Access to the beach house on Martha’s Vineyard was the one and only perk of this little arrangement with my father. The bar was empty except for a few drunk college kids and a fisherman named Bud. I tossed back shot after shot of tequila, washing it down with a corona or t...
Damn fog horn. My head was killing me. I felt like Gwen was stomping all over my brain. I wouldn’t put it past her either. I got out of bed, hoping a hot shower would help dull the throbbing ache between my eyes. I turned on the water, quickly pulled off last night’s cloth...