Brad was so thin he looked like a corpse. He was still tall, though, and his hair and beard were grown out into long, bad-smelling straggles of knot and grime. In the half-light of the garage, he had the instantly identifiable silhouette of a street person.
He gathered Adam up in a hug that reeked of piss and booze, a hug like a bundle of twigs in his arms.
“I love you,” he whispered.
Andrew backed away and held him at arm’s length. His skin had gone to deep creases lined with soot, his eyes filmed with something that looked like pond scum.
“Brady. What are you doing here?”
He held a finger up to his lips, then opened the door again onto the now-empty alley. Alan peered the way that Davey and Krishna had gone, just in time to see them turn a distant corner.
“Give it another minute,” Blake said, drawing the door nearly closed again. A moment later, they heard another door open and then Kurt’s chain-draped boots jangled past, headed the other way. They listened to them recede, and then Brian swung the door wide again.
“It’s okay now,” he said.
They stepped out into the sunlight and Bert started to walk slowly away. Alan caught up with him and Bert took his arm with long bony fingers, leaning on him. He had a slight limp.
“Where have you been?” Alan asked when they had gone halfway home through deft, confident turnings led by Blake.