Mike was living in Brooksville, but my father is down here already and is pretty thorough, so there will most likely be a write-up in the St. Pete Times in the next couple of days. I have to go to Traffic Court tonight and will call my dad afterwards because he said that by then he should have all the details.
Me and Mike were close for a brief time during my Junior year in high school while we were both on our phases. After we 'stepped' and he graduated high school it was like a fierce competition to see who was the most acceptable. Like the time I came home with my first car, a '72 Gran Torino, and Mike comes roaring up the street with 6 day old mud still caked to the sides of his car from the big Tubing Trip a bunch of us did at Weeki Wachee. I was just finishing up waxing the trunk, and he runs in the house, comes out with a can of Comet for christs sake and douses his car with it. Sure, it came clean as a whistle in just 5 minutes and he tore off down the street with his buddies, but it developed a SERIOUS case of acne the next time after it rained.
I never wrote much about my step-brothers and few people understood the delicate powder-keg I lived under. My dad may have made the money, but their mom wore the pants and made pretty good money of her own managing a dress shop in Pinellas Square Mall. Even though I lived with my birth father, it was always THEIR home, and I was never allowed to forget it. Writing about it is not really painful, but it does bring up alot of anger. All I can do is bite the bullet and just get through this.
