Two hours and three Irish Car Bombs later, Hero was swimming in a happy haze of her father’s people’s finest contribution to the human race. Guinness, Irish cream, and Irish whiskey.“Have you ever noticed that the more I drink, the straighter I get?” Stef slurred into her ear as he handed her a drink. “See that gorgeous woman over there in the lime-green leggings? I’m taking her home… I’m going to lose my girlginity to her. To both of them, because right now there are two.” He held up three fingers, counting his thumb.Hero searched the bodies lit by strobes, color, and writhing to a mash of music she and her friends had just dubbed “electro-techno-gangsta-voodoo-blues.” She found Stef’s conquest with almost no trouble. “I—don’t think that’s a woman.”“Really?” Stef swiveled around on unsteady legs to squint closer. “What makes you say that?”Hero laughed. “Well, for one ‘she’ has two lumps that a woman should not, and one of them is an Adam’s apple.”Stef collapsed against her.
