“Which is, really, just the way I like it. I had just finished yarping dryly over the commode when the doorbell’s sweet soft chime penetrated my hangover with all the finesse of a lead sledgehammer. Head pounding, heart throbbing, and kidneys aflame, I splashed cold water on my face and lifted my head to observe two bloodshot blue eyes staring out of the mirror. Well, that was no shock. They were mine. The doorbell hammered my temples again. I scratched at my armpit, lifted up the hem of my Crib...bage Pie T-shirt. It didn’t smell like vomit. I sighed happily and groaned as the pounding drilled through my head. I made it out into the hall, kicking an empty Shivlitz bottle aside. It tinkled and broke. I stamped up to the door as the doorbell sounded again, and then I realized the pounding was not strictly in my poor aching head. It was coming from the door as well. I sighed, and turned the knob, lifting my gun. In my line of work, you never, ever answer the door unarmed. I jerked the door open and would have shot Bruce, except for the dead body.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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