Sandy returned with two brimming glasses full of bourbon. He managed to somehow get back to the hot tub without spilling a drop on the way. He passed Ryan's glass back to him and got back into the hot tub.

Sandy: Okay…so moving on. What about Berkeley?

Ryan: It would make the most sense, I guess…if I move.

Sandy: Seth would go there if you went.

Ryan: Yeah, and I know Marissa applied to Stanford.

Sandy: Well, that would be close enough, at least…

Ryan: Yeah, I don't know if she wants to go there though.

Sandy: Well, I'm sure you two will figure it out.

Ryan: Yeah…

There was silence for a few minutes, and then Sandy turned to Ryan with a proud, sort of stating the obvious look on his face.

Sandy: What if you don't move?

At this point, Sandy's speech was slightly slurred, but he was holding himself together well. Ryan, who hadn't been drinking straight bourbon, was definitely tipsy, but behind Sandy. Ryan peered over his glass at Sandy as he took another sip.

Ryan: I applied to UCLA…

Ryan grimaced slightly, and Sandy smiled.

Sandy: Couldn't see yourself as a Trojan, huh?

Ryan: No. Problem is, I can't really see myself as a Bruin, either.

Sandy: Yeah…

Sandy stared out at the horizon, thinking about the whole situation. Problem was, that he was no longer thinking like the rational Sanford, and more along the lines of a drunk surfer Sandy.

Sandy: …you've got a big decision, man…

Sandy nodded his head, agreeing with himself.

Sandy: …big, big! decision…big…life decision…

Ryan was amused by Sandy in his drunken state, he nodded his head in agreement and took another sip of his drink.

Sandy: …but you know that…

Ryan: Yeah…

Sandy continued to stare out at the horizon. He was sipping his drink and obviously lost in thought.

Sandy: I had some of the best years of my life at Berkeley…

Sandy's voice trailed off as his brain wandered off again. Sandy took another sip of his drink and Ryan did the same. Ryan stared at Sandy as he stared out at the ocean.

Ryan: What about you?

Sandy slowly turned his head towards Ryan, a very confused look on his face.

Ryan: What are you going to do?

Sandy sat up straight and smiled as he realized Ryan had just turned the tables on him.

Ryan: Are you going to sit home and watch Dr. Phil everyday?

Sandy: It's been working…

Ryan portrayed one of his classic looks and brought his glass to his lips.

Sandy: …y'know, he's really very interesting…and the guests on his show…

Ryan: Dude…you gotta get a job.

Sandy looked over at Ryan, a layer of seriousness on his face. Out of nowhere, a large smile appeared and he burst into laughter. Ryan was startled momentarily but then couldn't conceal his laughter as Sandy eyes started to water from laughing so hard. Sandy finally caught enough air to speak, but he was still failing miserably at trying not to laugh.

Sandy: (Between hysterics) Y'know….I…haven't been…unemployed…

Ryan began to laugh harder as Sandy tried to get all the words out.

Sandy: …working for…Caleb…

Suddenly Sandy stopped laughing, while Ryan continued on not even noticing.

Sandy: Oh my God, I've been working for Caleb.

Ryan settled down, small laughs escaping from his mouth as he took deep breaths. He looked over at Sandy.

Sandy: I've been working for Caleb. He's been training me, grooming me…I've become the person I hate, I work for the person I hate!

And that, my friends, is what alcoholics refer to as…a moment of clarity. Sandy looked over at Ryan as if a light bulb had just gone off in his head.

Sandy: I'll get a job.

Ryan laughed.

Ryan: I said that.

Sandy: No, I'll start my own practice.

Ryan: Are you sure?

Sandy: (Quickly) Yes.

Ryan nodded his head and furrowed his brow, taking yet another sip of his drink. Suddenly Sandy turned to Ryan.

Sandy: You hungry?

Ryan: Yes.

Ryan nodded his head spoke very matter of fact.

Sandy: I've got a few steaks in the fridge I've been saving for a rainy day…

Ryan looked up at the bright blue sky.

Sandy: …or a sunny one.

Ryan: Sounds good.

Sandy: Good…I'll get the steaks; you get us another refill.

Sandy and Ryan smiled to each other and simultaneously got out of the hot tub, each moving for their respective towels, and walking into the house.

Sandy stopped at the fridge, while Ryan made his way to the bar. Neither could walk a straight line, but the two managed just the same. About the same time Ryan found the bottle of bourbon, he heard the stereo click on, and music started wafting through the house. Ryan walked back through an empty kitchen, and into the backyard. Sandy stood over the grill, preparing it. The raw meat sat next to him on a small table, soaking in seasoning. Ryan approached Sandy, who turned towards him and immediately noticed the almost full bottle of bourbon in Ryan's hand. Ryan saw Sandy looking at the bottle and spoke up.

Ryan: Forgot the glasses…figured I'd just bring the bottle out.

Sandy's head raised, a thought process running over his eyes.

Sandy: Good thinking.

About twenty minutes later, Ryan and Sandy were stumbling towards the backyard table. They both slumped into their seats, positioning their hot off the grill steaks in front of them.

Ryan: Looks good.

Sandy: I bet they taste better.

Ryan nodded in agreement, and they both dug into their food. The only sound heard, other than the music that continued wafting from the speakers, was the chomping and lip smacking of Sandy and Ryan as they ate their food.

Ryan: What is this we're listening to?

Sandy: The Allman Brothers.

Ryan: They're good.

Sandy: They're one of my favorite bands…how's your steak?

Ryan: Delicious.

Sandy: Glad to hear it.

A few hours passed, and Ryan and Sandy had moved back to the hot tub. Sandy had moved on from The Allman Brothers, into some Bob Dylan, some Rolling Stones and then made his way back to The Allman Brothers again. But, truth be told, the music could barely be heard over Ryan and Sandy's laughter. Sandy keeled over slightly in the hot tub, one hand on his stomach, trying to catch his breath. He leaned back, let out a sigh and reached over, plucking the open bottle of bourbon off the ground next to the hot tub and topped off each of their drinks.

Ryan: (Smiling) Thanks.

Sandy's laughter had completely settled.

Sandy: Yeah.

They both leaned back, and brought their glasses to their lips simultaneously. Ryan had given up on the club soda about an hour prior, resorting to drinking it straight. They both stared out at the sun setting behind the Pacific Ocean. Sandy let out a small sigh and spoke, but never removed his sights from the horizon.

Sandy: Y'know…it's times like these that I love Newport…

Sandy moved forwards in the hot tub, propping himself up and peering down at the shoreline.

Sandy: …and the tide will probably be perfect for surfing tomorrow morning…I should go.

Ryan: Are you kidding? We're both going to be soo hung over...

Sandy looked over his shoulder at Ryan and couldn't help but laugh.

Sandy: You're probably right.

Marissa pulled her Mustang up the Cohen driveway, bringing it to a halt outside the front door.

Kirsten: God, I love this car.

Marissa laughed and shifted the car into park. She pulled the parking break and looked over at Kirsten who sat in the passenger seat with Samantha held tightly in her arms.

Marissa: Thanks. I tend to think of it as the one good thing I got from my mother.

Kirsten: Are you still fighting a lot?

Marissa: We're always fighting about something…

Marissa turned her car off, and they both stepped out. Marissa popped the drunk and walked over to it, pulling out numerous bags.

Marissa: …and lately, Ryan's been a hot topic.

Kirsten: She'll get over that eventually.

Marissa: I don't know…Caleb didn't like Sandy, right?

Kirsten smiled and looked over at Marissa.

Kirsten: He still doesn't…sorry, that's not very reassuring.

Marissa: (Smiling) That's okay, I don't care what my mom thinks…not anymore. Truth is, it's not that horrible, I'm hardly ever home, and from what I can tell, neither is she…so, I can usually manage to avoid her. It's just those times I actually have to talk to her that are the problem.

Kirsten opened the front door and the two stepped into the house.

Kirsten: She's never at home…that's weird; she hasn't been at – oh, God…that's The Allman Brothers…

Marissa: What?

Kirsten: We might have a problem.