![]() Violet controls the conversation, putting on a brave face and leading us through the bands who are playing, the ones who are worth checking out, the history of the festival, and the philanthropist who started it. With my arm around her waist we head off down the street until we catch up with Ben who seems to be in his own tortured world. ![]() “I’ve been better,” she says, standing on her tiptoes for a kiss. “How are you, mirlo?” I ask her, running my hand over her silky head. I turn to Violet and hold out my hand, helping her to her feet. He just dismisses me with a pained wave, getting up off the step with a pathetic whimper before staggering down the street. “Hey,” I say to them, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket. Except instead of cheesy grins, they look like they’re going off to war. ![]() She and her brother are already waiting on the steps, sitting on the stoop like the poster for an old sitcom I used to watch on Telemundo. ![]() Since the festival posters promised lots of alcohol along with the free music, I have one of the hotel’s private cars take me to Violet’s door. ![]()
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