Rickie Clay nurses his cigarette as if it were his last. “We were just kids back then.” Smoke cascades out his nostrils. “We were just a couple of teenage boys, a couple of teenage boys and an orangutan that played the drums.” He stares out to a landscape only he can see.
Frankie Clay speaks up, “When Uncle Sam came calling you didn’t say no in those days. We still trusted the government.”
“So you secretly worked for the federal government while posing as a pop band?” the off-screen interviewer asks.
“No! It was always about the music first!” Rickie fumes.
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