I mean, seriously, he was my rebound guy. Not to mention, he was a thug. Eventually, things cooled down for El Diablo. Why, I never found out. Could ...be someone just got bored of trying to put bullets in his ass. Could be that his friends got tired of someone trying to put bullets in his ass. I never asked and he and Red never volunteered the information. Everyone got kind of relaxed and Red just sort of moved in in a kind of permanent way. It didn’t last, though. Nothing good ever does in this. " Good."She drew some plastic boxes covered in frost and a bag of rice from the bag, and started clattering pans and beeping the microwave."Sally." I asked hesitantly, "There is a spare room upstairs. I was thinking..."She paused."Would I have to sleep in the spare room?" Of course not."We looked at each other. We said nothing, but we agreed."Can I use the phone?"She picked it up and dialed.."Hello Pat, It's me, Sally."..."Is she there?"..."OK, it will have to wait."She put the phone down and. Of course, the sad thing was he hadn't even gone out drinking. Not that he could recall, at any rate. In fact, now that he thought about it, the only thing he remembered drinking last night was a glass of wine from that weird, stressed-out bottle his mom had produced from somewhere.As he lay in bed, Eric recalled the funny way in which the wine had spilt, from the bottle to the glass. It had been slower, apparently thicker than any red he'd ever seen, and looked like liquid silk, dark crimson. He had a slight smile onhis face as he appeared to be posing proudly, with his left hand at hisside in a relaxing manner, while the other had grasped his overcoat,tugging it in the middle.Oliver stood up from the couch, walking over to view the paintings moreclosely. As he continued to stare at them, he heard a pleasant soundingangelic voice behind him, "I see you are staring at that painting of mylate husband, Monsieur."Oliver, startled by the voice behind him, turned around and came face.