“Psst!” Granny Murray waved us over. “Hey, handsome!” She lifted up her skirt. Hudson sucked in a breath. “Gran, please. This is a nice party,” I begged. My grandmother pulled out a bottle of whisky from a thigh holster and a glass out of her bra. “Someone has to take care of this poor man, Gracie,” she said, handing Hudson a glass and filling it up. “Don’t!” I tried to snatch it from her. “We need to wash that.” “What? It’s not like I was hiding it up my snatch.” Hudson knocked the drink back.
