After working my way through the ever-expanding crowd, I finally found a spot that wasn’t too dirty, or covered with people making out. The stage was a fair distance away, but not so far that I couldn’t at least make out people setting up for the first performance of the afternoon. I smiled and nodded to the folks to my right as I spread out my blanket. My bedroll would act as a pillow for now, and the show was about to start.
“Hey, neighbor. I’m Sullivan Conyers,” a gritty voice said on the other side of me.
I turned to look at its owner. He was an average-looking man, if you were comparing him to Rock Hudson. But movie stars aside, I thought he was enough of a looker to merit a second glance, with his long brown hair falling in waves around his shoulders and in his face, and hazel eyes
