“What are you, my babysitter?” I snap. I’ve got a good buzz going, and I don’t need his bullshit.
“Hey, man, I just don’t want to see you get drunk and do something stupid to get over this thing with Dee.”
I take another gulp. “What do you care how I get overthis thing? You said we were a mistake.”
“Jesus, Mick, stop harping on that already. You know why I said it. Finding out about you and Dee was a shock. You two are like family.”
“We’re not related,” I say defensively.
“I’m not related to her either, but I still think of her as my sister.”
“Well, I don’t and I never did.”
“Yeah, I get that now,” he says. “But she’s not exactly your type.”
I let the front legs of the chair reconnect with the floor and narrow my eyes at Victor. “Don’t make me have to kick the shit out of you.”
He shakes his head. “I don’t mean it like that.”
“Then howdoyou mean it?”
“You’re used to girls looking for a good time. You don’t do long term or high maintenance.”
The muscles in my jaw pull tight. “Fuck, you’re such an asshole. I didn’t do long term because I didn’t care about those girls.”
“Chill, Mick,” he says. “I know you care about Dee. I’m just saying it’s kind of strange that you picked someone the polar opposite of every girl you’ve ever been with. Dee’s like a closed book. She doesn’t let people in. I love her, but she’s got a lot of baggage.”
“So do I! What’s your point?”
“Thatis my point. You’ve got all this shit with your father’s drinking, and she’s got all this shit with her mother putting her into foster care. Sometimes people get together for the wrong reasons. You don’t want to rush into something when you’re only eighteen. Cooling things off is probably a good thing.”
“Yeah, it’s just fucking great.” I feel like punching something. But I can’t punch Victor, so I drink.
Rarely do I touch the hard stuff. Don’t want to be any more like my old man than I already am. But my beer buzz isn’t enough to dull the thoughts of Dee pounding in my head. So when the party’s in full swing, I join a game of strip shots. At my turn, I balance a quarter on my thumb, take a bleary aim at the red paper cup in the center of the table, and let it fly. The silver coin flashes in the dimly lit kitchen and flips over, striking the edge of the cup and knocks it over. The crowd hoots with laughter.
“If NC State could only see their draft pick now,” taunts Winston, one of my teammates. “Guess tossing quarters ain’t as easy as making those three-point shots you’re so famous for.”
“Fuck you,” I retort and remove my shoes.
Kimmie, Frannie Mae’s daughter, sticks a lime wedge in her mouth and beckons me with the crook of her finger. I laugh it off, skipping the lime, and just slam back the shot of tequila. It burns my throat and tastes like hell.
“Again!” someone shouts.
Victor pulls me aside and warns me to take it easy, but I shake him off and resume my position in the game. Three more misses and three shots later, I’m stripped down to my jeans and the room’s a little blurry. I rub a hand over my face to clear my vision and call it quits. I get heckled about being a lightweight, and Linc, another teammate, takes my place.
Victor’s on the couch chatting up Christa Hardy, and aside from the stripping boozers, everybody’s in some state of girl–guy contact. Not what I want to see.
Needing air, I grab a beer out of the cooler and head out to the deck. I kick back in one of the lounge chairs and let the balmy breeze blow over me. It’s quiet and I don’t dare look across the distance to imagine what Dee’s doing at home. Instead, I gaze up at the black sky. There’s a faint moon and a few stars. The dark suits my mood.
Behind me, I hear the patio door slide open, and then there’s movement at my side. “Want some company?”
I don’t. But my fuzzy gaze travels up a pair of long, slim legs beneath a miniskirt to the pretty face of Tamara Scott. She’s a college girl now, but we hung out last summer before she left for school. I don’t even know which one—when we were in her bedroom, we didn’t spend much time talking.
“I saw you come out here by yourself,” she says.
That should have been her first clue that I wanted to be alone, but I flash my patented smile. “Grab a seat.”
She steps forward, her eyes fixated on my bare chest. “I thought about you a lot while I was gone. About all the fun we had.”
