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“I’m sitting on the floor next to a radiator in my underwear drinking white wine at ten in the morning. Do I look like I’m in any position to be seeing anything except the inside of this apartment and whatever freaky shit my girl wants to do to me next?”
“What kind of freaky shit?” Hawk asks, and there’s genuine curiosity in his voice now.
“Private freaky shit.”
“Come on, man. Give me something.”
I look down at the wine bottle in my hand. Then back up at them. I have to get them the fuck out of here.
I have to get weird.
“Once I finish this bottle,” I say, with the absolute deadpan delivery of a man who has made peace with his choices, “it’s going up my ass.”
The silence that follows is profound.
Bruiser’s face does something complicated. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“The wine bottle.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Up your ass.”
“All the way up my naughty ass. Then she’s going to whip my balls. Maybe step on them, too.”
Hawk takes a step back. “Jesus fucking Christ, Wraith.”
“Everyone needs a hobby.”
“That’s not a hobby.”
“You’d be surprised what the human body can handle with proper preparation and enthusiasm.” I lift the bottle slightly, examining it in the morning light. “This one’s got a nice taper to it. Good glass weight. The rooster on the side adds a whimsical touch. You want a swig before I stick it up my ass?”
Bruiser is staring at me like I’ve just told him I’m actually three raccoons in a trench coat. “You’re fucking with us.”
“I’m really not. I’m just a man on a journey.”
“A journey to stick wine bottles up your ass?”
“You want to watch?”
More profound silence.
Then Hawk shakes his head. “Alright. Alright, I’m done. We’re leaving. This is too weird even for me, and I once saw a guy fuck a tailpipe.”
“Consensually?” I ask.
“What?”
“Did the tailpipe consent?”
Hawk looks at me for a long, long moment. Then he turns to Bruiser. “We’re going. Now. Before this gets any fucking weirder.”
Bruiser nods. He’s already moving toward the door, which is still hanging open on its broken hinges. “If you see the Wilder girl, you call it in. Fifty grand and a promotion, Wraith. Don’t forget that.”
“I won’t forget,” I say.
