12. Wasabi

You saunter through hotel lobby. James takes your arm and whispers plan in your ear. You cannot discern Frank in the club's throng.

'Two butchers of every beer you have on tap.' James slides his card and a twenty over the bar. 'In schooner glasses, if you would.'

You skull one of the three-quarter schooners. Like yourself, it is crafty with a note of caramel. James fits six in a two handed grasp and zigzags along the club's right hand side. He leaves a glass on every half-empty table he passes. You leave a similar breadcrumb trail on the club's left.

The balcony is jostling with folks familiar with one another. The spider's web is set. The beers will funnel Frank's alcoholism onto the balcony. The Uber is coming. You drink your last beer and check your phone - your partner has not tried to contact you.

The smoker's finished, the group on the balcony lemmings inside. You roll over the railing. With toes on tiles' edge, you notice something bristly beneath you. Enter Frank. He lights a small metal pipe:

'Hello again. What, uh, are you doing?'

'Um. Kidnapping you?'

'Oh.' Coughing. 'Okay.'

'Chris thinks this is hilar-' James rubs hands deliciously before noticing Frank. 'Uber's here.'

Which is a lie by ten minutes. You wish you had another three-quarter schooner. You all pile into the car and ride silent. Main road suburbia is magic in the night. Arrival: you walk into something bristly to pee.

A phone chimes and Frank burps: 'Chris says he's hitting it off with that dreadlocked chick.'

You raise a high-five with a 'Nice!' and Frank delivers.

'Oh.' James. 'Fuck.'

Frank and James convene without you. You wish you had not peed so that you would have something to do whilst this shit takes its time.

'So.' Frank, eventually, approaches you. 'Would you prefer to break into an empty house or an occupied garden?'

Breaking into the house seems more direct.

The garden involves entering but not breaking.