys freeze, Angela moves backwards. The officer looks from Joey to Shane to Angela then back to the boys, surveying the scene; "There a problem?"

Joey shakes off the fight, readjusts his shirt, and plays it cool for the cops, "Everything's great."

The officer shines his light in the boys' faces, and then into Angela's, asking her, "You alright?"

"She's fine," Shane answers for her.

"Hey!" The officer turns on Shane, "Talk when you're spoken to. Otherwise, shut up." He then turns back to Angela. "You. I know you?" Caught off guard with that one, the boys' brows furrow.

"Uh…" Angela's too nervous to articulate anything more than this.

"What's that?" the officer prompts, still shining the light in her face.

"You, uh," she starts again, glancing from the officer to Shane and Joey, "you gave me a ride home, once."

"'A ride home'?" he repeats in confusion. Half a moment later his eyes narrow in recognition; "Anne Frank girl?" She nods and Joey snorts in condescending derision and disbelief, Chase would be friends with a cop. The light's now shining in his eyes. "These your friends?" the officer asks her; he doesn't mask his disapproval. "What'd I say 'bout staying out of trouble."

Joey wants out of this and he takes this connection between the cop and Angela as his cue to reason their way out of it. "Look, everything's cool. We're cool. She's cool—"

"Shut up," says the second officer.

"You been drinking?" the first officer asks, looking around.

"No." It's Shane who answered this time.

But Shane's declarative 'No' is countered when the officer shines the light on the empty beer cans at their feet; he then sees the one still in Angela's hands. "Okay." Now this is happening and he turns to Angela, "What's your name?"

Softly she answers, "Angela."

"Okay, Angela, dump it." She doesn't move. Her mind's racing too quickly for her to immediately catch his meaning. "The beer. Dump it." Still a little confused, Angela tips the can over and slowly pours out what liquid is left. When she's finished, he speaks to his partner. "Okay, get 'em in the car."

"What for?" Shane challenges.

"You gonna tell me you're twenty-one?" queries the partner as he steps in. "Open container. Disorderly conduct—" he pauses as he looks down at his watch, he waits for a moment... then proceeds, "Breaking curfew."

"I'm calling it in," says the first officer officiously as he turns back to their vehicle.

"Come on!" Joey indignantly objects.

"Okay, Miss," the second police officer approaches Angela and cover's her head as he guides her into the backseat. She's gone pale and is so alarmed at this point she's having trouble reacting.

"What're you doing?" Shane questions. "She didn't do anything." He continues his protest as Angela is put into the backseat of the patrol car. "Give her a breathalyzer. She doesn't drink."

"Hey—" the first officer says as he gets right in Shane's face, "keep it up."

Angela looks stricken and Shane calls out to her in an attempt to calm her. "Angela—"

"Kid, get in the vehicle," the partner says as he herds Shane to the door.

"This is bogus," Shane mutters as he too is guided backwards into the squad car.

"This is bullshit," Joey spits as next he is put into the car.

"Watch the mouth," the second officer chides as he shuts the door on them and moves round the back of the vehicle to the passenger seat.

Now sitting beside her Shane looks over to Angela, "Don't sweat it. It's gonna be fine."

"Hey," Joey interjects with cold mockery, "she's cool; she knows the cop. 'He gave her a ride.'" He looks Angela over, "Right?"

She can only say one thing: "Are we under arrest?"

Shane shrugs, then adds, "Won't stick."

The police officer puts down his radio and shifts the car into drive; looking back at them through the rearview mirror as he does, he informs them, "We'll call your parents at the station."

Angela's head drops into her hands, "Oh God."

Joey looks at her with amused contempt, "You do know that you didn't do anything?" Angela does not respond.

Joey notes her lack of movement and looks to the officers upfront feigning concern, "I think she's DNR." He leans into her, crossing Shane to do so, "Hey."

Dully, Angela speaks into her hands, "My parents are going to kill me."

"Again," Joey inserts like he's reasoning with an idiot, "you didn't do anything."

"I don't think they'll see it that way," Angela laments.

"Plead the innocent bystander," contributes Shane.

"Think it's who I was 'standing by'."

Shane's looking for clarification, but 's pretty sure that was just a remark at his and Joey's expense, "What's that mean?"

Tired and dispirited Angela walks them through it: "I was there waiting for Jordan. You're Jordan's friends. And I'm grounded. At the very least."

Settling back into the seat, Shane's chin lifts into the air as he shuts his eyes and remarks, "J said your folks were intense."

Angela scoffs, "'Intense'? You think being grounded for being arrested — or whatever this is — is intense?"

"Well," Shane casually reflects, "yeah. I mean, this is all total," he raises his voice for the benefit of the officers, "BS — It's not your fault if they can't see it."

Angela turns her face toward her reinforced window, this conversation isn't helping at all.

"What're they gonna say?" Joey asks rhetorically.

Angela shuts her eyes, blocking out her view from the backseat of a patrol car, thinking, Everyone who knows my parents know want they're going to say...

"Angela," Graham says sternly once they're back home from the police precinct and seated around the dining table, "what were you doing in that neighborhood?"

"I was meeting Jordan." Angela's response is devoid of any emotion. She isn't particularly in the wrong, but their response to picking her up from the police station is exactly what she'd known it would be, and she's being careful to watch her tone so as not to further provoke them. She's cognizant that what she's said so far did little to answer her father's question and before she further antagonizes them she extrapolates, "His band practices there."

"I thought you said they practice in someone's garage," Patty catches.

Angela nods. "Tino's. They do. Sometimes."

"And this place...?" Patty prompts.

"It's a loft. They rent it. They rehearse there so neighbors don't complain." She looks to them, "It's not a big deal. I've been there before."

"Actually," Patty says, looking to Graham for agreement, "everything you just said: high school boys renting their own private space, no neighbors around, that's all a big deal. Also, considering we've been under the impression — delusion, apparently — that we know where you are when you're out of the house, and yet this is the first we're hearing about this loft." Of course, Patty had heard about the loft. Months earlier while listening in on a phone conversation, but she could hardly admit to it now, and she had not known that Angela was going there, nor would she have imagined, as now seems to be the case, that it is rented out to a bunch of teenagers.

"You've been there before?" Graham clarifies, also not liking the sound of any of this.

Her answer is flat and unprovocative in tone, if not in content, "Tons." Angela tucks her hair. "It's fine."

"Why don't you let us decide what is 'fine'" her father amends.

"First of all," Patty starts in again, "that is not a good neighborhood."

"What are you talking about?" Angela's still being careful not to come across as giving attitude or as being difficult, but she is going to make her case and undercut her parents' hyperbolic reactions if she can. "The print shop is like, three blocks away. 'Not a good neighborhood?' What do you think is going to happen?"

"Look at what did happen," Patty points out starkly.

"But that had nothing to do with it. That was just them. That could have happened anywhere," Angela argues.

"You're not helping your case any," Graham points out.

Patty confirms this, "No."

"So," Angela looks from her mother to her father, "what? Am I in trouble?"

"I think that's a safe bet," says Graham. "Seeing as we just sprung you from the big house." Angela rolls her eyes.

"That's not fair. I wasn't doing anything."

"'Wrong place in the wrong time'," Patty suggests, to which Angela nods. But this turns out to have been a trick as Patty retorts with, "But you chose to be in that 'wrong place'. Those boys are people you chose to be around." Angela initially starts to protest that she hadn't been there to hang with Shane and Joey, but then questions the prudence of totally denying Jordan's friends, lest that should disable her in any future negotiations. Patty simultaneously cuts her off with, "They're Jordan's friends: you hang around him, you hang around them. Right?" Angela has to concede. And now she's getting nervous, 'How far is this going? Is everything, Jordan and all of it, about to be renegotiated?' Patty registers Angela's dismay and she speaks to her with purpose, "Angela, we like Jordan. He's a nice enough kid, BUT, we were worried from the start what you dating him would lead to."

"Meaning?"

Graham steps in, "He's older. He has a car. And apparently an apartment."

"It's not an apartment—"

"He drinks," Patty adds.

Before Angela can get out a rebuttal Graham's lengthening the list, "He smokes."

Angela again begins a protest — she's actually gone to great lengths to keep Jordan's smoking from her parents — but once more her efforts are thwarted before she forms an actual word: "Oh, Angela, don't even bother." Angela closes her mouth. And apparently Patty's not finished listing the Catalano grievances; "His friends get into fights that end with you reeking of alcohol and getting pulled into the police station," brow arched, she looks at Angela, essentially challenging her to deny this.

Angela cannot exactly, so she skips past it and goes on defense, "He wasn't there. Why is he getting the blame for this?"

"No," Patty interjects with crisp assurance, "that's you."

"Well, why wasn't he there?" Graham asks, getting a little sidetracked. "If you're meeting him, in this part of town—"

"At night," Patty inserts.

"Right. Then, why isn't he there to meet you?" Both Graham and Patty look to Angela for a response.

"Why are you 'meeting' him at all?" But they've already been round and round this argument before, and Angela will avoid it now if she can.

Angela is momentarily stumped by how to proceed by way of addressing Graham and Patty's concerns; when she does speak her voice is steady and reasonable, "I don't know where he was. He could have been inside the whole time." She looks at them, "This was not his fault."

Patty's brows raise, "You going to tell us this kind of thing would have happened if you were hanging out with Sharon. Or Brian Krakow?"

"Wait," Angela stops the conversation; "What's happening? Are you forbidding me to see him?" And why had her mother said Brian's name like she had? Her parents look at each other. They don't know that they'd meant for the conversation to get that far. They shift gears and slow it down.

"We're concerned," Patty states. "We don't want you to grow up too quickly."

"I'm fine."

"Honey," Graham says, "you're not."

"Look, it happened. I'm fine. I'm not fundamentally changed." She looks them both in the eye, trying to reassure them with her most reasonable approach; "Whether I hang out with them or not, it already happened."

Those were not the right words; immediately Graham counters with, "What's going to happen next time?"

After a pause Angela says plainly, "I'll still be okay." After which she adds, "I'm not a baby."

"I don't think that's what we said," Patty says.

Quiet. After a moment Angela lifts her head and asks, "So? What now? Am I grounded?"

Patty sighs and thinks hard before she decides on what to say. "Angela, you are not to drink. Do you understand that?"

"I wasn't. I don't." Angela's eyes narrow, "Do you believe me? _ You can ask anyone." She continues, adding, "They'll tell you the truth. They won't lie for me — Jordan's friends."

Graham scratches his head, "I actually don't know if I find that comforting."

Angela attempts to explain herself, "They'd just think it was funny."

Patty skips over this to what has been bothering her, "Why were they fighting?"

"I don't know."

Patty looks at her, "Was it anything to do with you?"

Angela laughs; the absurdity of this notion demands it — Shane, who could pretty much take her or leave her, and Joey, who's warmed to her even less, fighting over her: "Mom, no. Not at all. No."

"So what was it about?" her mother persists.

"I don't know. Nothing. It wasn't anything."

"See," Graham says to her, "Your definition of 'not anything' doesn't actually leave us with a load of confidence."

"That's right," confirms Patty. "The police obviously thought it was something."

"Or is this just par for the course? So this could happen again."

"It only happened 'cuz I was there."

Patty's brow furrows, "Explain."

Angela sounds a little bored of explaining what should have seemed straightforward but she curbs her tone because she does not want to find herself on their bad side. "Two guys fighting with a girl standing there, they just came to check it out. When they saw the beer they took us in." She reiterates: "I was not drinking."

"So, what you're saying is the problem was that you were there." Patty looks to Graham, "Sounds like we're in agreement."

"I hope you can see why we're having a hard time not thinking something's not a big deal when the police officers thought it was a big deal. Are you hearing us?"

"Yes."

"Do you take our meaning?" Patty looks at Angela for confirmation.

"Yes."

"From now on, if you're going somewhere with Jordan, you're going there with Jordan. No more 'I'm meeting him there.' And you are not to be around alcohol. At all. I mean it. I'm not saying 'you not drinking it', I'm saying, 'it's there, you're not'."

Angela can tell Patty means business, but still she asks, "Is that realistic?"

"I think it is," is Patty's flat response. "Are you telling us it's not?" This question was loaded and Angela tries her best to turn it back on them.

"So I'm not allowed to go to parties? To see Jordan play with his band?"

"If that's what that means," Patty says to her evenly.

"Probably shouldn't 'a mentioned he had his own apartment," Graham points out.

"It's not—" Angela begins to amend.

"It have keys, and a lock?" Graham poses. Angela says nothing and Graham knows what that means. Graham looks around for rhetorical effect, "Anyone take the time to tell these kids they're just seventeen?" Angela wisely suppresses an eye roll. They all let it rest there for the time being.

The phone rings. No one makes a move to pick it up, but eyes follow the source of the sound. The ringing stops and momentarily they hear Danielle calling down from the landing above, "Angela! Phone."

Angela looks to her parents for a reprieve, "I need to explain what happened; he must've been waiting." They look at each other then exhale and wave her off. Angela rises and heads upstairs to take the phone from her sister.

"Two minutes," Patty calls after her.

After hanging up with Angela once he was finally able to get ahold of her, Jordan looks around the empty loft. Great.

He looks up when the wide door to the loft opens and in comes Shane, newly released and returned to retrieve his jacket and keys. Jordan, irritated already from sitting around guessing and worrying as he waited for more than an hour for Angela, now having just heard the story, stands and confronts his friend, and's somewhat aggressive as he does so, "What happened?"

Shane shrugs, being pretty blasé about it. He does not give Jordan his full attention as he packs up Joey's bass and searches for his house keys. "Nuthin' happened."

"She got arrested," Jordan emphasizes.

"So did I. And Joe. And," he says as he snaps closed the guitar case, "it's not like they booked her. They didn't take her prints or anything."

Jordan's not getting sidetracked, "You let her get arrested."

"'Let'?" Shane scoffs. "What exactly should I've done?"

"Spoken up."

"We did, Man. You argue with Officer Hard-Ass. _ Anyway, she wreaked of beer."

Jordan's brow creases, "How's that possible?"

Shane stretches and scratches his head as he answers, barely taking note of his friend's almost seething countenance, "We threw a beer at her."

"Why's that?" Jordan sternly interrogates.

"Well, it wasn't exactly at 'er," Shane amends. Jordan's eyes flash in his direction and look sharply at him, but Shane's expression is blank — now that it's over he doesn't have much interest in rehashing the details.

Still pissed Jordan turns and paces a step, "I can't believe this."

"It's fine," Shane sounds bored again; "It'll go away."

Jordan 's dubious as he paces, "We'll see…"

"The girl's not scarred," Shane shrugs dispassionately. "C'mon, let's get out of here."

The next morning at school Angela gets off the bus with Brian. They begin making their way towards class when there's a tug on her backpack and she's pulled back from moving forward. Jordan's behind her playfully holding onto her backpack loop. "Hey, you," he says, mimicking an officer in pursuit, "Freeze."

Angela turns to him, tucking her hair, "Hey."

Brian too stops and Jordan gives him a head nod. "'D'ya hear the word?" Jordan poses to Brian. "Jailbird"; Jordan teases as he play-wrings Angela's neck.

Brian nods, but he doesn't see much humor in it, "Yeah."

Angela too isn't all that amused, "I hadn't," she says as she pushes hair away from her face as Jordan releases her, "exactly planned on telling the world."

Jordan tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear for her as he leans in intimately, smiling and teasing her, "They cuff you?" He cocks an eyebrow at her as he grins.

Angela pushes at him, "It wasn't funny."

Jordan soberly agrees, "I know." He'd been pretty upset about it the night before, but he figured Angela already had the tendency to overreact, and so Jordan, never one to pile on the drama, had decided to approach it from a different tact. If it wasn't treated like a big deal, maybe it wouldn't turn out to be one. Anyway, it is incredibly difficult for him to figure out what her parents will and will not react to; it isn't always as clear cut as he might have originally guessed. But her parents not included, Jordan himself didn't like what happened. Angela was never meant to be collateral damage. Her fear of cops was supposed to carry on as some kind of endearing joke, not end up with her in the backseat of a squad car with Shane and Joey. He looks at her, elbowing her, "You okay?"

"I'm fine," she says, "I don't know about—"

"'Bout Patty and Graham Chase," he finishes for her.

"Mm, hm," she nods.

Jordan, who'd never thought it was a joke in the first place, looks to her for the fallout, "What'd they say? 'Grounded'? 'Disappointment'?"

"'Irresponsible'. 'Untrustworthy,'" she contributes.

Jordan nods knowingly, "'Shape up'?"

"Uh, something like that. Try 'Bad influence.'"

"Who?" Jordan didn't see anything good coming from this, but he didn't see that one coming. Angela wordlessly points at him. "Me?" He looks from her to Brian for friendly validation; "Wasn't even there." But Brian, having nothing he chooses to contribute, only purses his lips. Jordan's eyes squint as he turns back to Angela, trying to get this straight, "So," he asks in detached disbelief, "I'm really getting the blame for this?" Angela's nose crinkling serves as silent confirmation. Jordan's eyes roll involuntarily. He can't believe this. He looks back at her, "Ya grounded?"

"Probation."

"Whatever that means." Jordan had been ready to let it go but he picks it back up again, "'Probation' from what? Being in the wrong place at the wrong time? They got an answer for that?" Brian decides this isn't his conversation to witness and he wordlessly waves a goodbye at both of them, which they acknowledge, and he quickens his pace to create some distance between them.

Once Brian's far enough ahead, Angela proceeds, "I think it's more that I was in the right place at any time." Jordan's brow furrows as this reasoning makes no sense to him. She explains: "I was at the right place — I was at the loft to meet you. And what happened, just, happened, because— because it did. That could have happened anytime, anywhere, right?" Jordan doesn't respond, he doesn't think he likes where this is going. "Look, they're not happy about where the loft is. They're not happy there is a loft. They're not happy there was drinking, or fighting, or anything that would raise a cop's interest. They're particularly not happy that in the end it wasn't anything particularly big — Joey and Shane are fine, there was no big blow out, it was just, them." She tucks her hair and looks at him, "Basically, they're not happy."

She's mildly surprised when Jordan chuckles. "So, they're mad because they can't control everything." He chuckles again. She's confused by this till he playfully hits her arm saying, "They're so obviously your folks." Angela responds with a sassy look, to which he just laughs. "So, the Chases can't control everything, and because they're my friends—"

"And Because you weren't there to meet me, and because you were making me meet you in the first place—" Jordan makes a face in regards to that second part, her parents have strange ideas 'bout what does and does not fly in terms of getting together. He continues.

"—I get the blame."

"I don't know why you're fixating on this blame idea. They haven't issued any decrees or anything. Just—" she tucks her hair again.

"What?" Jordan's looking at her looking for a rational explanation of anything that he could do differently to fix the situation; his expression tells her there isn't.

Angela shakes her head. "I don't know." But she looks at him, earnestly. Her parents aren't alone in not wanting something like this to happen again. Yeah, nothing truly terrible had actually happened, but this was enough run-ins with police officers for her.

He answers her earnestness with a look of his own. "Angela—" He doesn't exactly have the words to finish this sentiment. "Relax." As she opens her mouth to respond, the bell rings and Angela for a moment turns her attention to the main building. Jordan takes advantage of the distraction and shoves her lightly, "Get to class; troublemaker." Because it's easier, and because she doesn't want to fixate on it any longer, Angela halfway smiles and then starts to head off.

But she only takes two steps before she turns back. "I think I left my French book in the loft." She adds soberly, "I was meaning to grab it last night."

"Wull, get it today." She makes no response. "What? Not allowed?" She purses her lips to the side and shrugs. In the absence of parental decrees Jordan's taking charge, "That's stupid. Come by later, we're having practice." Biting her lower lip Angela nods and starts off for class again. When she's crossed the remainder of the lot Jordan calls after her, "You, hands up!" She grants him the obligatory look-back and finds him grinning at her. Then she cinches her backpack straps and climbs the front steps to the main building while Jordan makes his way toward his homeroom located in one the auxiliary buildings.

After work, Patty, none too thrilled to drive all the way back across town to where she'd just left, drives Angela to Tino's loft to retrieve the missing French textbook. Angela rides along in silence, trying to figure out what her mother's thinking. "It's right here," Angela says, breaking the silence.

Patty pulls over and and looks up at the industrial building. "Oh, Angela." She looks at her, "This is where you've been spending your time?"

Angela doesn't want to start all this over again. "I'm hardly ever here."

"That's not what I gather." Patty looks from Angela back to the building; "I've been hearing about this loft for months." Angela makes a face; she'd only mentioned the stupid thing last night. Patty changes the subject, "Angela, go get your book." Angela looks at her mother dully, then undoes her seatbelt and opens her passenger door. "You sure someone's up there?"

Angela nods. "They're practicing." She shuts the door and heads up the sidewalk.

"Angela." Angela turns back. "Up and down again," Patty directs. Angela nods, then pulls open the heavy door to the interior staircase.

Angela can hear the sounds of the rehearsal as she climbs the stairs. She pushes open the door and, unnoticed by the band, currently mid-song, Angela makes her way through the room and retrieves her book. She's not the only visitor, and there are kids scattered about in clusters, listening some, but mostly talking and generally hanging out. As Angela exchanges words with a girl she knows, the song ends and Tino looks up and spots her. Instantly he moves into the mic with a rush of dramatic flair, "This one's going out to," he makes a point of looking at each subject as he calls his or hers name, "Shane Williams Jr., Joey Cash, and," he looks her in the eye and points a finger at her with deliberation, "Angela Kristofferson, and this," he says looking at everyone in the loft, "is a little Waylon Jennings." He drinks his beer lifts it up to the sky, and speaks into the mic as he smashes his bottle to the ground, "Here's to all ya outlaws!" and Tino begins to play. "Well, It's the same old tune, fiddle and guitar, Where do we take it from here..."

As none of the others know the music to "Are You Sure Hank Done it This Way," much less who Hank Williams was, Jordan, Joey, Rich and the rest of Frozen Embryos Redux stand by as Tino plays the hell out of it, harnessing his grittiest baritone. Jordan slings his guitar behind him and takes a few steps towards Angela, who, seeing he's still plugged into his amp crosses to meet him. Jordan leans down and swoops in for an unexpected kiss. "Hey," he smiles. He leans in with a grin and makes a nod towards Tino, "This is fer you, ya know."

"Tino luxuriates in my little downfalls," she observes wryly. Jordan chuckles appreciatively. Watching him play for a bit she shakes her head, "I don't know it, do you?"

Jordan smiles, "He loves that outlaw shi—" The music stops.

"Patricia," Tino calls out with emphasis, "at last we meet!" Angela turns and sees her mother standing in the doorway to the loft. Everyone else turns too and when they see it's an adult, more than that, a parent, who's standing there, they all kind of break off and disperse, closing ranks, so to speak. Tino, enthused rather than off-put, unplugs his guitar and walks straight over to her. Angela and Jordan watch it happen then she follows slowly after. "How ya doin'?" Tino as usual is disarmingly familiar and self-possessed.

"Tino. I'm presuming." Patty's greeting is wry but not unkind.

"At your service," Tino wags.

"Mom," Angela says in hopes of prompting their departure.

For Tino's gratification, Patty's mouth forms a tight-lipped smile, then she turns her attention to her daughter; her tone is dry and matter-of-fact, "You find your book?" Patty looks around the loft, surveying the space her daughter and her teenage friends have access to. Angela swallows and tries to remember if anyone was drinking — or smoking... — without conspicuously looking.

"Want a tour?" Tino offers. Tino follows Pattys gaze. "Not exactly a den of iniquities." She arches her brow at him. "All's I'm sayin' is, nobody's turning into a person of ill repute; not 'cuz of this place."

"You're not helping," Angela says.

"C'mon," Tino says, addressing Angela as if Patty were not right there, "I just said 'ill repute' that's gotta buy some cred." He turns to Patty, "Right?"

"Angela," says Patty, ready to leave.

The other kids and remaining band members have turned their backs or retreated to far corners; had Patty not been blocking the doorway many may have just left.

"Look," Tino begins again with actual earnestness. "Don't know why I'm the one saying this," he shoots a look at Angela like she's a chicken, and maybe a quick one at Jordan as well, "but I guess I'm doing this: Angela Chase's crazy respectful of your rules. To the point that it's a major drag. (She lives pretty much in fear of your wrath.) She doesn't break your rules, last night included, and, preconceptions aside, we're not bad kids. We're not getting her in any trouble." Having finished, and without an air of confrontation, Tino looks Patty squarely in the eye. Angela looks from Tino to Patty. Tino's stance communicates he'll remain, unflinching, until he can see he's made an impact on the infamously stalwart Patty Chase. Tino begins strumming on his unplugged electric guitar: "'Kids are different today,' I hear ev'ry mother say, trusting kids out with their friends's just a drag..." he looks to see if he's lost, or gained, any headway. Then Tino nods at her with a winning grin, like the two of them are in on some kind of secret, "You Richards or Jagger?" he queries with arched brows, continuing his strumming. Patty doesn't answer and he isn't fazed. "Jagger. Clearly." He strums a little more.

"We can go," Angela says to her mother, uncomfortable with the lack of response Tino's liberties have been met with. But Patty doesn't move. She looks round the loft again, taking in the instruments, the hammock, the mini fridge, the pay phone, the electrical cable spool standing in for a table, a couch, and what looks like a collection of kitchen chairs from somebody's grandmother or a flea market. Nothing about it looks too terrible — excepting the couch — but appearances are never the problem. She looks once more at the illusive boy she's heard so much of, from him to his friend, hanging back much as he always does, and from this alarmingly good-looking, diffident young man, to her own child. How many times will she find herself in this place? Parenting a teenager seems to her an extended series of near catastrophes. Forever having to choose between trusting in a child, their friends, and in the world at large, and leaving that child open to harm, hurt, and — life. Is there a right answer?

Patty looks at her watch. To Angela's surprise she then takes the book from her, and looks to Jordan, "Get her home by dinner?"

Angela's blown away and Jordan, a little dumbstruck, nods. He clears his throat, "Yeah."

Patty takes them all in, "Good. And, uh, no more surprises." She readjusts her purse strap on her shoulder and starts to turn, but pauses and turns back to ask, "Jordan, Tino, would you like to join us for dinner?" Angela isn't sure this is her mother.

"If you can't tame 'em, feed 'em?" Tino asks.

"Something like that."

Tino looks around and answers definitively, "Dinner at the Chase's? I'm there."

"Good. Jordan?"

"Sure." He clears his throat, "Yeah. Okay."

"This guy," Tino rolls his eyes in fast camaraderie with Patty.

Patty gives them all a reserved smile, and turns to leave the loft under very different circumstances than she'd foreseen when she'd made her way up the stairs just a few minutes earlier. She taps Angela's nose, "Homework. After dinner." Angela, embarrassed, but also impressed, nods. Tino's eyes go big for emphasis. He sings after her, "And Patty has a big, big heart, Bigger than her life," and strums the guitar with one punctuating strike. Once the door has shut, a slightly dazed Angela turns to Jordan; dispassionately he raises his hand to her and cooly she gives him a reserved high five as she crosses back into the room to watch the last bit of rehearsal, and more importantly to enjoy a hard won bit of freedom.

Posted 1/1/13 Happy New Year! Just got back from my polar bear plunge!