DEC. 31, 1999

“You two look a fool,” Demarco said.

The Milk sisters grinned at each other through the ‘2000’-shaped glasses they were wearing. “Too drunk to care!” Jill, the elder sister, said. “Goodbye, twentieth century! And fuck you!”

Brooklyn squinted up at the Times Square countdown clock. He definitely needed a new eyeglasses prescription. Nine minutes. A new start, or a helluva lot of headaches if the work his company had done to Y2K-proof its clients failed to pass muster. His arm found Evelyn’s waist, and she gave him a kiss on the cheek.

“I wasn’t sure we were going to make it,” she said.

“Ain’t out of the woods yet.” He scratched his nose. “I wonder what your sister’s doing.”

“Hopefully something completely irresponsible but safe,” she said. “If it’s good she’ll put it up on LiveJournal, and we can read all about it.”

He rolled his stiff neck. Way too much time at the computer. Forty-nine wasn’t as forgiving as his twenties and thirties had been, and a sheath of fat was starting to collect around his waist. I resolve to spend more time on the treadmill. He laughed.

“What?” Evelyn said.

“Nothing.” Something caught his eye. The Moon. A waning crescent. It gave him a weird feeling. A little lonely but satisfied. Like the end of a long day. “Any resolutions you want me to remind you of in a few months?”

“Do some work for the Bradley campaign.”

“The basketball player? You like him over Gore?”

“I’d prefer a woman run, but I like that Bradley’s not tied to Bill Clinton.”

“Fair. Anything more personal?”

She smiled. “Get my husband out from behind his desk and maybe catch more live music this year.”

“I’ll drink to that. Metaphorically.”

“You could probably do a toast. A sip.”

“Nah. Slippery slope. I’m good.”

Demarco put his arms around both of them. He and Brooklyn had gone to an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting together that morning, and he was staying the weekend in their spare room. “Quit lovin’ on each other. We gotta party goin’ on.”

The Milks, Demarco… longtime friends, although how they’d all initially met escaped him at the moment. Evelyn… lover, partner, ass-kicking lawyer. He counted himself lucky to have them in his life.

Six minutes. A new fucking century. It’s gonna be a helluva time.

“Okay,” Andy said. “Let it run. Hands off.”

“You sure?” Caliban said.

“This is the one.” She watched a little longer as the clock counted down. “Good luck, Brook. Happy New Year.”