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SEPTEMBER 27, 1985—SYRACUSE, NEW YORKFor the next hour, we all play Foosball in the back room. At the moment, it’s Cindy and Robbie against Amy and Zack. I’m off to the side watching Cindy trounce her unworthy opponents. They’re on the last game as the band warms up. Robbie’s buzzing, but he isn’t trashed; though not enough that he’s oblivious to the ample view he’s getting of Cindy’s breasts as she bends over the table. He’s also getting more than a little friendly with her, and she’s not minding it. She zings another shot and scores again on Zack. I look over and there’s a grin on her face. I’ve seen it before—like right before she unzipped my pants under the bleachers at Corcoran High School. We all know how that ended.
She goes over to the drink-rail and picks up her gin-7-lemon an
