Jake pulled on his borrowed tie and swilled another gulp of his watered down bourbon. He stared balefully around the Gold Room at the country club his father and brothers belonged to. All the Delancey men had belonged here in fact, going back three generations. All except him. God, he hated this place. Not only was it filled with ostentatious, rich, privileged old bastards but, even worse, the food sucked. It did have decent bourbon though. If only he could get someone to give it to him straight. Someone must have warned them about him. It's not that Jake wasn't allowed at the club. He just wasn't allowed without supervision. Not since last time. He'd only been twelve years old at the time, but that was old enough to sneak behind the bar and steal a bottle of booze.
