On the Thursday before New Year’s Eve, Brandon was sitting in the lounge of Stig’s place, listening to Dead or Alive on the stereo and reading a copy of The Face magazine. Stig was at work, so Brandon had the place to himself. A knock at the door startled him. Thinking it might have been a neighbour coming over to tell him to turn the music down, he dropped the magazine onto the couch and turned the stereo down on the way to answering it.
“Frank!”
“Miss me?’ he asked with a tentative smile.
“What are you doing here? I mean, how did you find me?”
“Katy had your address,” Frank replied. “Had to virtually beg to get it off her.”
“Come in,” said Brandon, stepping aside. “Do you want a coffee? Or something stronger? What’s the time? Is it too early for alcohol?”
“A coffee will be fine.”
