It was Christmas Eve and I had nowhere to go.
I was no longer welcome at the Big House, and, while I hadn’t spoken to Melody since she’d maced me in the face, it felt safe to assume I wasn’t welcome at her place either. The rest of the guys were scattered to the four winds: Tombstone and Gorey off with their families and Jojo gallivanting around some tropical resort with her biggest fan, Khaki Thackery. It was just me and Goose and Kilroy left in the house: Kilroy because he was Jewish, and me and Goose because we didn’t have anywhere else to go.
I expected the house to be quiet with everyone gone but when I emerged from my bedroom sometime during the mid-afternoon, I found the living room crowded with hollow-eyed strangers bonding over cheap coffee and regret: Kilroy’s recovery group.
