Ben extracted the cork from the bottle of white zinfandel and filled the wine glass she held forth.

“Good,” he answered. “Pretty good. Al said ta’ tell you guys ‘hey’ and sorry she couldn’t make it. The little guy told me to make sure I said ‘hi’ to the dogs.”

“We really need to find some time to get together for a barbecue or something,” I stated as he planted himself back on the edge of the porch and went about the task of opening the Scotch.

“Yeah,” Ben returned. “Why don’t ya’ tell that to the bad guys. I could use a little time off.” He poured himself a drink and topped mine off before sticking his cigar between his lips and setting it alight with a wooden match. “Ahhhhh,” he exclaimed, blowing out a stream of pungent smoke. “I’ve been so damn busy lately, I really haven’t had a chance to enjoy a cigar… Ya’know, I think this is the first time I’ve had anything lit in my mouth in a month.”

“Like you really need it,” Felicity admonished. “Allison and I get you two to quit cigarettes, and the next thing we know you’re sucking on some other burning carcinogen.”

“Boys will be boys,” I told her.

“Yeah,” Ben chimed in. “What he said.”

The friendly chatter eased my mind for the time being, but I still felt a nag in the back of my skull. Sitting here, I knew that just as I had suspected, my friend was without a doubt its undeniable source.

*****

Later in the evening, we called out for pizza and moved our celebration indoors. After putting the dogs through their paces for a handful of the crusts, Felicity said her goodnights and went off to bed, for she had an early outing with her nature photography club the next morning.

Ben had grown quieter as the evening wore on, leaning more heavily on the Scotch than I can ever recall him doing before. After I finished clearing the dishes from the table, he refilled our glasses from the near-depleted bottle of Glenlivet, and then we ventured out to the back deck.