Churches were churches, Scooter had pretty much noticed. Same basic layout, no matter how ritzy the decor or how long-winded the pastor was. He pulled Nick into the vestibule, where there was relative privacy.
“Hmm. Nicholas Grant,” Scooter said, calm, casual. It was buzzing behind his teeth, his need to hurt this man, although Andy would hardly appreciate it if he did so. He reached into his jacket and pulled out the hip flask that he’d tucked in his suit jacket. It had been an easy matter to update the dinner outfit to a more funereal attire, thank Christ. He unscrewed the cap, took a quick nip. He had Kat to thank for getting him into really good vodka, even if his wallet took the hit every time he invested in a bottle. “Drink?” He offered the flask to Nick.
Nick raised an eyebrow at
