age twenty-one.
Life had started to get better. Danny had met Charlie about a year ago, and they were getting their foot in the door for one of the mobs in town. The apartment they shared was still shit, but it was a step up from his previous dwelling. No roaches was a fucking plus.

And today, of all days, he could finally legally purchase alcohol. No more stealing it or walking five blocks to the dumb old woman who didn't realize he was still underage. So, today, Danny had spent all of the money he'd earned from their last job on booze. Beer, whiskey, tequila, everything he could think of. He and Charlie were going to get so drunk they couldn't stand it, just because they could.

They did shots, they fucked, and then they did more shots. He had never drank that much before and hasn't since. They broke furniture, fucked some more, and shouted at the top of their lungs because they could.

As the night went on, Danny became more and more adventurous. He would never be able to remember whose idea it was or how it had happened, but he eventually opened the window facing the street, one floor from the ground, and jumped out of it. Whether it was dumb luck or the amount of alcohol in his system relaxing him, he was unscathed. He stood on the sidewalk, in nothing but his plaid boxer shorts, arms in the air as he screamed as loud as he could.


"GET THE FUCK BACK UP HERE," Charlie called from above, and he looked up to see her topless upper body greeting him from the window. He stared for a moment, a moment too long, as she started to pour her bottle of beer down on him.

He was apparently too drunk to be pissed, as he didn't hesitate to hurry back up to their apartment for round ten.