bumped then into Portia’s legs, and she laughed and bent down to hug him. “You are so cute!”
Alvin groaned, bumped the crocodile against Portia’s hands.
Quietly, Julian said, “Let’s get you in that hot tub, huh?”
“I just realized I don’t have a bathing suit.” This small, terrible thing nearly broke her.
“You can climb in naked,” Portia said. “We’ll leave you alone.”
THIRTY-FOUR
TEQUILA MENU
Tequila is made from the fermented juice of the blue agave plant, and connoisseurs know there are four grades, just as there are grades of scotch or bourbon: blanco, bottled immediately; reposado, or “rested,” aged in oak for two months to less than a year; añejo, aged for at least a year; and extra añejo, aged for at least three years. We have created a splendid menu of tequila creations for your tasting pleasure.
OUR FAVORITE:
Chinaco Negro Mojito
Extra-añejo tequila mixed with fresh lime juice, crushed mint leaves, a touch of sugar, and Pellegrino.
THIRTY-FIVE
Ivan held up a shot of tequila, looking through the thin gold liquid to the bar beyond, seeing in diamond-shaped blasts of color the outline of martini glasses. He closed one eye to see if that lessened the blur, but it didn’t, particularly. He knocked the shot back, feeling it burn all the way down, searing into the damage he’d done to his esophagus over the years of hard, hard drinking.
He poured another.
Patrick sat down beside him, bringing with him a scent of worry and disappointment. “Ivan, it’s time to go. You have to stop drinking or you’ll feel horrible tomorrow.”
“Too late,” he said.
Even Patrick looked slightly—only slightly—disheveled after the nightmare service. He’d slipped his tie off and opened the collar of his shirt two buttons. His normally carefully coxcomb hair was damp and flopping. “Why are you doing this?”
“Because I need to get fucked up. Because I totally fucked up.”
“It was a bad night, that’s all. It just happens.”
“No,” he said, hearing his own voice rumble from somewhere deep in his chest. “Way before that. Way before.” Something told him to stop talking. Not to spill his secrets. That Patrick had loved Chef long before he had met Ivan.
But hadn’t he known that this wouldn’t last, this sweet little sliver of happiness? “I fucked up a long time ago.”
Patrick stood up. He plucked the bottle from Ivan’s hand.
“What the fuck?”
“Time to go home,” he said in that prissy way, his nose in the air. He carried the bottle across the room to the bar, and put on his coat. “You need to come with me, Ivan. You’re going to feel just terrible in the morning, and there’s no need to beat yourself up. Come home and let me put you in the bath and wash your back. What do you say?”
“I’m really a bastard,” Ivan said, climbing to his feet. “I don’t know why you like me.”
Patrick half-smiled and helped Ivan into his coat. “Oh, don’t go maudlin on me, love. You know it’s unflattering.”
“It’s my fault the INS came,” Ivan said.
For one moment, Patrick stilled. “What do you mean?”
“A while back, I tipped ’em off.” The memory gave him a vision of his heart as a black, oozing thing. “Like, before I knew she was gonna be good.”
For a long moment, Patrick simply stood there, and closed his eyes. He sighed. “We’ll talk in the morning. Let’s just go home tonight. Get some sleep.”
Ivan nodded heavily, suddenly embarrassed to be drunk. Patrick deserved better. He plodded behind him to the car, taking in the bite of the air and a million stars. Patrick unlocked his BMW with little beeps and Ivan opened the door, but didn’t quite get in. With his hands on the roof of the car, he tipped his head back to let the starshine bathe him, cover him with that cold farawayness. “That’s so fucking beautiful.” His breath came from him in a soft white cloud, blurring the stars. “Do you think there are other planets? You think there’s somebody out there on some other planet who got drunk on some local cactus juice who is looking up at the cold, cold sky and our stars and wondering who is out there?”
“Maybe,” Patrick said, and he paused, too. “It really is beautiful. We’re lucky to live here.”
“We are,” Ivan said, and dropped into the car, folding his long legs up as he closed the door. He inclined his head, thinking of what a house on another planet might look like, what they cooked. “I wonder what their best delicacy is there, what new things