Tucker slid down the wall across from Roy. Both laughed—until Tucker stopped to gawk at Roy’s fat, circumcised p***s dancing and jumping about in the hair on his vibrating gut. Then Roy stopped laughing, too. He sang along to Herb Alpert’s slightly off-speed melody. “I need your love. I want your love. Say you’re in love, in love with this guy. If not…I’ll just die.” Roy was off-key as well, which only made the effort more endearing. There was a look on his face, a tear in his eye—maybe from laughing so hard, but probably not. It was as if the song lyric was actually true. Roy shrugged and then spoke. “Ya know?”
Tucker shook his head. “Get real, man. You don’t…”
“Maybe.” Roy shrugged.
“Well, even if,” Tucker whispered. “Check it out. People don’t, like, die from broken hearts.”
“Someti
