Donny gasped. “f**k me. Was that Marie-Laure?”
“It were,” Patrick said. “You need to stop drinkin’ like that, Donny.”
He sniffed. “Couldn’t see straight before I started drinkin’. Ain’t gettin’ any blinder, am I?”
Patrick supposed he was right. Donny had never seen well as a kid, and it had only worsened with the years, his sight fading until there was nothing at all. Blind before he could find the first hair on his chin.
Patrick sighed. “Blindness ain’t ever hindered you so much before.”
“Come to think of it, her t**s did feel familiar,” Donny muttered. “Hey, wait a minute. Where’s me wallet?”
“Long gone, I’ll bet.”
Donny dropped his hand to Patrick’s coat sleeve, gripping the fabric behind his elbow between two fingers. “Women,” he bleated. “Takin’ your money whether you bed ’em o
