The bouncer walked over and hauled John out of his seat. He dragged the ex-Beatle through the crowd and threw him out into the street. On an impulse, Destiny took off her apron and slipped out the side exit. She went around to the front and saw Lennon sitting on the curb looking angry and dejected, smoking a cigarette. She went and sat down beside him.

"You were funnier than they were," she said, referring to the Smothers Brothers.

John snorted derisively. "Yeah, well, that's not sayin' much,is it?" he remarked, 'Mom always liked you best'. What the fuck is that? Jesus, what a load of crap!" He flipped his cigarette ash into the gutter and turned to look at Destiny. She blushed under his frank scrutiny, and he grinned.

"So, what's yer name?" he asked conversationally.

"Destiny," she replied. "Destiny Kirkpatrick."

"Well, Destiny Destiny Kirkpatrick," he said with a smile, "I'm John."

"I know," she told him.

"Fancy a drink?" he asked, getting to his feet and offering her a hand up.

She hesitated; she could get fired for leaving. She decided he was worth it and took his hand.

"Sure, let's go," she agreed.  They walked a short distance down the street to another club, and John led her through the crowd to an isolated corner where it was relatively quiet. She slid into the booth and he sat beside her.

"So," said Destiny, once their drinks had arrived, "What's going on in the life of John Lennon these days?"

He looked up at the ceiling as though he might find the answer written there. He sighed and took a deep drag off his cigarette.

"Oh, I'm workin'," he replied, "But mostly I'm just doin' me time. I just want to go home."

Destiny looked at him with curiosity. "To England, you mean?" she asked, stirring her drink.

"Nah, to New York," he answered, lighting another cigarette off the last one. "To Yoko. To me life."

He explained that his wife had asked him to leave home, directing him to take their personal assistant with him. He had done so and was currently living in Los Angeles with her in a house owned by a friend of his. The assistant, whose name was May, was now his mistress and she had fallen deeply in love with him.

"And I don't treat her right," he said sadly. "She's good and sweet and, well, hell-- she fuckin' loves me. She deserves so much better than I give her. I feel like such a bastard sometimes." He finished his drink and looked about for a waitress to call for a refill. He caught the eye of one and waved her over. When she went to get his drink, he continued to speak.

" But I can't help my feelings any more than she can help hers," he added. "I just love Yoko so much. All I wanna do is go home."

His drink arrived and he tossed it back with a practiced air. He stood and offered his hand once more. Destiny took it without hesitation and followed him as he threaded his way back through the crowd, swaying ever so slightly on his feet.

Once they were outside, John took a deep breath and seemed to revive a bit.

"So then, girl, where to now? Where d'ye live?" he asked, getting out another cigarette.

Destiny hesitated for a heartbeat, then told him, and he waved down a taxi and pushed her in, sliding in beside her. He gave her address to the driver and took her into his arms without a word, kissing her deeply. She did not resist, but melted instead against him, pressing her breast more firmly into his hand. The other hand was on her thigh, up under her short skirt. He slid his hand higher, and she stiffened, refusing to allow him to get his hand between her legs.

"No," she whispered, "Not here. The driver-- wait till we get there."

He withdrew the offending hand and allowed it instead to rest upon her knee, but continued kissing her.

Once they reached Destiny's apartment, she opened the door and he followed her up the narrow stairs. She unlocked the second door and led him inside. He closed and locked the door, then seized her again and steered her to the couch, stretching out full length upon her. He was moving against her insistently, and she did not fight him. She reached up and started unbuttoning his shirt. He shrugged it off and yanked his jeans off as well. Destiny slipped out of her clothes and let them fall heedlessly to the floor, and she welcomed him without reservation.

***

At some point the pair moved to the bedroom and by the time it was becoming light outside, they were asleep, wrapped together tightly.

When Destiny woke, she looked up into his face. He was sleeping deeply, snoring softly. His mouth was relaxed and his eyelids fluttered with a dream. His hair was tousled and he needed a shave. Destiny glanced at the clock; it was well past noon. She hoped that John did not have anywhere he had to be. She thought of waking him, but decided to allow him to sleep as long as he cared to. She settled back down beside him, and his arm went around her at once. He stirred, then settled once more. She lay against him, considering what had happened. She thought of the things he'd told her, some of which had been of such a personal nature that she was almost embarrassed to know them. She thought of the girl, May, with whom the man beside her lived. What was she going through? Was she worried that he might not return? She was thinking of this when John stirred again and opened his eyes sleepily.

"Mmph," he said, groping on the table beside the bed for his glasses. He located them and put them on, peering at the clock and reaching for a cigarette. Destiny smiled at him; he looked so cute to her, all tousled and sleepy.

"Good morning," she said, kissing his cheek.

"Umph," he replied, taking a deep drag on his cigarette. He shook his head as if to clear it, then said, "Mornin'."

"Are you hungry?" asked Destiny.She stood up and stretched, then when he did not answer, she turned to look at him. He was leering at her suggestively.

"Well, not for food, but yeah, I could go for somethin'," he remarked.

Laughing, she rejoined him, and they had breakfast much later.

***

Later that afternoon, after John had gone, Destiny thought that it was too bad she would not be able to spend more time with him and get to know him better. He was a fascinating man and so sexy, she had to add. Handsome, funny, intelligent, personable-- he had it all. She hugged the pillow he'd used for a moment, then tossed it back onto the bed with a sigh. Dammit, she thought, why are all the good ones always taken?

***

Four days passed, and Destiny went on as before, but she could not deny that she missed John Lennon far more than she would have thought possible. She'd spent no more than sixteen hours with him, and that was a generous estimate. Still, she felt as though she'd lost something important.  More than once she found herself blinking back tears. By the time the fourth day came, she had decided that the best thing she could possibly do was to simply forget him; if she did not, she was quite sure to drive herself completely insane.

Destiny was sitting alone in her kitchen having a cup of coffee when there was a sudden, loud, almost hysterical knock on her door.

Her heart in her throat, she ran to the door. She heard loud panting coming from the other side.  Then another knock; she almost fell over from shock.

"W-who is it?" she called, her heart pounding furiously.

"It's me-- John! Open up, girl, willya?"

Opening the door quickly, she admitted him. He nearly fell into the room. He was clutching his side and his face was dead white. Destiny helped him to the sofa and he lay down heavily, breathing like a freight train. Destiny was horrified to see blood on the front of his shirt.

"Oh!" she exclaimed, "You're bleeding--"

He looked as worried as she at that, and he looked down at his shirt, but then he grinned.

"Ah, no-- that'd be the other fella's nose did that," he said with a shake of his head. "He did get a lucky punch in to me ribs, but I was able to protect me pretty face. He wasn't so lucky, though. You should see his-- he looks like he's wearin' a Halloween mask!" He laughed, but stopped short and clutched his side again, wincing.

"For crying out loud, John. What was the whole thing about?"

"He called me a faggot," said John simply.

"What? Who cares? What if he'd had a knife-- or a gun?"

"I didn't think o' that," he said, still holding his injured ribs. Destiny moved his hands aside and pressed the sore spot gently.

"Nothing broken," she commented, "But you're going to have quite a bruise, I'll bet."

"Are y'sure about that? Sure feels broken to me," he complained. "Hurts like bleedin' hell."

"Yes, I'm sure. Two years in nursing school," she replied. "You can be sure; nothing is broken-- thank God."

He leaned his head back and closed his eyes wearily.

"I'll be right back," said Destiny. She went to the kitchen to get him a drink. She filled a glass halfway with water, hesitated, then went to the cupboard and got out a bottle of bourbon and filled the glass the rest of the way with that.

"Here, drink this," she said, kneeling beside him again.

He started to push her hand away, then caught the smell of alcohol and changed his mind. He drank it all and said, "Next time, leave out the fuckin' water." He smiled weakly and she tousled his hair gently.

"Yeah, you'll be fine," she said. "Why did you come here, though? Why not the hospital?"

"Didn't wanna deal with the publicity," he replied. "There wasn't anyone else around, so now if the other guy tells anyone it was me who messed up his face, it'll be his word against mine. No record of it, see?"

"But why here?" she asked again. "Why me?"

He smiled at her, and to Destiny it felt like warm sunshine.

"Because I like you," he replied. "And I don't know why, but I trust you. I just know you'll keep quiet about it. I remembered your address from the other night and so when I got a cab, I asked 'em to bring me here."

"Well, lucky for you I've had nurses' training," replied Destiny crisply, "Or else I would have had to call the hospital.  Broken ribs are nothing to fool around with. You could get a ruptured spleen, or--" she stopped; he was laughing at her quietly.

"Ah, but girl," he said softly, "Without the nurses' trainin' you wouldn't know that, now, wouldja?"

"You have an answer for everything, don't you, Lennon," she muttered, but she had to smile. "Think you can make it to the bedroom?"

He almost fell off the couch, laughing with glee, holding his side gingerly. "Ooooh, girl-- yer a naughty one! I hardly think I'm in any shape for a shaggin' just now," he said in a delighted voice.

Destiny shook her head, smiling again. "No, you fool-- I just thought you'd be more comfortable in the bed. Although," she added, looking thoughtfully at him, "I could just lay you down without all that constrictive clothing and just do all the work myself..."

"You know," replied John, "I think the bed might be more comfortable. And me clothes are a bit constrictin'."

She helped him into the bedroom and undressed him tenderly.

"There you go," she said, smoothing his hair back.

"Think I could get another drink?" he asked hopefully.

She nodded and went to get it.

"Remember, this time leave out all that fuckin' water," he called after her.

When she returned, he rose on his elbow and reached for the glass. She gave him some pills and he put them into his mouth and washed them down with the bourbon.

"What was that you gave me?" he asked.

"You're asking now? Why not before you took them?"

He shrugged. "Fat nun squeezin' into a tight uniform," he remarked.

Destiny looked at him, puzzled. "What?" she asked.

He grinned. "Force of habit," he explained. "See a pill, swallow it. Then ask what it's gonna do to me."

"Well, I won't ask you how many times that may have gotten you into trouble," replied Destiny. "But it was a narcotic pain reliever--you know; Demerol."

"Cool," he said. Then he gave her another grin. "Now, about you doin' all the work-- just what'dye mean by that?"

Shaking her head with a smile, she bent to take him into her mouth, and he sighed happily and leaned back into the pillows, closing his eyes.

***

Days passed, then a week. Destiny paced, at loose ends. She felt as though she just didn't know what to do with herself. There was no sense in denying it.

"I'm in love with him," she said aloud. Her voice sounded so loud in the quiet room that she was almost startled. There. It was out. She'd admitted it.

"I'm in love," she repeated, "With another woman's husband."

Another woman whom that husband loved more than anything else on earth. Destiny had not seen or heard from John in a week. For all she knew, he'd gone back to New York already and she would never see him again.

One thing was for sure; if he ever did come back, she could never let him know how deep and strong her feelings for him had become. It would only make him feel badly and further muddle his already too complicated life.

"Oh, well, there's nothing I can do but wait," she muttered. She looked at the clock and sighed; two a.m. Might as well go to bed, she supposed.

She had just settled herself for the night when there came a soft knock on the door, then a little louder one.

"John!" she exclaimed, running for the door. She paused and called, "Who is it?"

"A rapist," replied John's voice.

She opened the door at once, and he stepped in, a look of mock horror on his face.

"What! D'ye open the door for rapists, then?" he cried.

She closed the door behind him and smiled at him. "Only the cute ones," she replied, "After all, I do have some scruples."

John took her into his arms and kissed her hard. "Scruples are very overrated, y'know," he remarked. "Got any more o' that bourbon?"

Much later, after they'd fallen asleep, Destiny woke and she was alone in the bed. She heard him in the bathroom and relaxed. She watched him come back into the room and instead of getting back into bed, he collected his cigarettes and matches from the table and sat in a chair by the window.

Silently, Destiny watched him. The match flared, lighting his handsome face, but his expression, as so often was the case, was unreadable. He took a deep drag and expelled the smoke towards the ceiling, then looked out the window at the street below. Golden light filtered up from the street light below and illuminated his features; he sighed and Destiny said in a soft voice, "Hey, Johnny."

He turned his face towards her. "Ah, you're awake," he said. "Good; I've somethin' I wanna ask ."

That sounded slightly ominous to Destiny, but she made her voice light.

"What's that?"

"I feel really bad about the way I'm hurtin' May," he said quietly.

"I know," replied Destiny, "You told me."

"Yeah, well, I don't wanna add you to the list of victims," he said, his tone flat and slightly bitter. "I just don't wanna hurt yet another girl who's been nothin' but kind and good to me."

She got up and crossed the room, settling into his lap. She put her head on his shoulder, and he put his arms around her protectively. She could feel the pulse in his throat.

"Don't worry about me," she said softly. "I know how everything is. You've been completely honest, and I don't expect you to fall in love with me. It's too late for that; you're already in love. Don't worry," she said again. "I'm okay with being your friend." She felt a little guilty saying this, but she figured that as long as she didn't say 'just your friend,' it wasn't really quite a lie.

"Okay, then," said John, sounding relieved, "You've got the job. Friends it is."

Destiny lifted her head and looked into his face.

"But can we still..."

He grinned and replied, " But of course," and carried her back to bed.

***

The next morning, Destiny got up and went to the window.  The shade was only half up, and she opened it the rest of the way to let the sun come streaming into the room.

"FUCKIN' HELL!" cried John, from the bed, "SHUT THE BLOODY SHADE-- TOO MUCH LIGHT!"

She closed it completely and came back to the bed.

"Sorry," she told him.

"Hurts my fuckin' eyes," he said moodily. "How the hell can you be so bleedin' cheerful at such an obscene hour?" he continued, feeling for his glasses. He put them on and took a cigarette, lit it, and lay back down. He looked cranky and tousled, and Destiny had to giggle.

"What?" he said, looking offended.

"You just look cute," she replied.

"Hmmph," he said, blowing smoke in her direction. She waved it away and went on to tell him that morning was the best part of the day.

"It's the fuckin' days' bleedin' asshole," growled John. She bent to kiss his cheek, and he allowed the caress, then added that he "fuckin' hated mornings".

"Oh, but baby," whispered Destiny in his ear, "mornings can be so much fun! Tell you what. Take a shower with me."

He grudgingly agreed that this particular morning could be worse.

***

Days would pass, then suddenly he would appear at odd hours. Destiny made sure to be home every evening just in case of a visit. Once it was over a week, and she was sure he'd gone back to New York.

When the knock came, she flew to the door and threw it open. He stepped in and she hurled herself into his arms.

"Whoa, girl, what is it? Has somethin' fuckin' happened?" he cried in an alarmed voice. He stroked her hair, murmuring into it, "Ssshhh, hush, it's all right, calm down and tell me what this is all about."

She stopped sobbing long enough to stammer, "I--I th-thought y-you were never coming back--"

He drew his head back to look at her. His eyes were full of concern and alarm.

"Say, you're not goin' soft on me, are ya?" he asked in a worried voice, "Because I don't know if I can handle another--"

"No," she said quickly. She shook her head vehemently and forced herself to smile up at him. "It's okay; I'm okay. Honest. It's just that--" she paused, trying to think of a reasonable excuse for her unreasonable behavior. "--I'm almost due for my period," she said, looking down to avoid his light brown eyes with their clear intensity.

"Ah, the lady's days," he said, accepting her explanation. "You had me scared there, for a minute."

"Sorry," she told him, hugging his neck. He kissed the top of her head and assured her that there had been no harm done.

"Say," he added, "You did say almost due, didn'tcha?"

She nodded and he began to kiss her, and everything began to be all right again.

Late that night, she woke to the sound of him crying. He was trembling and his sobs shook his shoulders.

"Baby," she cried, pulling him close, "What is it? Tell me." She held him, and he clung to her, crying like his heart was breaking. She rocked him gently, as though he were a child who needed comforting. "Tell me, John," she said again, after what seemed like a very long time. He seemed to be cried out for the time being, and he looked up at her, seeming very young and very miserable.

"I just wanna go home," he said at last in a very small voice.  His eyes filled again and he dashed the tears away with the back of his hand and said "Fuck," angrily. "Sorry," he added, "I don't mean to bring you down.  It's just that I love her so much--sometimes I wish I didn't, but there it is."

"It's okay for you to miss her, John," whispered Destiny, "This will all be over, probably soon. After all, she's got to be missing you, too."

He nodded and closed his eyes, sighing heavily. Then he got up and went to the bathroom. Destiny watched him through the open door; he splashed water on his face, dried it, and came back, settling next to her again. He lit a cigarette and smoked in silence for a moment.

"Tell me about her," said Destiny suddenly.

John looked at her; he seemed surprised. "What, you mean Yoko?" he asked, taking another drag off his cigarette.

"Yes. How did you meet her? Was it love at first sight?"

He laughed abruptly. "It was more like subjugation at first sight, actually," he said. "You haven't already heard this story?"

"No," she admitted. "After the Beatles broke up, I didn't really hear that much about what you guys were up to. I saw your bed-in things in the papers, you know, and like that, but nothing personal. I knew you got married, and Paul too, and I heard about your moving to New York, but I didn't even know you were in California until I saw you at the club one time."

"You saw me before the night we met?"

"Yes, but I was working, and I didn't want to bother you, you know?"

"Hmmm. Well, I met her at least a year before we finally hooked up; after I first met her, I saw her a few other times too, but we were never alone together until May of 1968."

He leaned over to get another cigarette, lit it, then settled back. Destiny settled herself against his shoulder, watching his face.  He circled her with his arm and kissed her hair.

"I was alone that day," he said, his eyes clouding a bit at the memory. "I fuckin' hate bein' alone. Can't fuckin' stand it; never could. I'd been to this party at a friends' house the night before, but I was feelin' a bit sick, so I left alone and went straight home to bed. The next day I woke up alone and I was fuckin' bored. The wife and kid were away and the house was so quiet.  Noise from the stereo or the telly didn't help, I wanted some company. I saw an ad about this art gallery in London, it was called the Indica Gallery; it was the same place where I'd met Yoko the year before at her exhibition." He blew smoke at the ceiling and thought for a moment.

"She'd sent me this book," he continued, "Kinda weird, but kinda cool. I found it in the drawer by the bed and gave her a call.  She agreed to come over; I was nervous and I didn't really know why. I felt like I had to impress her."

"The fact that you were a Beatle wasn't impressive enough?" asked Destiny. "I would think that would do it."

"Yeah, well, you'd think so, but you'd be wrong. She said she hadn't realized that when we first met."

Destiny found this hard to believe, and when she said so, John shrugged and said, "Well, that's what she said, and she didn't seem all that impressed after she found that out. Anyhow, once she got there, I was kinda lost. It was like, okay, now she's here, what the fuck do I do now? I decided to play her some experimental tapes I'd been workin' on in my off time.  She seemed impressed by that, and then she suggested that we make a tape of our own, together. So we did, and that was the Two Virgins album.  After that, we went to bed and made love, and that was the first time. It was the next morning by then, and as soon as it happened, I knew she was the one I was destined for. It was like magic, and I just wanted to be with her all the time after that. It's that simple; she completes me. She's like--" he paused, and for a moment Destiny thought he would cry again. "--she's like me other half," he said at last. "My fuckin' soulmate. Jesus, girl, I just love her so much."

He crushed out his cigarette and took Destiny into his arms. He kissed her insistently and she pressed herself hard against him. He rolled onto her and her mind cried, oh baby, how I wish you could love me that way, because that's just the way I love you! Then she stopped thinking altogether because he was pushing into her, seeking to enter her and forget his pain for a while.

***

When Destiny heard John running up the stairs a week later, the last thought on her mind was that this might be their last time together. Her heart turned over and she opened the door, smiling broadly.

"Des! Guess what? Oh, you'll never guess-- I'm just gonna tell you-- it's over, it's all over! I'm goin' home, I'm goin' fuckin' home!"

Destiny's blood seemed to freeze in her veins. His exile was over; he would be returning to New York, to his life, to the woman he loved. She made her mouth smile.

"John, that's wonderful. I'm so happy for you," she told him, trying hard to really mean it. But she wasn't so selfless; she wished that he was going to stay here, near her. He grabbed her up and swung her around in an exuberant circle. When he released her, he was breathing heavily and his sweet brown eyes were shining with happiness.

"When will you leave?" she asked, afraid of his answer.

"Today! In a few hours! I wanted to come tell you, see you first. And to give you this," he said, handing her a slip of paper. "It's my phone number in New York," he explained. "I want you to call me if you ever need anything." He kissed her gently and she put the scrap of paper into the pocket of her jeans. Blinking back her tears, she buried her face in his shoulder.

"I'll miss you," she said softly, "So much."

"You've been great, Des," he told her quietly, "I don't know how I would've made it through all of this without you. I mean it-- call me if you need anything. You've been a good friend to me, and I won't forget."

"You said you didn't have to go for a few hours," she said, hugging him tight. "Can you stay a while?"

"Yeah, for an hour or so," he said, "But I have another place I've gotta go before I go to the airport. Just let me tell the taxi to come back in an hour. Be right back."

Destiny held him as tightly as she dared, loving him fiercely. When he left here, that would be the end.

The hour fairly flew by, and all too soon the taxi was back, honking out in front of the building.

The last time Destiny saw John, he was sitting in the car, waving happily as it pulled away from the curb and rolled down the boulevard.

***

A few days later, Destiny saw John and Yoko on some TV news show. He looked happy and at peace with himself. He held his wife's hand tightly and kept looking at her with love shining in his eyes.  She cried for a long time, selfishly wishing that he were still here. She went to bed early and slept dreamlessly for once.

The next morning, she was sick as soon as she got up.

The same thing happened the next day.

And the next.

A quick trip to the doctor and a urine test told Destiny that she was expecting a child--John's child. It could be no one else's. There had been only him for several months.

She often took the scrap of paper with the phone number on it and looked at it thoughtfully.  Sometimes she even picked up the phone, but then she would stop, remembering his desperate grief, the heart wrenching sobs shaking him as he cried for the woman he loved.  She put the phone down every time, knowing that she could not destroy his fragile happiness. She knew he had returned to the place, the life, and the woman he belonged to. She would just have to do what she felt to be right. What more could anybody do?

When the time came for her baby to be born, Destiny went to the hospital alone. She had a boy and agreed to sign adoption papers, for the social worker who visited her said that it would be selfish for Destiny to keep her child.

"The best and most loving thing you could do would be to let him grow up in a real home with both a mother and a father," said the woman, and Destiny signed the papers, kissed her son goodbye, and moved back to her home in Vermont.

***

Sixteen years passed, and Destiny never met another man she could love the way she had loved John. He had now been dead for nearly eleven years, and she still took out her scrapbook from time to time and looked down at his face with affection.

One evening, there was a soft knock at her door. Destiny put aside her needlework and went to see who it could be; she was not expecting anyone. She opened the door and caught her breath. The skinny kid who was standing there looked so much like John that she nearly fainted. She sat heavily in the chair beside the door. The boy looked alarmed.

"Hey, are you okay?" he asked, "I didn't mean to scare you. I just came to ask you somethin'."

"You don't have to," she said, standing up shakily. "Yes, I'm your mother. You look just like your father. For a moment I thought--"

"Is he here?" asked the kid, looking about as if he thought he might see her husband sitting somewhere in the room. "Are you married to him?"

"No, I never was. He was married to someone else, I just fell in love with him anyway."

"Oh. Well, do you know where he lives? I'd like to meet him too."

Destiny looked sadly at him and told him, "I'm sorry, baby, but your father has been dead since you were around six."

"Oh," he said again. "Well, you're here, anyhow. Do you have any pictures of him?"

"Come on into the kitchen and sit," she replied in a gentle voice, "I have plenty of pictures of him."

The kitchen was large, clean and old fashioned looking. There was a rocking chair in one corner with a handmade quilt in progress draped over its back. A large, ginger colored cat lay sleeping on the chair, and its tail twitched in a dream. The boy sat down at the table, and Destiny got a big book out of a cabinet beside the stove and slid it across the table to him. He opened the book to the first picture.

"I think you gave me the wrong book," he said, smiling at her, "Although it's kind of funny, cuz people are always tellin' me I look just like--" he stopped dead then, looking at the picture again, then at Destiny. She smiled sadly and nodded her head.

"That's right; he was your father," she said quietly. "He never knew about you, though, so don't blame him."

The boy said nothing but stared down at the picture of John in front of him.

***

"Is it okay if I smoke?" he asked, his voice shaking a bit. She nodded and went to get him an ashtray.

The boy-- her son, Destiny reminded herself-- lit his cigarette with shaking hands and took a deep drag. He reminded his mother even more of John as he did this. The resemblance was unmistakable, the only difference the color of his eyes; they were clear and blue. His long hair was tied back in a ponytail with a piece of leather, and Destiny went to stand behind him. She loosened his shoulder length hair and he shook his head, causing it to fall forward around his handsome face. Destiny handed him a mirror and he looked at himself, then at the picture of John with a similar hairstyle his mother showed him.

"Well, I'll be damned," said her son, "I'll be fuckin' damned!"

Destiny put her arms around him and kissed the top of his head.

"I have so much to tell you," she said, drawing up a chair to sit beside her son. "When I first met your father, he was sitting on the curb after getting thrown out of the club I worked at for heckling the Smothers Brothers. I told him he had been funnier than they had, and he said..."

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