It takes me longer than I’d like to admit to realize Brad is also wearing a fanny pack. A neon green one. And on the front… “Bub,” I say slowly. “Does that have my name on it?” Brad grins, stopping near the front of his vehicle. Joey shines in gaudy jewels on the front of his fanny pack. “Yeah, man! We match. Matching packs.” “Shouldn’t we be wearing our own names?” I ask, more than a little bewildered. He scoffs. “No way. Like this, everyone will know we’re besties. Bros gotta look out for each other’s fannies, dude.” I…have no words.
