THE MIAMI SUN burned hot and bright on the inaugural graduating class of the Frogleman School of Law as Bennie “Fink” Finkel stepped up to the microphone. His curly red hair fluttered beneath his mortarboard cap in the humid breeze like the fronds of the surrounding palm trees.

“Welcome future lawyers of America!” The greeting boomed through a massive sound system erected for the post-ceremony celebration, headlined by a classic rock band that had two legitimate hits in the seventies and featured one of the original roadies.

A few lazy whoops. The graduates lounged in various states of intoxication on blankets and chairs scattered across the law school plaza. Many had broadly interpreted Florida Casual on the invitations to include swimsuits, although No Nudity signs spoke to the solemnity of the occasion.

Danny Teakwell stood to one side, blending easily with the crowd. Tall, tan and blond, he wore board shorts, flipflops and a Nine Lives tee, his surf shop on Hollywood Beach, a few exits north of Miami on I-95.

Watching Fink mop sweat with the puffy sleeve of his black robe, he still couldn’t believe his childhood chum was on the verge of becoming a real lawyer. When they reunited five years ago during the summer of mayhem, Fink was already running a fulltime law practice—without a license. He ended up representing Danny in a murder trial, failing to mention he never bothered to attend law school.

They hadn’t seen each other since Sari’s funeral more than a year ago. Danny had been preoccupied with sinking to rock bottom since she lost her battle with breast cancer.

“Distinguished ladies and gentlemen,” Fink said. “And also my fellow graduates.” He stopped and struck a pose like Henny Youngman waiting for a rimshot. No one laughed. He frowned and continued.

“It is my great honor—” A Frisbee bounced off the speakers and hit him in the face. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer about that,” he said, rubbing his cheek and readjusting his round wire-rimmed glasses. “Me.” Again, he paused. Crickets.

“As I was saying, it is an honor to be your class speaker for this historic event. I’d like to begin by thanking everyone who helped me get this far. First, my parents. I know you’re hiding here somewhere.”

Finally a couple laughs. They appeared to come from the leafy branches of a ficus tree.

He proceeded to recite a list that included his life-coach, pharmacist, and auto mechanic, who all had the same name, and his “good friend” Bruce Springsteen, which drew oohs and aahs. “And, of course, we’re grateful to our generous sponsor, Thomas T. Frogleman.”

“Who the hell is Thomas T. Frogleman?” said Grady Banyon, standing next to Danny, half a foot shorter and wearing a tattered skipper’s cap that reined in his wiry white hair. He owned the Tradewinds Bar and Grill on the ground floor of Danny’s condo building on Hollywood Beach. “The only Frogleman I know is the pest control company with the idiot who does the commercials dressed like a rodent.”

“That’s him,” Danny said. “Toxic Tommy.He donated five million bucks for the naming rights.”

“You’re kidding. Is this law school accredited?”

“Still pending,” Danny said.

Fink was getting wound up on stage, bombastic oration being one of his strengths. “My fellow graduates, in these past three years we have been like family. We broke bread and raised glasses together, laughed and cried together. When disagreements occurred, we sought medical treatment together.”

“You suck, Fink,” someone yelled to applause.

“Yes, I do. Not as much as you, of course. That would be impossible. Allow me to be honest on this joyful day for reflection. You suck, she sucks, he sucks. We all suck.”

His first cheer of the night, from the ficus tree again.

“That’s why we’re at Frogelman. I say take pride in it! We spent our entire lives surrounded by annoying overachievers. Then we stepped into these hallowed, well-fumigated halls and learned the true path to success. Skating by.”

“Same old Fink,” Danny said.

Grady nodded as Danny’s name blasted through the loudspeakers. He looked up in surprise to see Fink pointing at him.

“There he is, my best friend. The very paragon of what I’m telling you. Danny Teakwell has been an underachieving loser and washout for most of his life. But did he let that stop him from winning the Florida Lottery or being acquitted of first-degree murder? He did not. Everyone, give it up for former lottery winner and murder defendant Danny Teakwell!”

The throng hooted and hoisted drinks in Danny’s direction. He forced a smile and waved.

Danny’s greatest life accomplishment in Fink’s view was a distant afternoon at a convenience store where he picked six numbers on a Lotto ticket. He won five million dollars, a fortune he squandered years ago.

“Brothers and sisters,” Fink said, turning somber, eyes downcast, chin dipped. “As we prepare to set out into this cold, cruel world, hear my final message to you.  Never forget—”

No one heard the conclusion because a guitar tech for the classic rock band plugged in a Les Paul for a sound check and hit a power chord that ignited the crowd. Fink slumped offstage.

Danny and Grady caught up with him on the way out.

“Danny! I haven’t seen you since … Sari’s funeral. How have you been doing? Stupid question. I should’ve called more. I’ve been so wrapped up in law school and … hell, that’s no excuse.”

“No problem. There’s never anything good to say.”

“Thanks for coming.”

“How could I miss seeing my former attorney graduate from law school? Congratulations.”

“We’ll see how the state bar feels about it. I not only have to pass the bar exam, they have to approve my character,” he said with air quotes.

“The practicing-law-without-a-license thing?”

“Yeah, that. I was expecting it. I knew they were going to hold a grudge. They’re jealous of me. Do you know how many so-called real lawyers ever successfully defend someone in a murder trial?”

“No idea. How many?”

“I don’t know either, but it’s rare.”

Fink patted Grady on the back. “How are you doing, captain? Good to see you too. How’s the Tradewinds?”

“Fine, fine,” he said, scowling. “A law school named after a guy who jumps up and down on TV in a rat costume?”

“What can I say? It’s the only one I got into.”

Grady muttered something and strolled away to complain about last night’s Marlins’ loss to a passerby in a teal jersey.

“What are your plans?” Danny said. “Do you have a job?”

“I had one, at Frogleman Pest Control, interning in their legal department. I was hoping for a permanent in-house job, but they fired me.”

“What did you do?” Danny said, although he wasn’t sure he wanted to know. Fink’s history of erratic behavior was long and checkered.

“Absolutely nothing.”

“Nothing nothing? Or something nothing?”

“They assigned me to respond to customer complaints. One day a woman called to say she got sick and had to go to the hospital after the service technician left. She asked if the pesticide could be responsible. I said, of course. It’s poison. What do you expect? She asked what she should do and I suggested hiring a lawyer.”

“I can see where the company might have an issue with that.”

“Not me. They told me to keep the customers happy. She got a six-figure settlement and even sent me a thank you note. How much happier can you get? Anyway, I’m moving back to Hollywood to open a solo practice.”

“Happy ending. It will be great having you back.”

A staccato keyboard riff shattered the calm as the band opened with their first hit. The graduates went wild.

Fink shook his head. “I can’t believe that guy ruined my speech. I was the rockstar up there. I had them eating out of my hand. You liked it, right?”

“It was, um, unique. So you’re pals with Bruce Springsteen? How did I miss that?”

“Saw him in the back of a cab once, pretty sure.”

“What was your unforgettable final message?”

“First you have to pretend you’re in the audience listening.”

“Alright. I’m pretending.”

“Ready?”

“And waiting.”

He spread his arms and declaimed, “Never forget, my dear friends. The ambulance you chase may one day be your own.”

“What does that mean?”

“Du-uh, it’s a metaphor.”

“For what?”

“If it’s too deep, there’s no point explaining it.”

“You have no idea, do you?”

He shrugged. “I liked the way it sounded. Profound. Hey, I hope you didn’t mind me bragging on you out there.”

“Mind? Why would I mind being called a loser and washout in front of a large group of strangers?”

“Not that part. I mean about winning the lottery and getting off on a murder charge.”

“Fink …”

“What’s wrong?”

“Never mind. Congrats again. I have to run Grady back to Hollywood to open the Tradewinds.”

“What about Nine Lives? How’s your surf shop going?”

“It’s going.” Down the drain. He hadn’t been there in a month. “Don’t be a stranger when you get back to Hollywood.”

“It might be a while. I have to study for the bar exam. No way to fake it.”

“Good luck on it.”

They did a handshake-hug and Danny walked away to find Grady.

“Call me if you need a lawyer!” Fink shouted after him.