Doris hands me a margarita before plopping down on the other side of her La-Z-Boy sofa. She places her margarita in the cup holder, runs a wrinkled hand through her white hair, and grabs the box of popcorn from the table, setting it in her lap. Her sausage dog, Shits, is in my lap and she reaches across handing him some popcorn which he eagerly scarfs down.  Giggles, her Chihuahua comes scurrying across the floor and wraps himself around her leg, furiously crotch thrusting his way home while she studiously ignores him. The first few times I came here it was a little weird, but hey, Doris doesn't give a fuck. Why not let the little bugger knock himself out?  

"Oh, oh, this is it," Doris says as the rolling credits start. She shovels a huge handful of popcorn in her mouth never taking her eyes off the TV. 

I hesitate. Surely this is not what I think it is. "Uh, Doris..." 

"Yeah?" She slurps on her margarita. 

"What is this?" I watch a man strut onto the screen butt-arse naked and fisting his cock.

Slowly, she turns toward me, confusion wrinkling her brow as she points at the TV. "You don't know who Colby Keller is?" 

"No, but he has an arse on him." 

Doris shakes her head and exhales a lusty grunt. "That arse was made for fucking, and his dick...just you wait." She holds her hands out. "Veiny." I swear she just moaned under her breath. She shakes her leg. "Get off Giggles. Go hump Shits." The dog stands dazed for a second before trotting to the corner and licking itself. 

"Well then..." I pick up my margarita and take a heavy sip. Damn, that's the good shit. A few minutes later and Colby has his dick down some guy’s throat, face fucking him like he owns him.

"Damn,” Doris groans. “I want a guy to fuck my mouth like that. He could call me a dirty whore and tell me how he can't wait to ruin my hole.” I turn and look at her. Shit, the woman is over sixty and apparently thirsty as fuck. "Oh, yeah, this gets the juices going for bingo," she says, shifting in her chair and chugging a huge gulp of her drink.  

"Eddie's gonna get it," I say.  

She waves her hand through the air. "That old goat? No! He'd have to whip out his catheter just to have a crack. Bobby...Bobby is gonna get it." She wiggles her eyebrows and cackles.

"You'll break Eddie's little heart. I thought you were dating?" 

 She glares at me as she sucks back the last of the margarita and belches. "No, it's called playing the field, honey. Eddie gives me extra bingo cards." 

I lift a brow. "Touché." She bumps her fist to mine and we resume watching.  

Colby smashes that dude’s back doors in. They're groaning and grunting and Jesus-fucking-Christ, the guy's not gonna be able to sit down for a week.  

"Yeah, fuck him in the hole, Colby," Doris chants. "That boy could tap me seven ways to Sunday any time," she says, shaking her head.   

It takes a lot to shock me, it does. "Holy shit, Doris. I thought you'd be packing up shop by now," I say, pointing at her crotch.  

"An orgasm's an orgasm no matter how wrinkled your cooter gets. Viagra does wonders for a penis these days. Like the Energizer bunny." She waggles her white eyebrows at me. 

"I can never look at Bobby the same way," I say.  

Groans come from the TV and Colby starts coming. I use the term loosely because that's enough come to put out a forest fire. On and on it goes and Colby's face and his sounds—dear fucking god, I need to go and sort myself out. Colby Keller just officially cemented himself as the hottest, most alpha specimen of a man I've ever seen. Any man who can own another guy like that...fuck. 

Doris sighs as she turns the TV off and slowly stands up, grabbing at her back. 

"I think you've just given me a gay porn fetish," I say.  

She laughs. "It will change your life, trust me." She winks as she makes her way to her kitchen.  

"You going to bingo tonight?" 

"Of course, I can’t let that cunt Opal win again." 

"And Poppy thinks you're such a nice old lady," I say, fighting a smile because Doris is me...in a few decade’s time. She's hilarious.  

"I have to be a nice old lady at work. It would be frowned upon if I went up into the clinic talking about Colby smashing arseholes and Opal being a raging cunt." She grabs her purse. "Next week, I'll show you some James Deen. You seen him?" 

"Please.” I roll my eyes. “Until just now, he was the king. He just lost his crown."  

She laughs and I stand up, putting my glass in the kitchen before I hug her. She kisses my cheek. "Bye lovey." 

"Have fun at bingo. Show Opal who the champ is.” I leave Doris’ apartment and climb in my car, heading straight for The Pit. 

**break***

A thick cloud of smoke surrounds me the second I walk into Larry's bar. I can hear Kyan's loud laugh over the lull of conversation and tinker of glasses. I walk straight to the bar, ignoring the grotty old men giving me the eye.

"How you doing, treacle?" Kyan asks, lifting a glass of beer.  

I smile as I take a seat at the bar. "Alright." 

"How's Poppy?" 

"Alright..." And a sullen silence falls over us because talking about Poppy reminds us all of what happened. It reminds us of Brandon. That he's gone. That all of us failed him because none of us saw it coming, and as friends, shouldn't we have seen that coming? 

Madame Wrinkles hops up onto the counter, slinking around the glasses on her way to see me. Her pink wrinkly skin glistens under the dim bar lights and I move away just before she brushes her hairless self against my forearm. 

"Poor Madame Wrinkles," Kyan says, patting over her back, "she may be ugly but she still needs love, Hope." He snickers and I roll my eyes.  

"Her skin's gross and loose, like an old man's ball bag." 

Kyan looks at me as he grabs the cat and places her in his lap. "If you weren't a ginger, I'd say you were my soulmate." 

"Fuck off." I shove him and he falls onto the stool, the legs scratching over the uneven floor.

A loud round of applause suddenly breaks out and I glance over to the side of the room to see Finn shouldering his way through the crowded pub, holding his ribs. His face is drenched in sweat, his dark hair matted to his forehead. His lip is busted. Blood trickles over his defined jawline.  

It's been months since I've seen him and he looks like shit. Poppy hasn't heard from him, but I guess he just didn't want to bother her. From what I can tell, he's pretty much dropped off the face of the earth. He's Finn. Strong, silent Finn. I assumed he was just doing what he always does—keeping to himself, until now that is. He looks like he's been to hell and back.  

Kyan stands up. "'Did you beat his arse?" he yells. 

Finn glances at Kyan, his jaw clenched and his eyes swirling with something turbulent and raw. And for a second, all I see is Brandon: the anger and the pain, the lack of control. "Yeah," he mumbles before hoisting his bag higher on his shoulder, gritting his teeth as he does.  

I glance down at his side, noticing the way he hunches over. "Finn..." I shove a drunk, fat man out of the way and send him stumbling to the side. Grabbing Finn's shirt, I yank it up. His entire side is purple and blue. "Jesus Christ, can you fucking breath?" 

He tenses his jaw and glares at me with his nostrils flaring as he yanks his shirt from my hand. "I'm fine."  

"I'll take that as an 'it's kind of hard'. You need to go to A&E." 

"I'm fine," he repeats, his voice just as flat as his cold expression.  

I laugh and grab his hand, which he promptly snatches away. I turn and glare at him. "You are not fine. Stop trying to be a fucking caveman." I grab his hand again and lead him through to the exit. The cool night air whips around us when we step out of the pub and onto the sidewalk, and he yanks his damn hand away again. 

"Hope, just leave it." This isn't him. Finn is brooding and quiet, surly even, but he's not cold. He's not angry, in fact, he was always the calm one. Hell, he was the one that kept a lid on Brandon half the time.

I press my shoulders back and huff before I grab him by his earlobe and squeeze. He flinches. "I'm taking you to A&E." 

"Fuck, Hope." He tries to fight me, but what with his injured ribs, he can't. I keep a hold of his ear as we walk toward my car. I click the lock, the alarm beeps, and I open the door, basically cramming him inside and slamming the door shut. 

I get in the driver's side and lock the doors—just in case, then start the car and pull out into the late evening traffic. I glance at Finn, watching him flinch and clench his jaw with every bump in the road. As per usual, he says nothing. 

"What's going on with you?" I ask, fiddling with my mirror.  

Again, nothing. Fuck me, he's exhausting. He's never been one to talk, but shit— 

"Jesus fuck..." He points at the road and I turn and look, yanking the wheel just before I slam into a parked car. 

"Calm your tits." I laugh.  

"You are—" 

"A good friend driving you to the hospital." I pat him on the thigh. Truth is, I feel like a shitty friend right now.

He slowly glances down at my hand on his leg, his eyebrows pulling together as though he's staring at a riddle he can't quite fathom. "This is a waste of time. Can't do anything for broken ribs," he mumbles, turning his gaze out the window. 

"Well, aren't you just the ray of fucking sunshine?"  

He sighs and swipes a hand down his face. "Hope, I'm not in the mood." 

I jerk the wheel, swerving the car to the side of the road. He falls against the door and hisses. "When are you going to be in the mood, Finn? No one's heard shit from you in months, not since..." I swallow, my heart pounding in my chest because the words came out of my mouth before I fully processed them. And now, we sit in silence. 

After a few minutes, he reaches for the door handle. "Let me out." The air in the car grows thick with tension, only now, the anger has been replaced with this sobering sense of grief so strong I want to throw my arms around him.  

"Finn..." I whisper. 

"Please," he says, his voice devoid of anything.  

I gnaw on my bottom lip. "I'll take you home." I start the car again before he can say anything and pull a U-turn across the road. When I stop outside his building we both sit in silence for a second before I press the button for the locks. He opens the door and gets out without a word. He walks, stooped over, toward the front of his building and disappears through the door. We used to be friends. How did I miss the fact that he's become so lost? Perhaps because I'm surrounded by lost people who are all just trying to survive the shit-show of losing someone they loved.