Several drinks later, Angelo had battered down Russell’s defenses and was now giving him worldly advice. Exactly what he didn’t need.
“You can no go sailing away from me, my friend. You are no ready. You boat, she is no ready either.” The drunker Angelo got, the thicker his accent grew. Half his mother’s Italian, half Brooklyn. It would be about three more drinks until he wouldn’t understand a word Angelo said. And that would be just fine with him.
In fact, he couldn’t wait.
“Look, vecchio mio. Sailing off into the unknown, it is a plan. Maybe good. Maybe bad. But it is only sailing off into the unknown. You gonna take you problems with you. Youself, he is gon’ be dere.”
Russell’s one eye in the mirror was blearier, but he could still pick it out among the bottles. He definitely wasn’t
