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loved the notoriety and lived to entertain.
    He shrugged at me dismissively. “Go ahead, Sheldon. If they wanna hear the story, you tell it.” His blush seeped back into his cheeks, and for a second he looked kind of self-conscious. “It wasn’t one of my prouder moments, but it will make you guys laugh your asses off. Besides”—his air of cockiness returned—“it was kind of hot!”
    “Hot?” I pitched forward in my chair. “It was the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard in my life. If it had happened to me, I would have had to shoot everyone in the room just to be sure I left no living witnesses.”
    The others at the table looked between Alex and me, growing more curious, more expectant, and more impatient. Tyler finally broke the tension. “I don’t give a shit which one of you tells the story, but one of you had better start talking or you’re both going to get bombarded with a shower of ice.”
    Alex picked at some of the salt on the rim of his glass with a feigned attitude of indifference. “You tell it, Zack; you tell it better anyway.” He sank a little lower in his chair, knowing full well that at the conclusion of the story, he would be without even an ounce of virtue. He shook almost imperceptibly. He’d be embarrassed, yes, but, in his eyes, anyway, he’d be infamous. Worth the price.
    “Well.” I cleared my throat to ensure I had everyone’s attention. “As you all know, our friend here is a world traveler, which for him means there’s not a square inch on this entire globe where he hasn’t shot a load.” Alex sat up a little but slouched quickly when I added, “Though it’s mostly the result of him abusing himself with his own hand.”
    “Sheldon,” he protested, “just get on with the story. If we hope to eat sometime within the next five years, the waitress is gonna have to take our orders soon. Skip the commentary. The story is bad enough.”
    “Anyway,” I continued as if I hadn’t been interrupted, “shortly after Alex arrived in Sydney, he scored an invitation to a private party.” I looked at him with the slightest hint of admiration. “It’s beyond me how you succeeded in doing that.”
    Alex’s gaze never strayed from examining the salt on the rim of his glass. “Like I told you, Zack, men find me irresistible; now get to the fucking point already.”
    “Right. Well, it was about six o’clock in the evening, the party wasn’t going to start until around eleven, and Alex was starving. In addition, because jet lag had really kicked in, he knew he was gonna have to take a nap if he wanted any chance of being on his best game for the party. Dilemma. How, in an unfamiliar city, do you find a filling meal and still salvage enough time for meaningful shut-eye? Well, given Alex’s infamous travel luck, the solution presented itself in that exact moment in the form of a catering truck that pulled into the beach parking lot. Perfect, he thought. I can grab something, eat it on the walk back to the hotel, and still have plenty of time to sleep and take a shower.”
    Silence fell over the table as I poured more inflection into my voice to guarantee an entertaining story.
    “It took mere seconds for Alex to decide on a burrito grande. He had the foil covering the tortilla peeled back and was biting into it enthusiastically the instant it hit his hands. The whole thing was gone before Alex was within a block of his hotel, and as he walked through the lobby, he could already envision falling unconscious into the comfort of the waiting king-sized bed.”
    I slowly waved my hand through the air to indicate the passage of time. “Alex awoke at nine thirty. His stomach had a few rumblings but nothing of any consequence, and certainly nothing that would warrant backing out of the party invite. He was showered and out the door by ten forty-five, giving fleeting consideration to maybe grabbing a package of Tums before he thrust the address of the party into the taxi