* * *
Jordan had chosen a bar called the Dugout. Linc was very familiar with the atmosphere, having worked in his fair share and having fished his dad out of a few more. Dim and a little grimy, but that gave it personality. He’d driven by another bar downtown a few times. Where the Dugout used neon beer signs to entice customers to enter, the one downtown had posters in the window advertising live music and cocktails.
Without a chaperone, Avery was likely to get jumped in a place like the Dugout, or at least lost in the press of bodies at the bar. Maybe somewhere that served cocktails while a bearded guy with a guitar played soft music was more Avery’s speed.
Of course, that sounded an awful lot like a date, which was not what Linc and Avery were doing. They were friends—could only be friends—and that was how they were going to stay.
Avery’s mom had definitely seemed like a white wine and snacks type of lady, though. She was probably responsible for the lasagna. Although something in Avery’s face, when Linc had said she seemed nice, spoke of a pain beyond his embarrassment over blurting out they weren’t on a date.
They ordered drinks and found Jordan and Chelsea huddled in a booth with a bunch of people Linc didn’t know. Avery stuck close to Linc as they squeezed into the round booth. Introductions were passed around, but Linc forgot almost everyone’s name, except for Derek, who sat across the table from them. Derek was loud, dominating the conversation. He was the kind of guy who thought he was hot shit, but also felt the need to prove it by jumping into every conversation to give his take on things.
“Linc is a firefighter,” Chelsea said to the woman next to her.
“Really?” Her friend, who had introduced herself as Emma, sat up a little straighter. She was petite and wore a low-cut top that showed off her cleavage. As she looked Linc up and down, she pulled her long brown hair back, baring her shoulders.
Linc smiled. She wasn’t the first—or the last, probably—woman to like his profession.
“A firefighter?” Derek said from across the table. “That must make you popular.”
Linc ignored him.
“Do you rescue many people?” Emma asked, eyes wide.
“Not really. It’s mostly property damage and close calls.”
“That’s how we met,” Avery said.
Linc grinned at him. “Yours was a very specific kind of close call.”
“Do you want to dance?” Emma said.
Linc sipped his drink and shook his head. “I’ll pass.”
“I’ll dance,” Avery said. Linc had to slide out of the booth again to let them by, and Chelsea and Emma both grabbed Avery’s hands, giggling as they led him away.
Linc downed the rest of his beer as the three on the dance floor picked up the rhythm of the meat-and-potatoes rock playing over the sound system.
“What’s his name again?” Jordan asked over Linc’s shoulder.
“Avery.”
“And how do you know him?”
Linc smiled as he flagged down a server to order another beer. “We met at work.”
“Oh, yeah?” Derek said, a gleam in his eye. He hadn’t even made it to ten o’clock, and the flush in his face said he was already halfway to loaded. “Was there a fire at the massage parlor by the highway?”
Linc stared at him. A tiny spark of fear lit up in his chest as Derek’s grin spread. Linc’s dad had smiled like that on more than one occasion, when he knew he was facing down a weaker opponent.
“Don’t be an asshole, Der,” Jordan muttered.
“What? It’s funny because—”
Linc tuned him out. On the dance floor, Chelsea, Emma, and Avery were moving now. Or the girls were moving anyway. Avery was...well... The white boy had rhythm—except he was clearly listening to music no one else could hear. His joints popped and flailed, bobbing totally out of sync. If more people were dancing, he might have been a safety hazard, the way his elbows stuck out and his head rocked in every direction. But Chelsea and Emma seemed to have taken it upon themselves to form a protective perimeter, dancing just out of reach but also keeping any other dancers at a safe distance to avoid injury.
“So, Linc,” Derek said. “They got you doing any calendars?”
Jordan laughed and shoved at Linc’s shoulder.
