“I’m more of a Corona man.”
The sirens are far off now, no more than a faded memory lost to the streets of Los Angeles. The two men have slowed to a walk. Tonight’s threat has passed. Their hearts are still catching up, beating in rhythm with the music emanating from the house in front of them. Inside, the scene stands in stark contrast to the journey that’s brought them to this point. Nearly two dozen men and women are dancing and laughing and otherwise enjoying themselves in a familiar place. A home. One of the two men addresses a partygoer before returning with a bottle. “You can have any brew you want,” Dom says, handing the beer to Brian. “…as long as it’s a Corona.”