I shoot it straight with no salt or lime. I send it back to him, and with the knife, he stops it from flying off the table. I nod, and he pours another.
It’s three shots in before I’ve gotten over wanting to strangle Costa myself, not that it would do any good. The whole death-tripping thing is rather problematic. Sam keeps rubbing my back, reminding me that he’s here, that things are okay.
“So, man, what’s up with the lights?” Costa jabs a finger at the living room ceiling. “Tell me that’s not what you came back with.”
“I was happy with the limited rain power, but…”
“Dude.” Costa leans over the table and whispers, “It’s kinda lame.”
“Lame?” I throw a lime wedge at him. “Sam, show him.”
“He’ll still think it’s lame.”
I grab Sam’s hand and hold it out. “Costa, pick a color.”
He leans back and grins. “Tequila sunrise.”
I squint at him. “Okay, smart-ass.” I smack my hand back against Sam’s chest. “Easy. Do your thing, Bishop.”
Sam groans. “Okay, fine. Here.” He shakes out his hand and then holds it steady.
The lights on the ceiling black out, and a small colored droplet begins to form in his hand, soon growing to be nearly a foot in diameter.
“You made a pretty ball.” Costa claps slowly. “I worship you.”
Sam stares at him with irritation and hurls the globe over Costa’s head. Just before it lands, it explodes, and the entirety of Sam’s apartment is coated in thick tiers of red, orange, and yellow.
“Holy fuck, Sam.” Costa rises from his chair and grins. He spins on his heels, his dark eyes electric with fascination. “Okay, show-off, I’m definitely impressed. You’ve gotten stronger. You never could have done that before. Interesting.”
“You asked for tequila sunrise. I gave you tequila sunrise.” Sam hugs both arms around me.
Costa sets his hands on his hips, and his face softens as he studies Sam—and then, Sam and me. “I really, really missed you. I shouldn’t have left.”
I can feel Sam’s anxiety. “You had to. I get it.”
“I think it was a mistake. I just…” Costa takes a seat again, the orange light covering his skin and somehow making him more striking. “I couldn’t look at you. It hurt too much.”
I slide from Sam’s lap and move back to my chair, but I take his hand in mine.
“I didn’t want to look at me either.”
Costa pours himself another shot and licks the side of his hand. “It wasn’t your fault, Sam.” Slowly, he sprinkles salt and pauses before he takes the salt and tequila. “We were both in a whole shitstorm, and it wasn’t your fault. Everything was fucked up.” He bites a lime wedge and winces. “You were my best friend, and nothing will ever change that.”
“No,” Sam says. “Losing Toby changed that.”
At the sound of Toby’s name, Costa visibly tenses. “No, he didn’t. Even with everything that happened, I needed you. Leaving was a mistake, and I want to be back. I wantusto be back.”
“You’re my brother, Costa. You can come home anytime you want.”
Costa puts his hands behind his head. He flashes a cocky grin that I’m already familiar with. “I’m too fuckin’ sexy to be your brother.”
Sam laughs and shakes his head. “So, we’re back to normal, I see.”
“If normal is disco lights and overpriced tequila, then yes.”
“These are not disco lights, moron. But since you asked…”
Sam claps his hands, and the room goes black. He grows six silver drops in his hand, and he tosses them to the ceiling. Within seconds, glittery balls spin overhead and send white light patterns across our faces.
