" Paul was shocked. He had not expected this. He had never heard anything like it. He smiled to himself and knew that even if somebody had explained i... all to him, he wouldn't have understood a word. But he liked the idea of being named as a Cheyenne warrior. He felt more like a Cheyenne then he ever did as a white boy in Kansas City. Actually, he realized that he was less than white there too; there he was just a whore's son. In most places that didn't even make you human. He smiled and nodded. I had called his bluff and lost. I ordered another shot to drown my embarrassment. “How are you getting home?” Becca asked.I was clearly drunk and in no shape to drive.“I can give her a ride home,” Clint volunteered. “I’ll close up. You can clock out and take her home.”I stumbled out to Clint’s car and he drove me back to my apartment.“Do you want to come in for a drink?” I asked Clint.“No. I’m good.”“You sure?” I asked again, this time drunkenly rubbing my hand on his thigh.He looked down. More

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