Wayne was younger, bigger, and bushier, one of Brian’s employees. He settled down in one chair while Brian took the other, vacated for him by the old woman. She stood. The story was secondhand to Wayne, too, but he thought it such a good one he told it as if it was his: “You know how it is—twenty-four-, twenty-five-year-old little smartass girl.” He did his own imitation, same fluttering fingers. “ ‘Y’all keep your hands of my body, my body, my body!’ ” Wayne’s clever friend had said, “ ‘It’s just you’re out runnin’ around and you spread your legs for every gentleman round, and chance of you
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