Chapter 60: Bourbon on the Rocks

Brad knocked on the door of the beach house.

The white, geometric monstrosity sat like a giant white toad on a strip of private beach in Miami, Florida.

Brad sighed and leaned on the doorbell. Footsteps came closer and the heavy wooden door opened.

Trent came into view with his megawatt smile and sparkling blue eyes, a glass of scotch in his hand.

“Dude! Bradford, my man! Good to see you,” said Trent, “Come in, come in.”

Brad followed Trent into the beach house. The inside of the house smelled like lemon cleaner and furniture polish.

“Can I get you anything? Scotch? Bourbon?” asked Trent over his shoulder as he went over to a carved-wood bar.

“Bourbon. Man, I need it bad,” muttered Brad, setting his backpack on a kitchen chair.

“Uh-oh, do I detect the sullen notes of sorrow?” chuckled Trent as he put a round ball of ice in a glass and topped it off with a generous helping of deep amber bourbon.

“Make it a double.”

“That bad, huh?”