Chapter 6
“You think that shit’s any better, man?” Antonio pointed to the vodka.
“I don’t know. Maybe, if I’m lucky, it will take longer to kill me.”
“Nice.”
Arliss looked around the cramped space he had called his second home for the last six months. Jesse was getting ready to go out on stage, doing his goth schtick tonight, his face made up in clown white, black lips, and his eyes ringed like a raccoon. Right now he had on just a black leather jockstrap, but he would add a cape lined in red satin before he made his entrance. He was doing push-ups under the assumption this last-minute pump would make his pitiful muscles appear larger. Good luck with that.