“Is it for some occasion or something?” Henry asks when he’s finished.
“It’s his birthday soon,” Beto says. This also isn’t a lie, though that isn’t until next month.
“So, birthday dinner?”
Why can’t he just say it? Why is he making everything so much harder than it needs to be? Beto drains his beer, gesturing to the bar. “You feel like one more? And maybe something stronger?”
If his suggestion surprises Henry, he doesn’t show it, only nodding. “Sure.”
Beto can’t get out of the booth quick enough. He orders two more beers, and two scotches, tempted to get a third to drink alone at the bar. Though he won’t, returning to their booth with their tray of drinks and holding his scotch up for Henry to clink his glass against.
Beto nods at Henry’s drink. “I know you said you had a quiet day
