“I’m, like, his semi-idealized, potentially dangerous impulse invite,” Leslie said.

“You want to get stoned before this thing starts?” Marlon said.

“Definitely.”

She walked with Jake and Marlon, and Marlon’s silent barefoot companion Yvette, through the bar and the spacious, dark-wood-paneled dance hall, out past the small row of motel rooms, to the field adjacent to the rows of white folding chairs. There were a few tents out in the field, with more being raised presently by the more hirsute guests. Jake gave a sharp whistle and Alamo, chased grinningly by a matted golden retriever, raced toward them from around the corner of the building.

“That’s where me and Yvie are sleeping,” Marlon said, gesturing toward an expertly pinioned blue teepee set off a hundred yards from the others.

“Really worried about privacy, huh?” Leslie said.

“It’s more the opposite, I think,” Yvette said. These were the first words Leslie had heard her speak. She had bright red hair, short on the sides, with a tiny ducktail pompadour in the middle. Her face was tan and weathered, drawing out the brightness of her deep green eyes.

“What do you mean?” Leslie said.

“A lighthouse,” said Yvette. “We want every ship in shape. You know, shipshape ships and shops? For the conscientious consumer of nautical know-how?”

“Yvette’s trying to make her life into a poem,” Marlon said. “A really fucked-up poem.”

Jake lowered his voice to a rumbling monotone. “I figured you’d be okay with a kind of unconventional scene, yeah?”

They stood in a circle behind Marlon’s tent and passed a bowl.

“How do you know the wedding people?” Leslie said.

“I was in a band with Keith for a while,” Marlon said. “In Spokane. We’re going to play a surprise set later. It’s gonna be like, Hey, Keith, remember these songs you wrote like ten years ago? No? Well, we’ve been practicing for weeks, so you better catch up, bro.”

“I wonder if he’ll appreciate that,” Leslie said. “On his wedding day and all.”

“On a bright blue day in early June, I met a dog named Jesus,” Yvette recited, as if she’d been cued. “And though I knew it not that hour, I entered into wonder true.”

“Those are the first lines of Yvette’s book,” Marlon said. “She’s been honing them. Relentlessly.”

“What happens next?” Leslie said.

“Salvation,” Yvette said. “And dog stuff. It’s based on market research plus my own unique blend of humor and wisdom.”

“Sounds great.”

“I have a lot of confidence in my approach.”