Suddenly the lights flipped on, a massive cake appeared and an adorable, frightened little blonde girl was led into the room by a couple of larger, protective-looking friends as the room exploded with cheers. After “Happy Birthday” subsided, the surly guy finally wandered over.

“So, do you guys know Shelly?”

I would have been game to lie, but thankfully Alan took the easy route and answered in the negative.

“I kind of thought that,” the guy said sarcastically. “This is a private party. I’d suggest you leave. Quickly.”

I brushed the offense I felt at the lack of his qualifier’s necessity aside and we got the hell out of there.

We had left out the back and were walking through an alley when a guy with a shaved head and a fully buttoned flannel shirt brushed past us to stand behind a dumpster breathing heavily. His neck, head and part of his face were covered with tattoos. Feeling amicably drunk, I asked him what was going on.

“Shit man, I just been chillin’ tonight, crusin’ the streets, and shit… motherfucking cops are after me right now. I’m just trying to post up and let shit cool off.” I had to assume that whatever he had left out was somewhat significant, but I didn’t press. “So what the fuck you guys doing in the cut?” he asked, waving drunkenly around the alley.

“Well, we just tried to get in that bar but they kicked us out because of some fucking birthday party,” Alan said.

“Fuck that,” he said, reaching into his waistband. “Shit, if you guys are thirsty, I got more of this than I can drink.” He pulled out a fifth of Jack Daniels. I was impressed that he could run with a bottle in his khakis, and said so. “Shit man, you know how I do.” He passed the bottle around once so we could all get a good hit off it.

We stood there alone in the dim light of the alley that smelled lightly of rotting vegetables and French fries. I could hear the distorted voices of the drunken street crowds bouncing off the surrounding buildings into our corner, but otherwise it was quiet. We stood there a long while, passing the bottle back and forth and talking all kinds of bullshit. I never got his name, but Alan and I later agreed that our alley friend was a kind soul. Eventually when the whiskey ran dry, we all shook hands and parted ways.