I’m on the first flight to Philadelphia. My band is waiting for me there. I’ve got to formulate a plan, got to figure out something other than the way things are going. And I know just who to call.
“Hello.” The scratchy aged voice answers.
“Hey Will. It’s Sparrow.”
“Damn girl. Good to hear your voice. You in town?”
“Sure am Will. And I need your help.”
“Well come on over sugar, you know the place.”
I close the phone and head out into the Philadelphian maze. About an hour later I’m entering Will’s residence. Will is resting on his couch, thirty or more empty whiskey bottles are placed strategically around the floor. Like a puzzle waiting to be solved. Two guys I don’t recognize are playing cards on an overturned fish tank in the back of the room.
“Hey beautiful.” Will says smiling, showing chipped teeth. He looks older than I remember.
“Hey you.” I sit down next to him, my old friend. I tell him everything, about Tommy Lee, about the 7-11, and how I just don’t know what to do next.
And Will just puts his long slender hands on my head, pulls me close and tells me this story.

“You know about Harry Houdini? Some people think he was the greatest magician to ever live. He could escape any chain that you would place on him. Houdini, the great magician. A wizard people called him. Do you know how he died, Sparrow? Houdini was cocky, did not know when to close the curtain. One of his many claims was that he could take any hit above the waist without injury. He could escape the pain. Well all great magicians need one thing. Control of the situation. Well Houdini was at a college in Canada, when a student put this claim to a test. Houdini was relaxed posing for a portrait when the student rushed in and punched Houdini multiple times before the great magician had a chance to react. The great escape artist would die a few weeks later of a ruptured appendix. You know the one trick Houdini never mastered Sparrow?
The disappearing act.”