"You got it?" Mark asked. He straightened up as he saw Max come around the corner. He was leaning up against the wall. He felt like he had just come into some big money, and didn't know what to do with it.
Max nodded and showed it to him, then he closed his fatigue jacket. He fished a package of smokes out of one of the many pocketst.
"Alright!" Mark replied in celebrated glee. "So are we going?"
"I think so," Max replied. He unwrapped the cigarette package and offered one to Mark who took one and immediately lit it. Max took one out and closed the pack of Morte and put them back in his jacket pocket.
"Is Crew showing up?" Mark asked, took a long puff from the cigarette, held it in for a few more seconds then exhaled like a pro. "I called his place and his old lady said he was busy doing something or other."
"Beats me," Max said. He lit the cigarette and took a puff.
"Would be a bummer, man," Mark said. "This is our last summer together. We should enjoy it while we can."
"Time is an illusion," Max quipped.
"Lunch time doubly so," Mark added.
A car drove by filled with young ladies, hooting and hollering with the stereo blasting the pop song of the day, some Canadian group with a pop syrupy sound. Max hated it, but the girls in the car seemed to be singing it with joyful glee.
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