“What are your favorite kinds of movies?” Jack keeps lobbing these stupid questions at me. It’s like I’ve been roped into a game of verbal tennis. “Ones where the unlikeable coworker gets shipped off to a different country.” The rum has sucked the venom out of my tone. My answers are a half-hearted effort at this point. My eyes drift to half-mast. If I concentrate, I can almost hear the roar of the sea over the music. “I didn’t realize that was a genre,” Jack says wryly.
