Cal gave me a secret smile and pushed his loose waves out of his face. My gorgeous man. While I was aware Maks wasn’t a fairy, I wondered if he appreciated Cal’s attractiveness. I could determine if a woman was a dish, why wouldn’t Maks be able to acknowledge if a man was a pip?

“So, what are you into?” Maks asked Cal as we took our seats.

“Just trying to make some tin, same as everyone else,” Cal replied vaguely, lighting a cigarette. He held out the carton to Maks and me, and we both nodded our thanks.

“Doing anything interesting?” Maks pressed. “I’m always looking for a new racket.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” I teased, taking a drag of my fag. “And what are you on now?”

“Nothing lucrative,” Maks sighed. “I have this cousin who’s running a numbers game I would love to get in on, though.”

I chuckled. “I’m sure he would be happy to sell you a few slips.”

Maks glared at my deflection as Cal laughed.

“I’ll think about adding you on, but you can’t tell your dad or mine,” I warned. “Those old crumbs are constantly trying to get in on my shit as soon as it’s successful.”

“Like me,” he said, with a self-deprecating groan. “I’m the worst.”

“You’re pretty awful,” I agreed, laughing when he flicked my ear. I looked at Cal to see if he was okay and was happy he seemed to be having a pleasant enough time. “You can tell Maks about your business if you want. He’s a solid guy.” Cal raised his eyebrows and I saw it as an obvious gesture to illuminate my hypocrisy. “Don’t be obtuse,” I whispered. There was a big difference between talking moonshine and admitting I was a majorie.

He clicked his tongue in response, but leaned forward to tell Maks, “I make moonshine.”

“Are you talking rot-gut? Good old bathtub gin?” Maks asked wide eyed. “Are people still drinking it now that alcohol is on the up and up?”

“Well, not really rot-gut because it tastes good, and I sure as shit don’t make it in the tub.”

“It tastes good?” Maks questioned skeptically.

I nodded. “Gets you tanked too.”

My assessment had Cal appearing proud and Maks more interested.

“I would love to try it some time,” my cousin told Cal, who was barely able to contain a beaming smile.

“Yeah?”

“Absolutely,” Maks confirmed. “I hear a lot of guys complaining about the 3.2 gin mills are serving. They want to spend their clams on something with a higher content but don’t want to spring for shots. Maybe I could spread the word.”

“I would give you a cut,” Cal promised, eagerly. A business man he was not.

“Now we’re talking. Slip me five,” my cousin said, reaching over me to shake Cal’s hand. “We’ll get into something keen.”