Even though it was early in the day for teenage delinquency, by the time Stanton and his little crew showed up to Church Cove, there were about a dozen boats tied up together and a battle of transistor radios blaring different held positions of the latest top 40. Lots of pale skin on the way to forced sunburn for that early summer base layer, and short nosed beer bottles were being lifted out of live wells filled with ice. A couple of the more hillbilly folks lay back casually holding long bamboo poles over the water, but most were fishing for attention from the opposite s*x. Apparently, the captain of my brother’s vessel was a man of respect as well as means, the other boats untethered to make room in the middle of their drifting formation of suggested f*********n. Figured I would stick a
