“Girls, I don’t know about you, but Tante can’t abide seeing these desperate faggots lined up before her without something to fill them. Fill me, I mean.” Lou picked up the large glass with the faded map of Cape Cod printed on it and poured himself some gin.
“Ice?” David offered, standing by the refrigerator.
“Nice,” Lou replied.
By five-thirty, Lou was on his second tumbler full of liquor, Bill on his first, and David was combing his vanishing hair when the first guests arrived.
“Oh no,” groaned Lou to Bill, “Bowen and the Little Woman. I can tell by their footsteps. One Godzilla, the other Bambi.”
“Quick, Lou, his real name,” pleaded Bill in a low voice.
“Don’t worry about it,” Lou said, getting ready to rise. “I doubt they’ll be here long enough for you to have to remember it. Why
