boys, girls and music . . why do they need gin?

Y’all might as well come on out,” I said. “I know you’re there. I can smell you.”
“Smell me? But I just took a shower this morning!” an indignant voice drifted out of the shadows.
There was a loud sound, like someone was getting smacked upside the head. Then another voice let out a low mutter.
“Shut up, idiot.

Burn, baby, burn,” she muttered in a hard, satisfied voice.
I cleared my throat. “As much as I hate to interrupt the supreme satisfaction you’re taking in watching the mansion blaze to the ground, I’d really
like to get out of here before the whole house collapses on top of us.

There's an old man sitting next to meMaking love to his tonic and gin.

I shrugged the questions away. I’d find out the answers soon enough—body by bloody, bloody body.

I have been black and blue in some spot, somewhere, almost all my life from too intimate contacts with my own furniture.