Vin took a break from stories, from the crowds of Lucy’s friends, from the smell of liquor that he was scrupulously not touching, to smoke a cigarette out on the back porch. Lucy, he’d been told, was a smoker, and she had a very nice rocking chair with an ashtray right by his elbow. Convenient.
“Got a light, man?” Beau dropped into the chair next to him.
Vin handed him the silver lighter, wordless, looking up into the sky. Beau blew a perfect smoke-ring.
“Show off,” Vin said.
“You know, you could just learn,” Beau scoffed.
“Where would the fun in that be?” Vin asked. “Besides, I like watching you do it, the way your mouth does that little—”
Beau punched him lightly in the shoulder. “Don’t talk like that at my aunt’s wake, you jerk.”
Vin raised an eyebrow. “Have you heard some of the
