The cabins at the Rock and Roll Fantasy Camp were small and Spartan; the campers’ fees went to paying the guest instructors, or at least their coke dealers, therapists, and exwives, and not for luxurious accommodation. This didn’t bother Henry when he checked in. The cabin was plenty big enough for one.

But now it held Henry, Shawn, and Gus, along with Henry’s fury and his embarrassment, and it was feeling mighty cramped. Shawn’s throat was too close to Henry’s hands to be certain they wouldn’t attempt revenge for their thwarted celebration. Henry almost regretted ripping the sleeves out of that sweatshirt; right now unlimited freedom for his arms seemed to be an invitation to filicide.

Fortunately Shawn had made that difficult by spreading himself over Henry’s single bed. Gus was still an available target, having wedged himself into a corner between a dresser and the cabin’s sole window, but there was no more point in blaming Gus than there had been at any point in his lifelong friendship with Shawn. Gus was a passenger.

“I’m going to ask you one more time,” Henry said, trying to keep his voice as calm as possible. “What exactly are you doing here?”

“I’ve decided I haven’t embarrassed myself and my family enough in life, and thought this was a great way to look like a total tool,” Shawn said. “Oh, no, wait. That’s you.”

Henry’s hands clenched into fists. With great mental effort, he forced them to relax. “Have you considered I might be here to investigate a case for a friend?”

“I’m sure you are,” Shawn said. “The case of the missing youth. Or is it the mystery of the lost hair?”

“I realize this is terribly unpleasant for you,” Henry said. “If only there was some way you could have avoided it. You know, like by staying away.”