Barra da Tijuca, Rio de Janeiro

Friday. 12:00. Barra da Tijuca. That should be another normal Friday for Vini and Enzo. They both left school at the same schedule as they always did, nothing important happened during that day, Vini spent the entire morning with Belgium and Enzo was... well, lonely. But as I mentioned before, that Friday would be different. And obviously the title of the chapter has a lot to do with it. But that I will explain in the following paragraphs.

The two went back in Julio's bus to Lake Buena Vista, not to confuse it with the city in Florida. As soon as the bus stopped, Enzo and Vini could not stop discussing an urgent matter. Or at least, almost.

- If a lawyer sues a lawyer. - Enzo paused. - Will he need to hire a lawyer to defend him?

- Why on earth would one lawyer sue another? - Vini returned the question.

- I don't know. Maybe they hate each other. Or maybe one stopped at the other's place in the firm.

- But I think the lawyer can defend himself.

- Defend himself?

- Yes, he doesn't need to contact another lawyer to defend him. He or she already knows the tricks. We, the dummies, are the ones who need to hire a lawyer to get us out of the hole.

And then Enzo and Vini met a resident of Lake. So far, nothing unusual. Until Enzo noticed that he was wearing a black shirt with the face of .... Yes, that's right, Phil Collins.

- What a pretty shirt, Marcos! - Enzo grinned.

- Thanks, partner. - Marcos replied. - I'm going to his concert.

Excuse me?

- Who's show?

- Phil Collins, Enzo!

- Phil Collins will give a concert here? In Rio de Janeiro?

- That's right. Tonight, at the Maracanã.

Enzo's eyes sparkled.

- Can I still get a ticket?

- I don't know, my friend. But if you want to take a chance, you'd better run.

And that's exactly what he did. Enzo left Vini behind and raced to... Vini's apartment, of course. He turned on his computer and logged on to the internet, the greatest source of information since the New York Times. Isn't it?

- Vini, Phil Collins! - Enzo pointed at the screen, like a child pointing at a toy in the store.

- Yes, Enzo, I know.

- Phil Collins is going to perform here! Sussudio, Easy Lover, Take Me Home, Dance Into the Light, Something happened on the way to Heaven, Two Hearts, In the Air Tonight! Let's do the air drum live!

- Enzo, you know that the price of the tickets must be a kidney.

- So what, Vini? Holy shit! We are not talking about Joe Robinson! It's Phil Collins. One Oscar, two Golden Globes and eight Grammys!

- I know that, Enzo. You remind me so much of it.

- And he is one of the only three artists who have sold more than 100 million albums in a band and solo.

This was brand new information for Vini.

- Really?

- Yes, you imbecile! Michael Jackson, Paul McCartney and Phil Collins. The only ones in the history of mankind to achieve it!

- And Sting?

- Sting was too busy not having tantric sex.

Whatever Enzo meant by that.

However, Enzo kept bothering Vini the whole day. So much that the day turned into night. But the truth is he wouldn't leave Vini's apartment without his much-preferred "yes". Not even if he had to appeal.

- Vini! Let's go to the show! - Enzo insisted, probably for the thousandth time.

- Enzo, how much do you think you can pay for a ticket?

- I dunno. - Enzo looked in his pockets for some money. - I have three bucks.

- You're so lame.

- Vini, please! You know I've always wanted to see Phil Collins live! When will I have this opportunity again? Have you ever considered that? People don't get any younger, Vini!

- I do know that. But you also know that you need money to do certain things.

- You give me a discount on the rent.

Wait a minute.

- You don't pay rent.

- That's it! You won't miss a thing!

- Enzo, you stupid idiot. I don't know.

Fortunately, luck smiled on Enzo. Because Vini's aunt, who hardly appears in the stories, admittedly, was leaving the apartment wearing... Casual. Too casual for that Friday night.

- Hello, pussycat. - Enzo said with a mischievous smile.

- Hi there, prince. - Vini's aunt answered.

- I'm about to pass out. - Vini whined.

- Your nephew doesn't want to take me to the Phil Collins concert.

- Why not, Vinicius?

There you go. Enzo just needed an ally. The game turned around.

- Aunt, a Phil Collins' concert is very, very expensive. And it's tonight! Imagine the price of the tickets...

- You should give it a shot, at least.

Finally someone with common sense, Enzo thought. But Vini didn't like his friend's cheap bribery. So he had to fight back.

- You're just saying that because you like Enzo more.

That's it. A good response.

- It's not because I like Enzo more, Vinicius...

Oops. Vini didn't see that one coming.

- I just think you should enjoy your Friday. Well, at least I will. - She concluded.

After that there was nothing else to say, except...

- All right, all right. We'll go. But if you don't have a ticket, no deal!

- All right.

- You can't complain like a spoiled brat.

- Understood, Captain.

- No appeals and no nastiness.

- Be quiet, Vini!

Still, it could be worse.

With a little more than four hours to go until the show, Vini put on a white shirt and jeans. He adjusted the watch on his left wrist and fastened his shoes. Then he heard knocking on the door. Basically he was going to answer the person responsible for him having something to do on a Friday night. And he did not disappoint, as Enzo was wearing quite fancy clothes, a well tailored suit, butterfly tie, Italian shoes and a wristwatch, which left Vini surprised.

- Are you going to present the Oscars?

- Nobody watches that shit, Vini. I'm going to watch Phil Collins. One Oscar, two Globe...

- Yes, yes, I know.

- I must dress appropriately for a music legend.

- You do?

- Yes, Vini! You idiot!

Now, before Vini locked up the apartment, a question needed to be answered as soon as possible.

- How are we going to the Maracanã?

- What do you mean? - Enzo didn't understand the question.

- Enzo, the traffic is a mess. It's Friday night and it's raining like shit. You know that people from Barra da Tijuca drive worse when it rains. The streets might be a shitshow.

- What is the idea?

- Subway.

Enzo thought it was a good idea. But there was still a problem. Obviously.

- I don't have a subway card. Could you give me yours?

- Are you joking? I'm paying for the tickets and you want me to pay for your ride to Maracanã?

- Wait, wait, wait, wait. You're going to pay for my ticket?

Uh-oh. Vini forgot one of Enzo's main lessons. Never say more than the essential, especially if what you say will compromise you.

As it turned out, Enzo was not going to miss the opportunity to abuse Vini, since he let that compromising information slip. Anyway, they still needed to get to the subway door, a short ten-minute walk. But in the rain and at night, it could be a tricky ride. As the two were walking, the discussion continued. And the subject remained the same.

- Phil Collins is not Genesis! - Enzo complained. - Phil Collins improved Genesis.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

- Well, they were different styles. Peter Gabriel's Genesis was progressive, right? Phil Collins' is more pop, people find it more fun.

- And better, Vini, don't forget that.

- Well, this is a point of view.

- Vini, Genesis before Phil Collins took over the vocals was nothing more than a cult of long, slow music. A friend showed me a progressive Genesis song. Twenty-five minutes! Of instrumental! Instrumental!

- I don't understand. You like Elton John's piano solo in "Levon" and in "Funeral For a Friend/Love Lies Bleeding".

- It's completely different! The Levon instrumental is genius. Davey Johnstone's guitar is outstanding!

- So, the instrumental is not the problem.

- Of course it isn't! But the instrumental of progressive rock is tedious. It just sits there and never leaves! It sounds like me when I am constipated.

- That's great! A mental image that I didn't ask for that night.

After paying the subway tickets, Vini and Enzo had to survive the rush hour underground. As everyone knows, Rio de Janeiro is a big metropolis, but the subway line is absolutely pathetic. And it gets worse. Recognizably pathetic for years and years of ineffective political management. Nevertheless, Enzo and Vini soon expected the subway to come empty from the starting stop, in the direction of Maracanã. Slowly, the train emerged from the small tunnel, with a burned out headlight and sparks flying. Nothing very impressive. So it happened. As soon as the doors opened, the people behind literally ran over Vini and Enzo like hungry animals, whatever it took to get to the seats faster and sit down. Vini dropped to the floor and needed help to get up.

- Fucking douchewaffle! - he complained. - They sound like fucking animals!

- And they probably aren't even going to the show. - Enzo made a completely irrelevant remark.

But then what was already bad got much worse, as Vini reminded them that the subway wouldn't take them to Maracanã. They would have to transfer to another station, a more crowded and chaotic one, in Botafogo.

- This is going to be a slaughter. - Vini predicted.

As soon as the doors opened in the first station, there was no more room for anyone to enter. But who said this was a deterrent? People were shoving each other, slapping each other, to enter the train. Not just that. To get out of the subway was almost a war, only the weapons were office folders and cell phones. Enzo already felt the frustration of having to leave that pandemonium and join another in a few minutes.

Even though Vini predicted the worst, the exit in Botafogo was very calm. The problem was really getting on the subway to Maracanã. That would be the biggest challenge. And the train was getting closer. People were already piling up near the doors. But then, Vini had a brilliant idea. Well, he, as well as Enzo, were short in stature. They could very well sneak into the middle of the crowd. As it turned out, Vini's plan proved to be very clever. Because as soon as the doors opened, Enzo and Vini were the first to sit in the limited seats avaliable.

- Vini, you are a bloody genius.

- Thank you, my good man.

- Not as genius as me, but still, a genius.

- Okay.

- I am Neil Armstrong and you are Buzz Aldrin Jr.

- O-k.

Vini was more surprised that Enzo knew who was Buzz Aldrin Jr, the second man to walk on the moon.

A few minutes later, Vini and Enzo's journey to the Maracanã finally came to an end. The stadium was only a two-minute walk away. For some weird reason, the streets were empty. A good sign. Or was it bad? Anyway, they went to the stadium ticket office. The window was dirty and the booth was not well lighted, Enzo thought it was closed and the trip had been in vain.

- Tickets for the Phil Collins concert. - Enzo said.

Vini waited a few meters behind him, noticing a suspicious movement of three boys about seven meters ahead. Vini waited for Enzo to get the tickets, but then he thought of an important detail.

- We made it!

Vini was amazed.

- There were tickets available?

- My friend, two! And in the first row! We're going to play trumpet with Harry Kim!

- I'm sorry to ask, but how much did this cost me?

- Do you really want to know?

The answer was unique. But do you want to know?

- I guess not. - Vini answered.

They both entered into the Maracanã. The silence seemed very suspicious. Even more so for a live concert. As soon as they were inside, a man in a suit demanded the tickets. He grimaced and called his colleague to analyze the papers. Problem.

- Do you want me to call Jess LaCroix(*)? - Enzo grumbled.

- Do you know where the VIP room is?

VIP Room?

- VIP Room? - Vini's eyes went wide.

- I have no idea sir. - Enzo replied.

- Come with me.

The man in the suit led Vini and Enzo down a dark and unfamiliar hallway. As they were walking, Vini pulled Enzo by the shoulder, already wondering what trouble Enzo had caused.

- What have you done, you idiot?

- Be quiet, you'll ruin the whole thing if you open your big mouth!

The guy then opened the door for them. There wasn't much in that small square room with yellow walls. Except for a bald man in a wheelchair wearing small glasses. Oh, this man was no less than....

- Phil Collins. - Enzo smiled.

Vini still could not believe it all.

- Enzo, you know when I demanded explanations literally ten seconds ago? Forget it.

After all, there was no reason to fight. Enzo walked over to the most famous drummer in the world and greeted him.

- You are a genius, Phil! The world does not deserve such genius! I play drums because of you.

- No, you don't! - Vini handed him over.

- I know but I could learn.

Phil let out a laugh. Unfortunately, his very poor health did not allow him to leave his place very often. Years and years of concerts and tours worldwide came with a high price. Phil lost part of his hearing and could only get around in a wheelchair due to some surgeries. Unfortunately, his health also made it impossible for him to play drums.

But regardless of this, Enzo and Vini came to see a show. And what a performance it was. Even though very weakened, the man was a genius and still got it. Eight Grammys! He did the best concert he could. He even tried out a few words in the local language. And, to Enzo's delight, even some Genesis songs were remembered. But one question was missing. And Vini asked it at the end of the performance, after Take Me Home finale song.

- How was this night possible, Enzo?

- I counterfeited the tickets with Pacifier.

Very plausible.

- You didn't...

- That little fucker makes everyone miserable, Vini. We need to exploit him a little too, to make us even.

- So... Botton line, you didn't pay anything?

- Not a thing.

- And you still went to the ticket counter because...

- If I told you what my scam was, you wouldn't agree to come.

He probably wouldn't.

- I probably wouldn't. - Vini answered

- So, you get it.

- Did the woman at the ticket counter make a scene?

- Vini, it was almost eleven o'clock on a rainy Friday night. She was in a dark cabin in the middle of nowhere by herself. She didn't give a rat's ass. We could have walked into the stadium smoking pot with two machine guns.

- And the security guards?

- Oh, that part was really fucked up. But he didn't notice the falsification. Pacifier did a good job, I hate to admit it out loud.

Slowly, people were leaving the seats of the most famous football stadium in the world. The Temple of Football, as the Maracanã is called, was getting empty, which is not normal. But there was still one more issue to be settled.

- And now what? - Vini asked.

- Well, we saw the greatest performance of all time, of the greatest of all time. But I really don't know. What do you do once you achieve a dream?

- Do you go and chase after another dream?

Enzo wondered.

- Really? I was going to tell you to leave, but .... A second dream is good too.

As they walked down the stairs of the subway, without the craziness of before and completely empty, Enzo didn't know how to answer the question of minutes ago.

- Vini.

- Yes?

- What other dream?

- How should I know, idiot? The dreams are yours!

(*) FBI Most Wanted character.