what? How many years?”
“I don’t know. Since we were kids.”
“And what I got to ask myself is, with friends like you, why would I need enemies?”
“That’s cold. Cliched, but cold. Anyone else from your life still with you, my man? Is it like I’m on the bottom of a long fucking list of good, caring friends?”
“You aren’t on any kind of list. Not made by me.”
Harry watched as Joey got a jelly jar and opened the wine and slowly poured some in the jar. No. Not some. A lot. He poured the jar nearly full. That took half the wine bottle.
Harry could smell the wine from where he sat. He wasn’t really a wine guy. He liked beer, whiskey, some gin. But the wine smelled like flowers and honey and clean women when they took their pants off. The alcohol made his nose hairs twitch. It was very red wine, dark as the strawberry jelly that had originally been in the jar. Harry licked his lips.
“Sure you don’t want some?” Joey asked. “You look like a man would love a drink.”
Harry shook his head.
“Just a sip, Harry?”
Harry considered. That wouldn’t be so bad. Just a sip.
No. One sip. One glass. One bottle. One case. It was all the same. He shook his head again.
Joey found a chair, sat there with his jelly jar of wine, and sipped. “Ah. That’s good. Cheap. But good. You don’t know what you’re missing.”
“Yeah, I do. Sickness in about three hours. A bathroom that smells like vomit. If I make it that far.”
“Oh, come on. It isn’t that bad, is it? It’s not like it’s a crock of wine. It’s one bottle.”
Harry watched as Joey took another long sip, wondered if when Joey finished that glass, he would pour another. If he did, there wouldn’t be any left.
Joey watched Harry watch him sip from the jelly jar, said, “Oh, for Pete’s sake. You talk like you’re an alcoholic.”
“I may be.”
“Don’t be silly. You can lay it down anytime.”
“That’s what I’m trying to do.”
“What could one drink hurt? It’s a toast to our friendship.”
“Which isn’t going that well.”
“Sure it is. You always forgive me, don’t you?”
There was a knock on the door.
When Harry answered, Tad was standing there. He wasn’t dressed up, but he had on a sports coat and his hair was combed and his bald spot was shiny under the porch light. Coat he wore was one of those writer-style jackets—blue corduroy with black leather elbow patches.
“Tad?”
“Yep. Thought I’d take you to dinner.”
“Dinner?”
“Sometimes called supper.”
“Sure…Why?”
“I’m bored.”
“Come in.”
When Tad came in he sniffed slightly, eyeballed the wine. He looked at Harry, then at Joey.
“I’m not drinking,” Harry said.
“I wasn’t going to ask.”
“Hey,” Joey said. “You’re the drunk.”
“What?”
“The other night at the bar.”
“Oh, you must be Joey.”
“That’s right. I helped haul your ass out to Harry’s car.”
“Thanks. Lucky you didn’t help haul me up these stairs. You might have gotten a hernia. Harry managed that by himself.”
“You did some funny stuff that night. Drunk luck?”
“Sure,” Harry said. “Not that I really remember.”
“What’s your name?”
“Tad.”
“How about a drink, Tad?”
Tad paused, took a deep breath. “No thanks. Smells cheap.”
“It is, but it still does the deed.”
“So does hair tonic.”
Joey raised his glass to Tad. “You sound like a man of experience.”
Harry cut in quick. “I don’t know about dinner, Tad. I mean, I got Joey over.”
Tad studied Joey. “Any friend of yours is a friend of mine. Aren’t we ex-drunks together, you and I?”
“Ah, so this is the guy’s got you on the wagon,” Joey said.
“I got myself on the wagon,” Harry said.
“We’re both on it,” Tad said. “I’m just the guy drives the wagon a little.”
“That’s thoughtful of you, Tad. That’s good of you,” Joey said.
“Kind of guy I am.”
Joey grinned and licked some wine off his lips, said, “You and me, ’cause Harry’s your friend, we’re friends?”
“Friendly enough. Sure, I’ll enjoy your company.”
“Damn nice of you, Tad. Damn nice.”
“Very well then,” Harry said, pulling his coat off the back of the couch. “I could eat something. Where to?”
“Steak place. New. I don’t know the name of it. Something like Attila’s.”
“Khan’s,” Harry said. “I drove by it.”
“I love a good steak,” Joey said. “But alas, I seem to be temporarily short on funds.”
“Come to think of it,” Harry said, “how ritzy is this place?”
“It’s on me,” Tad said. “The both of you.”
“Can’t beat that,” Joey said. “Let me get myself a little refresher, and I’ll be ready.”
“Going with me, leave the wine,” Tad said.
Joey paused. “Leave it?”
“Yeah.”
“Why?”
“Because I don’t want it in my car. We go in my car, no wine.”
“We can meet you there in Harry’s car,” Joey said.
“Not if I’m buying.”
“Leave it, Joey,” Harry said.
Joey sloshed the wine in the jar, then turned it up and chugged it down. He walked over to the bottle, poured the jar full, tipped it to his mouth, gulped. Some of the wine came out alongside his mouth and ran down his chin. He chugged it all. He picked up the empty wine bottle and dropped it in the trash can, wiped his face with the back of his sleeve.
“Ready,” Joey said.
Harry felt nervous. Here he was with his oldest friend, a big old asshole, and his newest friend, who was kind of an asshole. He wondered what this said for him, riding around with two assholes.
Thing was, he was scared. It was a new route, and that meant new sounds. He tried to concentrate on the things Tad had taught him. Tried to draw his focus in, let everything that was unimportant remain outside. Way outside.
So far, in the car, it was working swell.
