Denny needed a drink. That’s what he decided. But he thought better of it. Too much was happening to be getting drunk. Yes, it was his vacation—classic drinking time—but even so. He felt like he’d been pretty much cleared by this Detective Washington, but the fact of the matter was that the scumbag who killed Rashida was still out there. And Denny was determined to help find the guy. Then again, he remembered Jimmy Clarke. He didn’t want to end up a fall guy like Jimmy had. Thirty-six months in Cook County Jail. And just for driving a car with the wrong people in it. Unreal what could happen when cops got involved. Chicago cops were like a club. They did what they wanted and were accountable to no one. And in a court of law who was the judge and jury
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It wouldn’t be the first time Denny had gotten in trouble because of Brig. Brig brought the magic potion, the elixir of trouble, with him everywhere he went. His mere presence seemed to do it. He lived by a different standard. To Brig, drinking and the party life was everything. Denny liked partying too—a lot—but nobody embraced the wild life like Brig.
Two years ago, Denny got together with Brig on the north side of the city to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. It was always dangerous to be out drinking with Brig, but drinking with him on St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago was good for at least a couple of stitches in your forehead or a DUI. Anyway, three years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, not long after Rashida left him, they ended up getting so drunk Denny woke up the next morning in the bushes outside somebody’s house in Lawndale with the falling snow blanketing him.
You would think he’d have learned his lesson from that, but drinking in Chicago was about all there was to do. A bar on every corner. Which was no excuse, after all, he knew, but there it was anyway.
And yeah, he was still craving a few cold ones because he didn’t know how to deal with all of this. Especially Orson’s text. Watch out for
It wouldn’t be the first time Denny had gotten in trouble because of Brig. Brig brought the magic potion, the elixir of trouble, with him everywhere he went. His mere presence seemed to do it. He lived by a different standard. To Brig, drinking and the party life was everything. Denny liked partying too—a lot—but nobody embraced the wild life like Brig.
Two years ago, Denny got together with Brig on the north side of the city to celebrate St. Patrick’s Day. It was always dangerous to be out drinking with Brig, but drinking with him on St. Patrick’s Day in Chicago was good for at least a couple of stitches in your forehead or a DUI. Anyway, three years ago on St. Patrick’s Day, not long after Rashida left him, they ended up getting so drunk Denny woke up the next morning in the bushes outside somebody’s house in Lawndale with the falling snow blanketing him.
You would think he’d have learned his lesson from that, but drinking in Chicago was about all there was to do. A bar on every corner. Which was no excuse, after all, he knew, but there it was anyway.
And yeah, he was still craving a few cold ones because he didn’t know how to deal with all of this. Especially Orson’s text. Watch out for