Ian & Sylvia were on that night. She had a weird feeling that, since it was Kent who’d got her here in the first place, maybe she ought to talk to him. Jock retired and Juno took over. Kent spotted her right away. After Juno’d put a calming charm on him and hexed some tissues into her pocket to pass him so he could dry the beer off of his shirt that he’d spilled on seeing her, he said, ‘They really oughta make these bottles more grippable, don’t you reckon? Real slippery, they are! Anyway, you still at school, eh? Still in Hastings-Sunrise, eh? Me, I hardly see it now – got myself a real neat job! Yeah, truck-driving! Long-distance! West Coast, mostly – I go to Frisco a lot! Real neat city, not like here! Am thinking of moving there, actually. But y’know what’s even neater? I’m going all the way to LA next week! And guess what, I’ll be there to see The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl!’ Here he took a breath, not just to give Juno a chance to be impressed, but also because he needed to.
And whaddaya know – she was impressed. This time she didn’t even notice the weird ways of the air or the hair rising on the back of her neck. This time she was something like thunderstruck. Only, she knew it wasn’t thunder she’d been struck by. It was destiny.
It couldn’t be The Beatles. She’d already checked them out. They were more or less in the same category as Joni Anderson. This was something bigger than either they or Joni. But how could it be this Hollywood Bowl? As far as Juno knew it was just an open air theatre. Which left only one word in this phrase of Kent’s that had nearly floored her. At. The Beatles at the Hollywood Bowl. The Beatles and the Hollywood Bowl combined. It was the only possibility.
Once again Juno had someplace new to go thanks to Kent.
She had already known that the good times around here were truly all gone, but somehow she could now tell that she was finally bound for moving on. She sang with Ian & Sylvia as the door of the Inquisition swung closed behind her and inside a speechless young man touched the burning lip marks on his cheek whilst paying renewed tribute to his ever-thirsty shirt.