25
DOG GUY
“Champagne?” Kevin asked.
“I have a headache.”
“Ah, well. More for me.”
“It’s ten thirty in the morning.” Lennox checked his watch. “Ten forty-five.”
“It’s cocktail hour somewhere in the world.” Kevin swallowed a mouthful, then tossed a package of Tylenol onto Lennox’s desk. “Take these. I knew you’d get a hangover.”
“Alcohol isn’t responsible for this. Not completely, anyway.”
“Things didn’t go well with the police?”
No, they didn’t. Telling an unsmiling cop that Leah had hurled a gift bag filled with glitter, contraceptives, and s*x toys at a mugger had been difficult enough for Lennox, and then had come the awkwardness of explaining that his girlfriend thought he was called Kevin. On Monday evening when the officer had asked him for ID, he’d actually considered prete
