After a couple of beers, a few rounds of quiz bowl replays, and a lot of horsing around, Manny and I left. His friends had melded almost seamlessly with mine.
Teddy, who’d figured out the clumsy rewiring on the side of our team box, was the hero of the night. When the replay of the afternoon’s rounds started on the bar’s multiple big screens, Teddy had them stop frame and pointed out what he’d seen and alerted Ian and Manny about. We’d all laughed at the frustration the team who’d been switched into our rigged box showed during the match.
Back at my mother’s pool house, Manny and I tore into one another like rabbits in heat. Having a comfortable mattress, seemingly unlimited condoms and lube, and enough pent-up s****l energy to power the West coast, we couldn’t get enough of each other.
