“I’m mainly upset no one believed I could hear about Greg Calloway’s death while I was alone.” As if I can’t read between the lines, Lo informs me, “They thought I’d go grab a bottle of Macallan that doesn’t even exist in this dry house.” Looks like I’m stuck here. “I can vouch that it didn’t happen,” I say lightly. “Been here the whole time.” Strangely. Lo waves to me like I’m greater evidence of his sobriety. He speaks to his son. “And just so you know—and what I’ll be telling your uncles—this isn’t close to anything that could knock me over. The fact that you all thought Greg ‘I’m a shit
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PREACH LO
