His arms splay wide, and one corner of his lips smirk while the other holds a toothpick in place. “Jesus, that’s some f*****g hospitality you got here. I just came to talk to you about easing your burden.” His foot scoots backward as if to steady himself. I take a more scrutinizing look at his face and note his bloodshot eyes. Is he drunk? He may be slightly unsteady, but he’s not totally trashed. Maybe he’s still riding a binge from last night. Whatever is going on, I want no part of it. “You shouldn’t be here. My dad could have seen you.” “I saw the rest of you Banettis get out at St. Luke’s, so relax. That’s why I’m here. I wanted to talk to you because I know you’re in a rough place.” He steps closer until his face is only a foot or so from the door. I don’t want to retreat from my pos
