.. with good reason.It was a small wedding, as weddings go, but every guest was special, either to the groom, or to the bride. Her best friend, belly ...ulging with a child that was not from Bobby’s loins, preceded her down the aisle, to stand across from Will Bradford, whose silver prosthetic hand gleamed in the lights, showing a burnished set of odd hues that were the result of that claw being used to pull photographs from chemicals that a normal man might have used gloves to handle.Only that. And besides, I'd look like a dunderheid trying totype on the typewriter with these big meaty hands."Cheers, mate! To new friends!" New friends!" we clicked glasses. "Now," I said taking advantage of thefact that I felt dominant, "let's get bloody bladdered!" I bellowed, asan order.We both downed another nip.Our night went on, we talked about what we liked about Los Angeles. Itwas fun to pretend I hadn't grown up here."So what is it you do, mate?" I asked."Whiskey seller," he said. That daft. More

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