Scott's stomach tightened. His body memory recalled the time the principal had suspended him from high school for spreading liquid banana peel on the hall floors and then ringing the fire drill alarm. The picture of 3000 kids and 200 teachers slipping and sliding and crawling out of the school still made Scott smile.
"What'll you have?" Tyrone gestured at a waiter while asking
Scott for his preference.
"Corona, please."
Tyrone took charge. "Waiter, another double and a Corona." He waved the waiter away. "That's better." Tyrone was already slightly inebriated. "I guess you think I'm a real shit hole, huh?"
"Sort of," Scott agreed. "I guess you could put it that way." Scott was impressed with Ty's forthright manner. "I can think of a bunch more words that fit the bill." At least Tyrone admitted it. That was a step in the right direction.
Ty laughed. "Yeah, I bet you could, and you might be right." Scott's drink came. He took a thirsty gulp from the long neck bottle."
"Ease on down the road!" Ty held his half empty drink in the air. It was peace offering. Scott slowly lifted his and their drinks met briefly. They both sipped again, and an awkward silence followed.
"Well, I guess it's up to me to explain, isn't it?" Tyrone ven- tured.
"You don't have to explain anything. I understand," Scott said caustically.
"I don't think you do, my friend. May I at least have my last words before you shoot?" Tyrone's joviality was not as effective when nervous.