The bum sitting with my brother was filthy, his grizzled beard stained with food and tobacco. He fixed me with his blue eyes.
“Got us a visitor,” he said through his gash mouth. He had no teeth and sounded like the gaunt prospector from some western.
“Who’s this old fuck?” I asked BB. ” Jesus? Solomon?”
The man sat up His twisted left leg seemed to pain him when he moved. “Name’s Danny. I am holed up here for a spell. You brother’s a Samaritan. Been bringing me food and keeping me company.”
“Danny was friends with Pop,” said BB. “In the Navy.”