‘Yeah,’ the man’s baritone timbre intoned, ‘so, I hope everyone has a wonderful night and gets home safe. This is ‘Silver Surf, Golden Glow,...�� I hope you enjoy it.’ The young man’s head dropped again, the curtain of his hair falling, hiding the stage that was his eyes. He adjusted his guitar, a blonde Martin, and when he was prepared he rested his fingertips on the strings. No pick, only gentle fingers, drew forth a single, warm chord, fingers shifting on the frets to change one note, then both. She was so relaxed I couldn’t help but feel I should put my cards on the table. “I wanted to talk to you about something too. Her father.”“Ah, he thinks she is a virgin. Good father, good husband, only sees in us what he thinks are good things.”“Should I worry?”“About?”“Shotguns. I’m allergic to them.”“Shotgu... ? Ah, the shotgun marriage.” She chuckled, “No, worry about what I think.”“And what do you think?”“Jiang has tried to be a good girl. I thought being American would teach her to take. More

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