“A cowboy, a lawyer, and a mechanic watched Queen of the Damned,” I murmured. Warren—who had once, a long time ago, been a cowboy—snickered and wiggled his bare feet. “It could be the beginning of either a bad joke or a horror story.” “No,” said Kyle, the lawyer, whose head was propped up on my thigh. “If you want a horror story, you have to start out with a werewolf, his gorgeous lover, and a walker.”

“A second floor window opened, and Kyle stuck his head and shoulders out so he could look down at us. “If you two are finished playing Cowboy and Indian out there, some of us would like to get their beauty sleep.”I looked at Warren. “You heard ‘um Kemo Sabe. Me go to my little wigwam and get ‘um shut-eye.”“How come you always get to play the Indian?” whined Warren, deadpan.“Cause she’s the Indian, white boy,” said Kyle.”

“Oh God," Coyote said, and rolled onto his side, propping his head up on one hand. "It's hard to remember something that long ago. It's almost like an epic poem I memorized once, and can barely recite anymore.”

“So, you used to come up here, too, and escape all the girl drama?" I said and chuckled when his cheeks turned a little red."Nah," he refuted. "It was always these two the girls wanted. The Jacobsons are hot commodities around here.""Bull crap! You had them eating up those stupid 'I'm a cowboy' stories and you know it," Kyle yelled. "The one about you saving your sister from the bull was classic. Classic!""Eat me," Rodney said, embarrassed.”

“I want to be a cowboy.”“You what?” She laughs and turns to look at him.He runs his hand across the dash board. “This could be my steel horse. And look at me? I could rock a cowboy hat.”“This song’s not about an actual cowboy. It’s about touring with the band.”“It’s open to interpretation.”

“The inside jokes weren't jokes anymore. They had become stories. Nobody brought up the bad names or the bad times. And nobody felt sad as long as we could postpone tomorrow with more nostalgia. ”