“Besides, Z,” I told him over my shoulder as I always did when I could be alone like this, “I could never let him drink from me.” Frowning, I turned to Z, who was eating his last crawfish tail. “Could I?” As usual, Z had no answer. He was a terrific listener, though. “No, definitely not,” I emphasized as I poured in a cup of Colby Jack cheese and stirred.
