• No One Asked Questions by Tom Andes

    Girls. That’s what Mr. O’Malley called us when he gave us the strawberry Seagram’s wine cooler, which meant he knew it was wrong, since we were sixteen and his students. Felt weird to call him Mister. He wasn’t that much older than we were. Twenty-two, with golden hair and a face tanned from being in […]

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  • Valley Girl by Tom Andes

    Next door, that skank Isabella is at it again. Four o’clock on a Tuesday night, by which I mean Wednesday morning, and she’s crowing to Jesus while she gets plowed to high heaven. Bad enough her bedsprings creak. Bad enough her headboard slaps the wall separating our studios like a fishmonger slapping his wares against […]

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  • Warning Shot by Tom Andes

    Three o’clock the rain started, and by 3:15, I was watching Bienville Street flood, water backing up the storm drains, sloshing over the curbs. My uncle Max’s white trash girlfriend Loretta, who’d once been my daddy’s girlfriend, was singing along to Rihanna in the bathroom, “Kiss It Better.” Uncle Max had just gotten home, and […]

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