“Just get out of the car. You’ll be fine.” Tommy rolled his eyes. “You sound like an old maid at a nudist camp.” “I do not.” Jaramie gave his friend a wounded look. “But come on, admit it: this neighborhood looks pretty rough.” “Do you want to hear some really good music or not?” Tommy said, playing on Jaramie’s biggest weakness. Jaramie loved good music in all its forms, from symphonic to hip hop. “Where is this club anyway?” Jaramie asked. “I don’t see any signs, and I expect to be squashed by a garbage truck any second.” “There isn’t a sign. I told you; they don’t want just anyone coming in.” Jaramie sighed. “How did I let you talk me into this?” “Oh for fuck’s sake, will you please stop bitching for five minutes? You always do this. I have to coax and beg and practically get out the cattle prod to get you out of the apartment, and you always end up enjoying it.” “Sorry I’m such a drag.” Jaramie said as he shut the car door quite a bit harder than necessary.
