20
“Okay, okay,” Brother Titus says to Jamie, “now you have to try the Archangel.”
“Which one is that?” Jamie asks, looking down at the flight in front of him. There’s another empty flight at the edge of the table, and several empty glasses crowded around that. The eight of us at this table have been “hosting” Jamie for the last ninety minutes and have the empty glasses to show for it. A few of the glasses are mine on account of the impromptu drinking game I invented, which is called Drink whenever watching your ex-boyfriend with his fiancé makes you feel sad.
“The Archangel is our tripel,” Brother Amos answers.
“We call it that because it could knock even the devil on his ass,” Brother Thomas chimes in.
Jamie consults the paper slip he’s secured under the wooden board holding his
