TWENTY-SIXOn Friday night Doobie held a glass of wine as he leaned against the bar. Jim and Paco greeted him as they entered the gallery. Doobie welcomed the two men, the only ones he’d met in Agua Verde that he was beginning to consider friends. He smiled, thinking how unlikely that he, an aging hippie who hated cops would ever befriend one. Jim Bullock’s little sidekick Paco was easy. He’d had plenty of gay friends back in San Francisco. No problem there, but a cop? Well, he’d finally had to admit that this cop was different. He refilled his glass and continued with the distasteful task of working the room and schmoozing with the other customers. He hated openings as much as he hated the hot Agua Verde summers. Both sucked and made him yearn for the thick, chill fogs of the life he’d lef
