Chapter 18

Like the archetypical Santa from the poem, Schwartz shook like jelly when he laughed. If he never talked with his mouth full, he’d never get a chance to finish a sentence, and Danny was accustomed to the flecks of flying Fritos that preceded, “Hell if I know, but she sure is pissed at you.”

“But how come?” Danny pressed. “Did she say anything to you?”

Schwartz shrugged. “Didn’t you go out with her kid over the weekend?”

“Yeah, on Thursday. But that went great. At least, I thought it did.”

“Why ‘you thought?’”

“Well, I had a great time. He’s gorgeous, for one thing, and pretty funny. We had lots to talk about, he was real flirty, and he came up to my place…”

“Where you did more than flirt, I take it?”

Danny made the best lascivious grin that a mouthful of chili and Fritos would permit. “Oh, he did way more than flirt. Twice, actually. And he was good at it.”

“Maybe that’s it,” Schwartz suggested. “You deflowered her boy.”