”“Forget the bike. Let’s drink.”“Ha. I don’t know.”“Come on. Please.” Then she turned on the charm. “Daddy, please.”That “dadd..., please” was usually enough to melt me into doing anything, from giving her money to scoring weed for her. A walk to the store and one and a half six-packs of beers later, we were on the bench of a deserted park with the sun going down. She was drinking her beer feeling all grown up. I was waiting for the sun to go away completely, lest some neighbor sees me. She was. “The girls are great at draining my nutsack, but a guy needs some downtime with his team.”I nodded my understanding, grabbed some bar snacks and called for a bourbon and water. I was way past beer in my mind. I tasted the bourbon. It was moderately confused, as if someone had decided that Lexington was somewhere in Manitoba. Ah well, must needs make do.The guys were great fellows. They weren’t interested in rehashing what happened at Metek’at. They kept their talk to current training, bitching. More

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