An obviously hung-over Bud came home a little after ten A.M. David didn’t know whether he wanted to shout, cry, hug or slap Bud for worrying him so much.
“I—” Bud stood in the kitchen, a totally lost and beaten expression on his face.
All David’s anger melted away. Shouting at Bud would be like scolding a puppy who already knew he’d messed on the carpet.
“I had a call from Lisa,” David finally said.
“She told you?”
“About her ultimatum, yes.” David wanted to ask what Bud was going to do, but feared the answer too much to enquire.
“She’s a f*****g manipulative bitch.” Bud became animated, though he seemed to pay for his outburst because he immediately brought up his hands to cradle his head.
“Bud, you know you shouldn’t drink because of the damage done to your liver.”
“Don’t start.
