I top off my drink and look up to see Kir watching me. “So,” he says.
“You owe me that much.”
“I’d say I owe you ‘not s**t,’ actually.”
“I assure you, my friend, that you will lose this game if you want to start tallying favors.”
Kir insists, though. He crosses his arms in front of him and leans forward. “But there was the time when—”
“I swear to God, I will beat you like a rented mule.”
“Do you even know what that means?”
“I’d be more than happy to find out.”
“You’re an asshole, you know that?”
He scowls. “I have to do this, you know.”
“You do not.” I look elsewhere, staring up at the dim red-hued lamp overhead until I start to see hazy spots dancing in my vision. “We can talk about anything else. How’s Jillian? How’s business? How’s your dad? How ‘bout them Yankees?”
He rolls
