“They didn’t… grow back?”
Bradley shook his head. “They didn’t,” he said. “Not mine. Hello, Krishna,” he said.
Alan looked to his neighbors’ porch. Krishna stood there, stock still, against the wall.
“Friend of yours, huh?” Krishna said. “Boyfriend?”
“He offered me a bottle of wine if I let him take me home,” Bradley said. “Best offer I had all week. Wanna make it a threesome? An ’ow you say ‘mange ma twat?’”
Krishna contorted his face into an elaborate sneer. “Puke,” he said.
“Bye, Krishna,” Buddy said. Alan put his key into the lock and let them in.
Blaine made a hobbling beeline for the sideboard and picked up the Jim Beam Apollo 8 commemorative decanter that Adam kept full of Bushmills 1608 and poured himself a tall glass of it. He drank it back in two swallows, then rolled his tongue around in his mouth with his eyes closed while he breathed out the fumes.
“I have been thinking about that bottle ever since you bought it,” he said. “This stuff is legendary. God, that’s good. I mean, that’s fucking magical.”
“It’s good,” Andrew said. “You can have more if you want.”