She paused at their table, shoving wavy red hair behind one ear. Jutting out her ample chest, she glanced at the three empty beer mugs on his table. "Sure. You drinking the light stuff?"

"We are," Nick's friend, Gil Gates, spoke up in a gravelly voice. "And I resent the fact that you know that. Do we look like we need to drink light beer?"

Her eyes widened, and she stammered trying to answer.

"Never mind." Nick touched her arm. She was a new employee at Houlihan's, their usual hangout, and probably didn't realize how much guff a bar full of cops, unwinding on a Friday night, could give her. "Three light beers on tap will be just fine."

"Thanks." She smiled appreciatively, and hurried off.

Gil picked up the small napkin in front of him, tearing it into tiny shreds as he spoke. "I do resent it. All of a sudden, we're three middle aged guys who need to watch our weight and our cholesterol. When the fuck did that happen?"

"Seems like overnight." Sam Nielson shoved his empty glass back. "Used to be, someone like her would check us out. Now, I feel more like her old man."

"Or her grandpa," Gil teased, and they all laughed.

"You two are pathetic." Nick shook his head, looking at his friends. His friends were barely forty, nowhere near old. "Why so glum? I know it was a hell of a long week, but it's Friday night. No special plans?"

"I haven't had special plans in months." Sam muttered, running a hand through his short brown hair. "Christ, it's been so long, I actually considered picking up a hustler."

"Ooh!" Gil made a face. "That is desperate. Before you do something drastic, talk to Nick. Working in Vice, he can tell you how nasty some of those types can be. Am I right?" He glanced to Nick for support.

"You're right," Nick agreed.

"I know I'm right! Some of that shit might make your pecker fall off."

Sam rolled his eyes as the young, scantily-clad waitress returned.

She set the steins in front of them, and removed their empties. "Here you go. Three light beers on tap." Glancing at Nick, she added, "Your change?"

He raised a hand. "Keep it. And do me one more favor, will you?" He tucked two dollar bills into her hand. "Play a couple songs on the jukebox? Some Springsteen, maybe something from the Born in the U.S.A. album?"

She looked at him blankly.

Nick smiled. "Okay, anything Springsteen."

"That's Bruce Springsteen," Gil added. "He's an old guy like us."

"I know who Bruce Springsteen is," the waitress replied haughtily. "My dad listens to him." She walked off toward the jukebox.

The three men burst into laughter. "Was I right?" Gil snorted.

"You were right." Nick nodded, picking up his beer and taking a gulp. The first sip of a beer on tap was usually so cold, it virtually burned going down. He took another long drink. "That's good."

"Light beer," Gil muttered, raising his glass to imbibe.

"So, what about you two?" Sam chugged half his beer, then set it down. "How are things in the romance department? If I can't get any, I might as well live vicariously through you."

"Nothing new for me to report." Gil shook his head. "Eight years with the same person, ho hum."

"Stop it," Nick nudged his arm. Music started in the background and The Boss's gritty voice belted out remembrances of Glory Days. Nick glanced at his friends, amazed that the young woman got it right. They all smiled and nodded as he went on, "You have what everyone's looking for: a serious, steady relationship. What are you complaining about?"

Gil shrugged. "Eh, you know me. I can't complain, but sometimes I do anyways. Things are fine at home, just a little dull." He slumped back in his chair.

"Maybe you need to spice things up a bit," Sam suggested. "There's an adult novelty shop down on 149th by the Hub--they have stuff like you've never imagined. Take Jerry with you, or better yet, surprise him. I saw this leather whip, almost like a riding crop. Damn, that could be interesting. You wouldn't even need to buy handcuffs. One of the perks of being a cop."

"A cop in uniform, too," Nick agreed, needling his friend. Gil was the most straight-laced of the three men, steadfast about wearing his blues every day, and his sandy blond hair in a military-style high and tight cut. "Every man loves a guy in uniform. Start out fully dressed, that leather whip flying, and see how long it takes Jerry to rip those clothes right off you."

They stopped talking when a couple cops from Nick's precinct walked by and nodded. The three friends nodded back, sipping their beers. The officers moved on and Nick muttered, "Maybe we should find a gay bar to hang out at. This gets to be kind of a hassle every couple weeks."

Gil shook his head. "I'm not going to any gay bar. The wrong person sees us in there, and it could be all over."

"Okay." Nick ended the subject that usually cropped up when they got together. Gil was a captain in charge of NYPD's fiftieth Precinct, and probably had more to risk than any of them. Nick and Sam were both detectives at the forty-first. Neither one thought their life would come to an end if word got out they were gay. Gil felt differently, and always had.

"So what do you think? Want the address of that novelty shop?" Sam teased Gil.

Nick smiled into his glass.

"Are you fucking nuts? I'm not going into a place like that. Things are fine between me and Jerry. Just don't you worry about us. Pick on D'Amato for awhile."

Sam glanced at him questioningly.

Nick raised his hands. "Don't pick on me. Nothing to report here."

"No hot young stud knocking down the defenses of Detective Nicholas D'Amato?"

"Not lately." Nick loved his two friends like brothers, but he was not going there.

Gil downed the last of his beer and belched loudly. He set the stein down with a thud and grinned. "What's D'Amato?"

Sam tossed back his beer and let loose an equally loud burp. "Nothing. What's D'Amato with you?"

Nick polished off his drink and stood, tossing more cash on the table. He picked up his black leather jacket from the back of his chair, and smiled at them. "You two are assholes. Always have been, always will be."

"Now we're older, wiser assholes," Gil agreed.

"Speak for yourself." Sam stood, adding some cash to the tip pile. "I'm horny enough to act like a kid, and let wisdom be damned. If you need me, I'll be trolling the gay bar a few blocks over."

"Be safe." Nick looked at his friend seriously.