Chapter 83

DRAKE Imeet Elijah for drinks at his favorite spot, an old-fashioned pub in the East Village. At least he claims it’s his favorite spot, but as I look around at the rough-and-ready clientele and actual sawdust on the floor, I wonder if he’s screwing with me. He knows I like the top-shelf life, and this may well be his way of jerking me around. Elijah is the oldest of us James brothers, so he’s got the most experience yanking our chains. He turns up twenty minutes late and waves at me from the bar as he grabs drinks. When he joins me, he’s carrying two pints of Guinness and two surprisingly good-smelling glasses of whiskey. I pick up the chipped lowball and inhale. “Nice, right?” He looks delighted with himself. “I know it looks like shit in here, but the Irish know their booze. That’s top-quality Bushmills right there. Slainte!” He raises his glass in a toast and downs it in one. “You okay, brother?” I ask, feeling a whisper of concern. “Sure I am. Just been a heck of a day. Started wi