"Don't be mad," says Greg. But I'm mad.
"Tell you what, Greg, You like him. You don't want to kill him. You take him!"
"I'm getting booted remember???? And Andy will kill me if I bring in a roomie. Eric nearly lost his head about me moving into the guest house."
"Dude, not my problem. You found him, you take him back."
"I'm not some kind of fucking animal," Mike growled from the couch.
"Well, then stop living like one!" I growled back. That shut him up. But Greg gave me a look. Lust is so blind.
I had a feeling that Gregās little love object was not the god of perfection. After all, Greg never heard him stumble into the apartment in a drunken stupor in the early morning. And I hadn't yet told him about the crank phone calls.
"So, don't bullshit me," I said to him. I waited until Greg left to get some food for us. I don't know why, it's not like Greg hasn't been disappointed before.
"It was nothing. I got into a fight at a bar."
"What bar?" I knew he was hiding, but I wasn't sure what.
"I don't know -- somewhere in Venice," he evaded.
"How many guys. One? Two?" I pressed.
"What are you the police??"
"Yeah. I'm the dyke police. And I don't like trouble in my neighborhood especially when it concerns my apartment and my friends."
"All right, all right. They were just a couple of bookies, okay? I made some bad bets and they came to collect. I paid them, they went away."
I couldnāt believe this guy! "You paid them, and they thanked you for your business by beating the crap out of you? You're such a liar, Mike..."
I pulled out a couple of pills I had found in the bathroom one day, they must have fallen out of his pocket, and threw them in his face.
