Humanity is an ocean; if a few drops of the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty. (Gandhi)

“This is the motherload,” Vincent informed them in a dirty back alley. A collective cloud of cigarette smoke hovered overhead from their five burning cigarettes. Ricky leaned against a brick building.

“Can we go home after this?” Rider asked.

“You can go wherever the hell you want after this one. You can buy yourself a castle or an island; we’ll be kings after this one.”

“More than one coffin?” asked Tony.

“More than ten coffins,” Vincent informed.

“Shit, I don’t know. How will we manage that?” Tommy asked.

“There’s a raid coming and there are going to be a lot of our men going down and going home.”

“If you know that why don’t you stop it?” Rider asked. “Are you killing soldiers just to get this shit back to the US now?”

“Men have to die. It’s in the job description,” Ricky defended lightly.

“Just because men are dying doesn’t mean I’m killing them. It’s a raid. People die. Are you suggesting I’m the kind of general who compromises his troops?”

“Yes,” said Rider, “that is exactly what I’m suggesting. You’re killing innocent men.”

Vincent took out his gun. He pointed it toward Rider.

“If I shot this right now I would be a killer. If I’m not pulling the trigger, I’m not killing anyone. There are casualties of war.”

“There are murderous greedy bastards killing innocent men.”

“Only if I pull the trigger right now.”

“No, because I’m not innocent.”

Vincent cocked the gun but no one flinched. Vincent wouldn’t actually shoot Rider. Vincent was always doing crazy shit to prove that he was the top dog. 

In confrontations, and where there is too much testosterone there are always confrontations, it’s the crazy person who always comes out on top. Strength becomes irrelevant. The crazy person dominates because no one knows what he will do.

Vincent shot Rider.

If you can't get rid of the skeleton in your closet, you best teach it to dance. (George Bernard Shaw)

Penny cried herself to sleep that night and prayed for the first time since Tommy told her he would never get to Heaven. She cried and prayed every night. Keep him safe, Lord, she pleaded night after night. She couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat, all she could do was read and pray. She found solace in these activities because maybe, just maybe, Tommy was reading the same book on the other side of the world. She would sit by the fence and read to him and sometimes she convinced herself he was there. She would close her eyes at night and pray because maybe, just maybe, God would be merciful and keep Tommy safe.

Tommy was not having a conventional tour. Tommy and his brothers went to lavish bars and restaurants and hotels, lots of hotels, and they would drink to excess, actually they did most everything to excess.

Vincent became the youngest General in American history. 

After not too long Ricky, Tommy, and Tony slept in a quarters fit for a king. Rider didn’t opt for the special treatment. 

Tommy and Tony would lay awake at night and talk. Tommy was warming up to Tony, though he was too much like Ricky. While they talked, Ricky slept. He slept as sound as if he were at home in his warm safe bed. They were safe, more or less, but at night they could still hear the shots ringing out. There were a million reminders like that telling them they were at war. Ricky slept.

They sent coffins home.

We know what we are, but know not what we may be. (Shakespeare)

“I don’t think it works like that.”

“Why not?”

“Can I pray with you?”

“Sir, I’m going to Vietnam in the morning, if that won’t make a noble man out of me I don’t know what will.”

“Can I pray with you?”

Tommy shrugged.

“Dear Lord, Tommy is a boy who has lost his way. His life hasn’t been easy, Lord, and perhaps you are testing him or perhaps you are preparing him. Only you know your Will. I pray that you will keep him. Give him the strength to overcome the obstacles he faces every day because Lord you never give him a challenge bigger than his soul can take. Give him the courage to make the right choices. Prepare him Lord for your holy service. Take his damaged heart in your powerful hand. Take his burden and shame. Take his mistakes. Take his needs. Cast all his shortcomings and remind him that he can be forgiven, he can be good, and he can be a soldier of Your name. As he goes to war, Lord be with him and keep him safe from harm’s way. Protect him and show him the power of Your love for him. Amen.”

Neither of them spoke for a long while.

“I figured you would just pray that God would keep me away from your daughter.”

“He doesn’t seem to hear those. He works in mysterious ways.”

Some thing tie your life together. Slender threads and things to treasure. Days like this should last and last. (Dashboard Confessional)

He mentioned something about school and I encouraged him to chatter on about his class and the funny things they would do.

“What do you do?”

What did I do?

“I fly.”

“You’re a pilot?”

“Yes.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Like commercial flights?”

He was impressed. I hated to defer that. “No, I just fly my own plane.”

He laughed. “You just fly around for fun?”

I shrugged. “I guess. I love flying.”

“But isn’t that expensive? Where do you get the money? Oh, are you a spoiled rich kid?”

How could I answer this? My family was rich but I made my own money.

“I have some investments.” That wasn’t a lie.

“Investments? You’re like twenty-four years old.”

“Twenty,” I corrected. He laughed. I loved when he laughed.

“Seriously?”

If at first you don't succeed try, try again. If at first you do succeed, then what? (Charlie Sheen)

These parties became a weekly occurrence. They became more exclusive. The bouncer stood there with the holy list, which was actually just a tenant list. People tipped him outrageous amounts to skip the line and he turned it over to us in exchange for meth. People did silly things to get their hands on crystal meth. We continually raised prices but people still wanted more. We kept cover at a hundred bones and pretended to keep the crowd at a hundred. Our party became known as the infamous “hundred” party: hundred dollars, hundred people.

It was raging every Friday night. Molly Ringwald showed up one night after her distant cousin told her about it. We put her on the list and let her cut the line, obviously. She showed up a second time with Emilio Estevez and Charlie Sheen. I don’t think she was back again. We did see a lot of stars pass through though. Judd Nelson, Don Simpson, even Motley Crue partied there after a concert in Hollywood. Not to brag, but one of them (the guitarist maybe) passed out in my bathroom. I’m not sure what his name was, they all look the same to me. I’m not very receptive to men who yell at me so I’ve never got behind their music.

My lawyer made me remove the name but a young actress got high at a Hundred Party during the initial stages of her drug addiction. Imagine that, the meth Tommy and I made started said star on a downward spiral from which she had to phone home, ahem, if you catch my drift. What? Technically I didn’t say her name. Whatever.

Speaking of what-ever, I became fluent in “valley girl”, which is like totally a language of its own. Seriously, it’s a bitchin’ way to like communicate with other totally bitchin’ people who are like as gnarly as you. As if! Fer sure. Like, like, like.

Anyway, you get the picture. Hundred Parties were fabulous. As people moved out, the price of available units skyrocketed. Everyone wanted to live in the Hundred Party building. It quickly became the most exclusive building in WeHo. 

The fishermen know that the sea is dangerous and the storm terrible, but they have never found these dangers sufficient reason for remaining ashore. (Vincent Van Gogh)

She stood and looked back for what she feared would be her last look at her first love. He sat on the curb, intoxicated. This was not how she wanted to remember him.

She walked slowly inside and her father didn’t speak until she was inside.

Her mother hugged her as her sister scolded her. She trudged upstairs. She locked her bedroom door, opened her bedroom window, and climbed out onto the roof. She listened carefully.

“You have to understand, Tommy, she’s my daughter and I only want what’s best for her.”

“I understand sir.” Tommy’s speech was slurred but he was sobering quickly. “I want the same.”

“If you mean that you’ll leave her alone.”

“I can’t.”

“Penny is a bright girl with a bright future and the only thing that stands in her way is you. I know about your father and your family and I know what you are doing is dangerous. I don’t want Penny involved in that sort of business.”

“I would never involve Penny in that.”

“You already have.”

“No sir, I haven’t.”

“Every time you come here you delude her. If you are in her future that will be in her future and that is no future. I see the car you drive. I know the kind of house you live in. When Penny sees the way you live how will she be content here? I work hard, every day of my life I work and I do my best but I’ll never be rich. I’ve taught my daughter values and I’d like to think she has her priorities in order but when you come along with your plenty I don’t see how the modest life I provide could ever compare.”

“You do alright.”

“Alright is not rich but it’s honest and that’s what I want for my daughter: a good, honest, Christian life.”

“What do you want me to do? Walk away and never come back? ‘Cuz I don’t think I can do that sir. My mom walked out on my family a long time ago and the only woman who could ever hold a candle to her is Penny. I mightn’t have known my mother but I know that she would want me to be with a girl like her. I don’t always have to be lowlife scum. I could be respectable. I could be like you.”

“It’s not fancy being like me, kid. You don’t get a car like that working in a factory.”

“What if I got enough money to live comfortably for the rest of my life and then just got out of the racket? What if I had enough money to provide for Penny for the rest of her life?”

Sometimes what you're looking for is right where you left it. (Sweet Home Alabama)

Penny sat on the curb. She looked for hours at the scars Tommy’s tires left on the pavement. She sat by the fence. She closed her eyes and pretended he was leaning on the other side. How many times had his back been half an inch from hers? She walked to the park. She ate ice cream but it didn’t taste as good now.

He was no closer when he returned. She didn’t see him but she still looked for him everywhere. Her parents prayed.

Things were getting busy for Tommy and his brothers but one night, the last night, they drove through the streets of Philadelphia in a two car convoy. They were reckless, always reckless. When they drove down Penny’s street she was sitting on the curb. She did that a lot. He met her eyes as he whizzed by.

A moment after the commotion of the rowdy boys Tommy straggled down the sidewalk alone.

“Tommy,” she gasped.

He sat beside her in a messy heap. He smelled of alcohol but she didn’t realize that then. She had never smelt alcohol before. His hair was brushed back and looked wet with bravo.

He had a greasy smirk. His attire had graduated from ripped jeans and grubby flannel to tight cuffed jeans and expensive-looking shirts. But his clothes still looked dirty, even now. Penny was taken back. He was different in her memory.

“Penny Lane, you’re in my ear and in my heart,” he sang out too loud.

A light soon went on in her parent’s bedroom.

She acknowledged it and told him he would have to leave.

“Leave with me.”

“I can’t.”

“I leave tomorrow for good.”

“What do you mean?”

“I enlisted. I’m leaving tomorrow for Vietnam, me and all my brothers.”

Penny’s heart broke.

“Penny Lane,” he began to sing again as the light went on over the porch. They were hidden from her father’s view by the fence but he knew right where they were. It would be but a moment and he would be there.

“You have to go.”

“Not until tomorrow.”

She shook her head. “Now.”

“Come with me, Penny. Walk with me. Walk with me until morning.”

Her father appeared beside them. He hovered over them.

“Penny, go inside.”