“You ain’t shittin’ it’s a small world. No, I live in North Carolina.”

Feeling that he should sober up and get some of the fog out of his head, he remembers the coffeepot he had seen in the kitchen. “You want some java?”

“Probably not tonight. Little late for me.”

Hunter can’t take any more of this situation. It was like a real-life episode of The Outer Limits. He needs to extricate himself from it, regroup. Excusing himself, he goes into the kitchen, grabs the red Folger’s can. Unscrews the lid. He finds the filters, places one in the coffeepot, and scoops out the coarse grounds. Loads up the filter. Adds water. Closes up the pot and presses Start. Listening to everyone talk in the opposite room, for Hunter it is like looking into an alternative universe, a reengineered version of himself. His mind goes frantic with repetition. How could he never have known that Blake existed? Keeping in touch with Sid over the years. How could Sid never have mentioned Blake? The other question is about his father. He had to know, which brings more repetition. More questions of why he never mentioned it. He wonders whether his father had ever met Blake. Had he known about Blake and never told Hunter? With his death, Hunter would never know. But the real question is, When did it happen?

Leaning his forearms on the counter, Hunter watches the coffeepot sputter and steam. He takes a cup from the cabinet and fills it up. Hollers, “Anybody want a cup of joe?”

Nugget and Itch yell, “Sure!”

“Then get your dead asses in here. This ain’t no Hunter’s Diner, and I ain’t spoon-feeding you mugs.”

Coming back into the living room, Itch and Nugget are shaking hands with Blake. Acquainting themselves. Passing small talk. Then Blake goes down a hallway to Sid’s bedroom, comes back with a change of clothing, and starts to pack Sid up. Itch and Nugget go to the kitchen to grab a cup of mud.

Blake tells Sid to get up, that they are going back to Blake’s house. He tells Hunter and his buddies to make themselves at home, to stay the night. There is no sense in driving this late with booze flowing through their bloodstreams.

Hunter said, “Really, you and your dad should stay here. I think we’re good after a cup of coffee.”

“Look, like I said, no sense in driving if you been drinking. Just trouble waiting to happen. Cop in this area pulls you over, out-of-state plates, he’s gonna take one look at the tats and the bikes and haul your asses in. Sleep it off, and get on the road when you get up. Seriously. Way Dad talks about you, you’re practically family.”

Hunter thinks about it and doesn’t want to argue. He shakes Blake’s hand and thanks him. Tells Sid they will talk soon.