Chubby stood up holding three hard-boiled eggs. "Nah, just go to Banion's or somethin'...what're you doin'?"

Stony shrugged. "Hangin' around."

Chubby regarded him for a minute. "You wanna get shit-faced witcher uncle?"

"Sure." Stony smiled.

***

"Whassamatta?" Chubby asked. Stony was playing with the swizzle stick in his Scotch, staring at the table and not drinking.

Stony shrugged. He wouldn't look at his uncle. "That's good fuckin' Scotch, Stones, you don't want it..." Chubby reached for the glass. Stony grabbed it and downed the shot in one gulp.

"Woo!" Stony smiled in spite of himself, but he still wouldn't look up. Somebody played the juke box:

two faced woman an' a jealous may-on,
thas how awl the trouble in th' worl' be-gay-on.

Stony snickered. He had taken the shot a little too fast.

"You like that nigger shit?"

"What?" Stony finally looked up. Chubby nodded toward the juke box without taking his eyes from Stony's face.

"What's that? James Brown, right?"

Stony shrugged again, still smiling, looking down now.

"Yeah, I ain't that old." Chubby grinned.

"I didn't say nothin'," Stony mumbled.

"I seen that guy once on Ed Sullivan. If I could make all that bread screamin' like a momo faggot pimp I'd quit work tomorrow."

Stony imagined Chubby on TV dancing like James Brown. He chuckled.

"That's funny, hah?" Chubby downed his Scotch, then nodded to Banion for two more. Banion zoomed down in his wheelchair.

"Mikey." Chubby grabbed Banion's hand. "You know who this is?" He nodded at Stony, who studied his reflection in a small puddle of liquor on the bar. "Guess who's kid this is."

"Tommy's?"

Chubby cackled. Banion squinted at Stony, who wouldn't look at him. "You goin' in?" he asked Stony.

"Hah?"

"You goin' in? The 'lectricians."

"I dunno." Stony turned to him. He focused on the network of red veins in Banion's nose.

"You got a good uncle," Banion said, still squinting, his mouth slightly open, "and a good father." He pushed a button and the wheelchair glided backward, away from Stony.

"I'll tell you about nigger music." Chubby sipped his drink. "It died wit' Nat King Cole." He paused, waiting for that fact to sink in. Stony gulped half his Scotch during that comment. "I used to say Johnny Mathis, then I read he was queer. Stony, what the fuck is goin' on wit' you?"

Stony was startled. "Nothin'," he answered in a cracked voice.

"Stony, don't bullshit a bullshitter, it's Cheri, right?" Chubby grabbed Stony's wrist. "She got you doin' a hurtin' dance. I know the fuckin' signs, baby. The first sign is you don't talk to your fuckin' favorite uncle when he takes you out for a good time."

Stony shrugged and halfheartedly tried to remove his hand from his uncle's beefy grip.

"It's Cheri, hah?" Chubby squeezed.

Stony rubbed his other hand across his eyes. "Chub, you don't know."

"Stony, I remember when you was born. I remember the shit smell of your diapers if you wanna be honest. Baby, I remember stuff about you that you ain't gonna wanna know for a million years."