Chapter 11

“Jesus, what did they fuck me with last night?”

Taking a few tentative steps, Barry searched for his clothes. Then he smelled it. Burning. Suddenly he realized the noise was a smoke alarm.

Donning the first clothes he found—a pair of blue boxers, his own jeans and a red flannel shirt, Barry slipped sockless feet into a pair of trainers that were several sizes too big, and waddled out of the bedroom.

The burning smell was greater in the hallway. He could hear raised angry voices so headed toward them. Turning into a doorway, Barry took in a scene of total chaos. Four men were running around a kitchen, carrying knives, spatulas, and spoons, bumping into each other and not seeming to achieve anything. A fifth man, Jimmy if the back of his blue T-shirt was any indication, was poking a butter knife into a toaster that was belching out large quantities of black smoke.