“You really look like s**t!” Angelo shouted over the serious cranking of the R&B band in the corner of the bar and everyone else shouting to be heard by their companions.
“Thanks, Buddy. Big help.” Russell looked up at the mirror behind the broad, wooden bar. Bottles of liquor were lined up and down the mirror’s length. He could see only one eye reflected between the silver spouts of a bottle of Johnny Red and the next of Jack Daniels Black. The dark rings beneath the eye made it look more a ghost’s than his own.
“I’m serious, man. You look even worse than the night I told you what you did to Melanie.”
“Can’t you just drink in silence?”
Angelo licked the salt off the back of his hand, knocked back the Cuervo Reserva shooter, and sucked on a piece of lime.
“Nope, I’m a chatty drunk. You know……
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