Larry took a moment to exhale, sudden and shuddering, and then reached to pull Nick into a full embrace, both arms wrapped tight around his skinny body, poetry book wedged in between them. Eyes squeezed shut, Larry held on as if for dear life.
It had been his fault, hadn't it? He'd known, him and Frannie, they'd sat there and read the vitriol spewed across the pages of that ledger, and they ought to have expected it, somehow, they ought to have known. Nick had been meant to go to Las Vegas, not Larry, and Jesus, even now knowing what end would have awaited him there was little relief when held against the fact that Larry could have prevented that fucking bomb if he'd just be a little bit less wrapped up in his own problems.
A couple of hot tears slid over Larry's cheeks and splashed down onto the back of Nick's shirt, but he forced himself back after that, gulped down a fortifying breath and hastily wiped at his eyes before nodding toward the bar.
"Come on," he said, leading the way, and immediately ordered two glasses of scotch. Beer was not going to cut it anymore.
Leaning up over the bar, he found lime wedges and maraschino cherries stowed beneath but nothing like writing paper. He grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins instead, and pushed them Nick's way as he settled back onto his stool.
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It had been his fault, hadn't it? He'd known, him and Frannie, they'd sat there and read the vitriol spewed across the pages of that ledger, and they ought to have expected it, somehow, they ought to have known. Nick had been meant to go to Las Vegas, not Larry, and Jesus, even now knowing what end would have awaited him there was little relief when held against the fact that Larry could have prevented that fucking bomb if he'd just be a little bit less wrapped up in his own problems.
A couple of hot tears slid over Larry's cheeks and splashed down onto the back of Nick's shirt, but he forced himself back after that, gulped down a fortifying breath and hastily wiped at his eyes before nodding toward the bar.
"Come on," he said, leading the way, and immediately ordered two glasses of scotch. Beer was not going to cut it anymore.
Leaning up over the bar, he found lime wedges and maraschino cherries stowed beneath but nothing like writing paper. He grabbed a stack of cocktail napkins instead, and pushed them Nick's way as he settled back onto his stool.