Couch Days

Couch Days

A novel by J.D. Lazerine

Story by J.D. Lazerine & Riley Johnson

Edited by Tony Held & Monica Volz

Cover Art by Spencer Olson of Olson Studios

A Note

This is a novel that, as always, owes its existence to the Lord and my mother for being my safety nets from the other side, as well as my father for teaching me the art of finishing what you start.

I dedicate this story to Kenzi. I hope it is a sufficient token of gratitude for everything I learned during our time spent together.

It is also a tribute to Riley, a dear friend and, quite frankly, the smartest person I have met under the age of twenty­five. He helped immensely with this story while also providing inspiration for one of the characters.

I must also pass along my gratitude in the highest regard to Jack, Alec, Samantha, Michael, Steven, and Madeline for enriching my life so damn much it helped inspire this book.

​

And lastly, I’d like to thank Aaron, the best man at my eventual wedding and the most generous human I know. He was my confidant for the bulk of the dark moments encountered during this novel’s conception, and I owe him quite a few favors, a bottle of whiskey, and a replacement ​Batman Begins collector’s edition DVD.

Anyways.

I hope that this story finds you well.

Sincerely,

J.D.

Part One May 7­June 15 2015

Mansard Point, Maine

“Everyone’s dying, but girl, you’re not old yet”

­​Ezra Koenig

Chapter 1

Coop Stockton wanted to be a professional golfer many years ago. He had one of those flawless swings primed for Sundays at major tournaments. The summer after graduating high school, Coop figured to play for a junior college and work his way up to the amateur circuit and thus landed a groundskeeper’s gig at Mansard Point Resort to milk some free golf. Apparently he took nicely to the job because it turned into a year­round gig. I think Coop was twenty­five or twenty­six when Mansard Point Resort made him the superintendent. I don’t think he’s left town much since.

He sat in front of me. He had an impeccable amount of burly to him. His arms and face were saturated in dust a few shades darker than a farmer’s tan.

I was polishing off a glass and trying to keep my wits about me as the crowd grew steadily. “What’ll it be?”

Coop took a moment before answering, tracing his fingers around the bar coaster.

“Surprise me.”

I fetched him a gin and tonic.

“You wanna know something, Kiel?”

“Sure,” I said.

“You can tell a lot about a man by what liquor he drinks.”

I set his drink down. The bar was filling at a quicker pace now. I could feel the impending rush of customers in my bones. “But what if a man drinks anything?”

“Just because a man ​can drink anything doesn’t mean he ​should.”

“Selective.”

Coop took a hell of a first sip. “I can taste the Juniper.”

“That’s how I make ‘em for the good guys.”

“Well, what’ll it be tomorrow you think?”

“I think the tee sheet will be packed wall­to­wall.”

“You really think so?”

“Best greens in the state.”

“You haven’t been to many tracks.”

“A few. Not a lot of golf in Maine.”

“But out of the few you’ve played?”

“I solemnly swear, these are the best, my good sir.”

“You’re one of the better ones, Kiel.” He finished the drink and requested another. “If you wanted to swing by the shack tonight, I got some good scotch.”

“Nothing sounds better. I’ll grab that drink.”

Jackson Hunt walked in, sunglasses hugging his face and an Armani blazer covering his work polo. We called him Ace. “Five minutes late,” I said.

He popped a handful of aspirin. “Hold your horses, bud. If you spend too much time on that perch of yours, you might just get altitude sickness.”

“At least get a little sober.”

“Funny.” He opened the door to the backstock liquor and gestured me in. I dropped off Coop’s drink and followed Ace. He was the type of guy you followed into liquor closets.

He folded his blazer carefully. “Party tonight for the new staff?”

“That’s tonight?”

He reached for a bottle of whiskey. “It’s always been the night before the courses open.”

“I promised Coop I’d come out to the shack tonight.”

“Why not both?” Ace took a quick pull and passed the bottle. I took a sip or five.

“We’ve got bar tomorrow night.”

“We’ll be fine. New servers are going to stop by, too.”

“You get your house all set up?”

Ace really laid into the whiskey and when he was done he shrugged off the burn like a scholar. “Parents are still lingering around.”

“So?” “Your house has always been a very close second to mine” “I think James and Mariah are there,” I said.

“The more the merrier.”

“What time can you get us out of here?”

“I think it’s just the two of us.”

“Well that’s cool,” I said.

“We’ve got seniority now. I like seniority.”

“Go clock in.”

Ace took off to the break room as I partook in one more whiskey and returned to my well to find a small crowd drifting in as the band did their soundcheck. I found Coop. “Another?”

“Good for now.” He set down a twenty. I hadn’t even given him a check.

“Nonsense,” I said.

“Take it. See you tonight.”

“They’re the best greens, Coop.”

“You’re the man, Kiel.”

He was gone. The crowd was at the bar. Seven or eight patrons.

“Vodka­tonic!”

“Whiskey­soda!”

“Whatya got on tap?”

“What’s your most expensive scotch?”

“Any gluten­free beer?”

Ace swooped in to pick up my slack and we had the orders dished out in minutes. The crowd made their way towards the stage situated outside the patio door near the kitchen. Groups of ten, fifteen, and twenty entered like clockwork. There were guitar arpeggios, sweeping and smooth, and people dancing in an entanglement of joy and intoxication. At midnight, we were at full capacity and the kitchen was still cranking out pizzas. The indoor dance floor and patio out by the stage overflowed with boisterous college dudes, howls from the middle­aged moms on their girlfriend getaway, and the murmurs of gentlemen in their mid­life crises, trading fishing and golfing stories and dropping outdated slang in an effort to score some blow. Ace and I managed only two more liquor closet meetings that shift. When I finally clocked out, I found him beneath a canopied picnic table near the shoreline of Mansard Lake. “You do well?”

He looked up, a fresh cigarette hanging to his lips by a thread. “Three­ten” “Nice.”

“You?”

“Three­twenty,” I said. “Enough to pay off all the tabs you’ll start in my name this week.”

“You’re delusional.” Ace got around to lighting the cigarette. There were bags under his eyes, illuminated by the cherry. “So, what’s the plan for the night?” ~ Ace drove us across the resort’s grounds in his Beamer and we dropped anchor in the parking lot of the executive golf course. I rarely played it, but it had an old­timey allure to it. We walked from the seventeenth hole—a dinky little par­three with a green barely large enough to fit a car—to the fourteenth and cut through the woods to reach the seventh and came upon a shack just beneath a valley on the edge of the fairway. We knocked twice and entered.

“Come on in now.” Coop led us into the living room of the shack he had been given in lieu of a signing bonus from the Resort.

“Ace, it’s been too long,” Coop said.

“Don’t even recognize ya, you old bastard. Greens are in ​fine shape,” Ace said.

“You think so?”

“Best greens in the state,” Ace replied.

“You guys have been my favorites for quite a while now. What, five years?”

“My fourth,” I said.

“Third,” Ace said. “You been drinking?”

Coop’s eyes lit up. “You want some?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Not in my woods,” said Coop. He grabbed a drink for Ace and then we sat around a coffee table. He pulled a jar from a safe and set it in front of us. It was filled to the brim with fluffy nugs of pot. Coop was tickling fifty years old, but only from a physical sense.

Ace finished off the scotch and put up his legs on the coffee table. “You ever go out and play anymore?”

Coop made quick work of constructing a joint and passed it to Ace. “I told you guys last year, I hung it up. And I told you the year before.”

“I guess your record is pretty safe,” I said.

Ace nodded. “Nobody’s shooting a sixty­three,” “There’s this kid,” said Coop, his gaze off towards the window. “He’s been coming here every summer on the weekends to practice. Parents put up a membership for him, and he’s got a scholarship already. I saw his name on the tee sheet for tomorrow.”

“A sixty­four is pretty low.” I said. “A sixty­three? Not happening.”

“This kid, I’ll call him by his name ‘cause he deserves it, but this kid Michael is good.

He’s a natural. He had a sixty­six last summer, and he won state this year.”

“You should go out and play,” Ace said.

“I can’t play anymore.” Coop brought his attention back to us. “I had my fun.”

Ace was adamant. “You should enjoy those greens, for the love of God.” Coop tapped his feet and slouched deep into his chair. We smoked the rest of the joint and he politely sent us away.

~

Ace had been parading me around my own house for an hour amidst a crowd of our new co­workers before we came upon two girls standing in my kitchen talking to random people.

“Have you two met Kiel?”

“We did,” Mary said. She was firm in her footing, an American girl with doe eyes and a country club smile. Ace was practically beaming at her.

“He makes a mean Martini,” Ace said. “I’m not too shabby either, I guess.”

“Vodka or gin?” Mary asked.

Ace brought out his smile; slightly crooked and mostly white but completely genuine and unmistakable. “I think that’s up to you,” Mary gave him an incredibly subtle once­over. “Cute.”

Ace turned to the girl next to Mary. “Do you two go to the same school?”

“I’m nursing,” said Aubrey. Her jet black hair sat in a bun and her gaze wandered to all corners of the house. “I like the house. Nice vibes. I think an Andy Warhol painting would look good by the staircase.”

I pretended to know who Andy Warhol was for the sake of conversation and I’m guessing Ace did too because he wanted to be a lawyer. I’ve always been told that’s a part of the job.

Ace smiled and gestured to the island. “How about some shots?”

“We have to drive home,” Mary said.

“Nobody’s forcing you.”

“Funny,” Mary said. “One shot and that’s it.”

“It’s all I need, sweetheart.”

We went to the table and did shots and toasted to the new staff and got to know the new guys a little bit more before everybody trickled out around half past three. Then it was quiet. I took pride in our house being the most nocturnal on Bixby Street.

“We should get breakfast at Spires tomorrow,” Ace said. He flipped through my movie collection and I didn’t even bother making a suggestion. Doing the bar shift and party back­to­back had taken some serious steam out of me. We sat on my couch as I surveyed the damage from the brief shindig. At least twenty empty bottles of liquor were lying around while garbage from mixed drinks and snacks coated the entire living room. I found my stash and rolled a joint.

Ace decided on ​Top Gun but paid the film very little attention. He carried on about Mary well into the second act; he had gotten her alone for a few minutes and found out that she loved softer classic rock and the occasional jam band and wished to live on a houseboat with her future husband and a dog when she retired. He went on until I turned up the volume on the TV and turned over for the night.

Chapter 2

I walked out to my porch the next morning as James flipped some pancakes from the griddle to a plate and set them on the table in front of Ace, who was pretty damn good at pretending to listen to James when he droned on. “So, yeah...Mariah and I caught the midnight showing of that new Brad Pitt shitshow and crashed at her place.”

“You missed the new servers,” I said.

James shrugged. “Oh well.”

Mariah appeared and set some flowers in a vase between Ace and I. “Morning, boys.”

Ace picked at his pancakes and poured some Irish cream in his coffee. “How was the movie?”

“Wonderful,” she said. “Oh my gosh, it was ​so good.”

James shook his head and tended to the pancakes. Mariah fetched me a coffee. I didn’t even ask.

Ace rubbed his eyes and stared into his cup. “You on tonight, James?”

“Two­to­ten.”

“The money shift.”

“I’m asking for a raise soon. I’ve got a plan.”

“Enlighten us.”

“The concrete details aren’t there, yet,” said James. “I’ve got the pieces, just got to put them together.”

“Gonna take off?”

“Anywhere,” James said. “Maybe I’ll go to California. I could go to Michigan. I could go to New York. Okay, maybe not New York, but I could go anywhere else.”

Mariah set down a cup of coffee in front of me.

“Will you come back?” Ace asked.

“I don’t see why,” James said.

Ace raised his coffee mug. “To greener pastures.”

James obliged. “How’s the University?”

“Academic suspension,” said Ace. “Let’s keep it below the wire tap. Mom and dad can’t know. Dad’s been wanting me to get done so I can get to law school and take over the firm.”

“Shit,” said James.

“I liked Saturdays a lot,” Ace said. “People are at their truest on Saturdays.”

“There’s Hayward,” said James. “At least until you can get back into the U. I think Kiel is going there this fall.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“If you have a plan, you don’t need college,” said James.

“We’re living fine,” I said.

Ace drowned his coffee in some more Irish cream.

“It’s not a race,” I said to him.

Ace chugged the whole damn thing. “No shame in combatting the edge.”

“Don’t you have to train Mary in tonight?”

“Circumstantial,” said Ace. He poured another coffee. “Just need to get a little loose for a long night. But...I think we could take Mary and Aubrey out on a fine double­date. Rent out the ​Mansard Belle, all to ourselves.”

“Not a giant fan of dates,” I said.

“Preaching to the choir,” said Ace. We clicked glasses. James excused himself to his room.

“I bet town square is packed,” I said.

“Should we go get some mini donuts?”

“I think so.”

We walked into the town square. It was just up the hill from the resort. Ma and Pa shops lined the avenues. There was a mini donut stand in the park. They were deep fried to perfection and I could always taste the sugar melting on my tongue. We got a bag each and strolled from store to store, water bottles in hand to combat the Irish coffees we had downed earlier. I found us a spot under a tree nestled in a shaded area of the park.

“I had a friend who lived in the same dorm as me freshman year, we got a house with a few other guys sophomore year. His name was Tom,” said Ace. He finished his mini donuts and lit a cigarette. “We drank a lot together. He told me about how he wanted to be a doctor, and how he was from a poor family that could barely afford a studio flat up in Georgia County.

He had to drop out. I don’t talk to him anymore, but I wonder how he is.”

I tried to savor the mini donuts, but Ace’s story made that kind of difficult. “Should we head back soon?”

“Yeah,” said Ace. “Probably just gonna use your shower before work, by the way. And I don’t have any soap or toiletries. I hope you have that nice shampoo still.”

“You’re the worst person ever.” I held my water bottle out for a toast.

He obliged. “Takes one to know one.” ~ I emerged from the liquor closet to see our head bartender, Josh, tending to some last­second drink requests before yanking his cash drawer from the register and retiring to the break room. He was always the first cut on Saturday nights. I dished out a few tickets and noticed Ace telling Mary a story as they reclined against the sliding glass doors that led out to the smoking dock. She was laughing, but not as much as he was. I went over to my well and washed the few dishes I had before scanning the bar. It was nearly empty.

Then Coop sat down.

“Rather late for you to be out,” I said.

“Jack­and­Coke.”

“One of those nights?”

“Please and thank you.”

I brought him his drink. “What’s up?”

“Michael got a sixty­five today.”

“Was there anyone to attest?”

“One of the resort employees went out with him. Stickler, too. It was Gene.”

“Gene doesn’t even let me take mulligans off the first tee.”

“It was a legitimate sixty­five.”

“Everybody has good days. Drink up.”

“Have you heard anything about the greens?”

“I haven’t heard a damn thing tonight,” I said. “It’s been as loud as a stadium the whole time. A lot of golfers, though. I bet they all loved the greens. It’s the type of thing you don’t usually talk about unless they’re really bad.”

He made little headway on his drink.

“I think we should go play soon,” I said.

“I don’t even know if I remember my swing.”

“It’s just like riding a bike,” I said.

“Maybe,” Coop said. “Did you wanna stop by tonight?”

“I’ll see what’s going on later,” I said.

“What do I owe you?”

“Get out of here.”

“Thank you.”

I thought about Coop and the record and the greens for a while after he left. There was nothing else to do. Then Ace and Mary made their way over to me.

Ace brought the smile out again. “What are you doing tomorrow?”

“Was thinking a couch day,” I said.

“It’s supposed to be gorgeous, and I guess Mary here has quite the vessel.”

“He had to practically twist my arm to convince me,” Mary said. “So I’m obligating you to accept.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll bring some stuff.”

“Perfect. I’ll see you boys tomorrow,” she said, taking off her apron and waltzing out.

“How was her first night?” I asked him.

Ace’s eyes followed her spandex pants until she disappeared around the corner and into the break room. “Fantastic. Just lovely.”

~ There was the warming glow of a bonfire coming from the backyard when Ace and I

arrived at my house later that night. We found James and Mariah out back, listening to soft music as James toked on a joint. James didn’t usually smoke joints. He liked to drink a little whiskey and smoke the occasional cigarette, but he was never big on weed. We sat around the fire in silence until James finished the joint and stretched out his legs. “Got some big news.”

Ace reached for a cigarette. “What’s that?”

“I talked to a financial advisor today in Hyanisport,” James said. “He says I can get where I want to go within two years, provided I follow some boundaries and whatnot; he laid it all out in this document.” He lifted a folder off his lap and showed us all.

“Where is that, again?” Ace asked. “That you wanna go?”

“It’s not where,” said James. “It’s what. I’m thinking my own gig. My own menu. No more bar pizzas and greasy apps.”

“Two years?” I asked.

“By my twenty­sixth birthday I can be running my own little grill, but that reminds me…” We sat still as he thumbed through the folder and looked at me all excited. “How do you feel about another roommate?”

“Maybe, yeah.”

“I have somebody lined up,” said James. “He wants to come by sometime this week and check out the place. If he rented out the loft, it would save some money.”

Ace passed around a bottle of whiskey. “Let’s toast to those greener pastures.”

Mariah turned up the music and urged James to come dance with her. They swayed in the yard to the tune of some velvety sap, making light work with their feet. It lasted long enough for Ace to nurse a handful of cigarettes while staring into his phone. When everybody had retired for the night, I paid a visit to Coop’s shack. The lights were on but I could hear snoring.

I found him stretched out on the couch. The television was flickering. There was a cassette poking out of a VHS player. “Cooper Stockton Recruitment Highlights, 1982­1984” was inscribed on the label in sharpie. I pulled a blanket over him before shutting off the lights and walking home.

Chapter 3 Sun filtered through the living room blinds. I cracked the windows and heard a low wind suppressing the sound of slurred chants, clinking beer bottles, and the echoing thuds of clubheads carving up the fairways. It sounded good when paired with the taste of the cheesy scrambled eggs and thick pancakes I had made. I was thinking about figuring out a time to get on the course that week when those noises outside really got to me. It was a rare occurrence. I shut the windows and napped.

Ace woke me up to a late afternoon sky and the smell of freshly­cooked food sometime later that day. James and Mariah were at the table, enjoying a meal for two.

“Boat time,” Ace said.

“Sure.” ~ The Anne cabin towered over its yard like the colonial manors I had read about in history class. American flags were everywhere. The house was easily three stories, maybe four.

Mansard Lake extended out from a beach barely visible from the driveway. The whole property was tucked away from the rest of town.

Mary led us from the front door out to the balcony overlooking the lake. Aubrey was stretched out on a lawn chair, her face covered by a floppy hat and aviators. She smiled when she saw us and pointed at a table of bottles before returning to her trance.

Ace set all the booze we had brought next to theirs. “Not a terrible collection.”

“You should see my dad’s bar,” Mary said.

Ace looked at the bottles and then at Mary and then back at the bottles. “Here?”

Mary nodded.

“Maybe a quick peek is in order?”

Mary patted his shoulder. “Earned privilege, speed racer. Earned privilege.”

We descended a spiral staircase and made our way through a plush yard that was wide­reaching and finely manicured before reaching a piece of Mansard Lake’s shoreline. The Anne vessel relaxed in the timid wake; a classic­style pontoon soaking up every last ray the sun poured onto its navy and white trim. Mary backed us out with ease.

“So where was the old man today?” Ace asked.

“He doesn’t live here,” Mary said. She sipped wine from a tumbler. “This is just one of our cabins. We had been spending our summers over near Nantucket for the last few years, but Aubrey wanted to try somewhere a little smaller and I guess I don’t regret it.”

“Peace and quiet,” Aubrey said, sprawled out on the bow of the boat. “Peace and quiet.”

Ace looked up from his drink. “Nantucket? Like ​the Nantucket?”

“I believe there is only one,” Mary said. She called back to Aubrey, who confirmed that there was indeed only one major Nantucket in the world.

Ace gathered himself. “Have we stole your heart away from that town yet?”

“The sun is nice here,” said Mary. “You can see it a little better. It seems closer. I think that’s the difference.”

“Do you golf?” Ace asked.

“A few times, but that’s mostly dad’s game.”

“What’s he in?” Ace was doing a damn fine job at appearing interested. Or maybe he actually was. It was tough to tell with how bright the sun was and how wonderfully cold my beer was.

“Broker.” It was Mary’s first time out on Mansard Lake but she piloted us as if she had cruised every nook and cranny of it. “Mom’s got some family oil she helps manage.”

“Busy bunch,” said Ace. “We see them a few times in the summer and over the holidays. They live full­time in New York City now. At least mom does,” said Mary. She hushed herself quite suddenly. “I say, I’m thirsty, does anybody want a drink?”

“A beer, if you would,” Ace said. “Also, I know of an island.”

“Is that so?”

“It’s got a panoramic view of the entire east side of the lake. It’s nice.”

“Can I trust you with captain duties?”

“I don’t like to go before my own name.”

“Consider it probationary.” She took a sip of her drink and bit her lip at Ace as he took the wheel and set course for the island. ~ Mary was glued to Ace’s hip, walking a ways ahead of Aubrey and I as we traipsed across the west side of the beach. I could feel the plushness of the sand through my flip­flops, and the reflection of the shore had blended with the sun’s reflection on the water’s surface. I think Aubrey enjoyed the view quite a bit ‘cause she couldn’t seem to turn away from it.

I finished the drink in my hand and felt a numb sensation settle upwards toward my chest.

“So what year are you?”

She turned to me and then back to the water. It seemed to be just the most fascinating thing in the universe to her. “Just got done with my second.”

“Nineteen then?”

“Twenty in January. You?” “Twenty­two.”

“College?”

“Not yet,” I said.

“Don’t fault ya,” she said. “Most days I don’t even know if I want to give people sponge baths for the rest of my life.”

“You’re halfway deep.”

“You can get pretty deep into something before realizing it isn’t right.”

“I guess.”

“What do you like to do?”

“Specifically?”

“Yeah. My dad used to always tell me that the only way to be successful is to make money off of what you love.”

“I like to live,” I said. “Enjoy things. I like to enjoy things.”

“A lot of people don’t know how to do that.”

“I guess things around here are kind of like retirement for me.”

“Retirement is a funny concept,” said Aubrey. “Let me tell you why.”

~~~ Aubrey and I took our time wandering. She told me about how cattails were her favorite water­bound plant and I told her I had seen Lynyrd Skynyrd perform years ago. She asked what they closed with. I said “Simple Man.” We agreed it was their best. The sun was scarce when we finally found Ace and Mary beneath an overhang of brush right on the shoreline. Orange smolder wafted from a worn fire pit. The sparks floated into the sky as if they were hot air balloons. Ace was in mid­story with Mary but greeted us with a smile and a bottle of whiskey before continuing on.

“We were at the country club, it’s just out of town,” Ace said.

It was the William Shatner story. I knew it had to be.

“He was actually here, in Maine?” Mary asked.

“You bet your ass,” said Ace. “Kiel, you remember the William Shatner story, right?”

“Yep, word­for­word.”

“Anyways, I see ​Bill about to tee up with a three wood on the next hole. Now, my dad’s got a membership to this course, so I’ve played it quite a bit. And this is, what, a two hundred­and­ten yard par­three, downhill. I had to give it to William. He has to be what, in his sixties now? And he’s playing from the blue tees. I finish out on the hole behind him pretty quickly and cart up to his foursome and sneak in a few words before he swings, thank the Lord above he didn’t scold me. It’s not indicative of a gentleman to interrupt another man while he’s about to swing.”

The whiskey continued to make its rounds and Ace pressed on after taking a big gulp, no chaser. “I tell him, ​excuse me, Mr. Shatner, but it’s downhill and we got some backwind. The

roll from that three­wood would send you straight off the back of the green and into the fallaway.”

There had been a twinkle in Mary’s eyes but she shook it off and stiffened her back at the conclusion of the story. “Exaggeration isn’t a flattering habit.”

“I solemnly swear,” Ace said, putting the whiskey to his chest. “Mr. ​Star Trek himself.”

“And?” Mary asked.

“Hm?” “What did he say?”

Ace grinned. “Maybe you’ll find out someday. If you’re good.”

Mary leaned back and grabbed the bottle from him. “Ass.” ~ Ace looked the part of a captain, I had to give that to him. We were floating across Mansard, hovering at a perfect speed as dusk emerged from behind the trees. He gestured to Mary to sit on his lap. She declined. He offered once more and she relented.

“This is only so I can make sure you’re treating my baby right.” She leaned forward and inspected all of the gages on the dashboard. Ace ran his fingers across her back and before long she was nuzzling her chin into his shoulder. Aubrey had sprawled out on the bow and was yet again staring at the sky with shades on. I did my best to get my next drink down. We were making our way to the Lounge, and I had never been a big fan of being at work sober when I wasn’t on the clock.

“Have You Ever Seen The Rain?” came through the speakers. It had always been a fine tune. Mary leapt to her feet. “CREDENCE!”

Ace maintained a good pace on his beer. That same grin was across his face. I knew he would get us to the Lounge. Ace had never been the one to cause me much worry, even when he was drunk driving a boat.

We came to the channel that was the gateway to the bay on which Mansard Point Resort dwelled. The Lounge was situated right on the water directly across the bay from the channel and we could see the neon lights and the silhouettes of patrons mingling and melting into the night.

Mary finished the chorus of the song and squinted about. “Hey, stop.”

Ace paid it no mind.

“Ace!” He snapped back into it and slowed the engine. I saw lights from the side of the channel where one of the residential streets ran up to the shore. They were flashing lights. An ambulance and a couple of cop cars. A small fishing boat had run ashore and capsized. We drifted closer. Nobody spoke.

A group of uniformed people hovered in a circle around something. They looked like EMTs. Somebody emerged from the ambulance with a stretcher. Then there was sobbing, shrill and desperate. It was a woman trying to claw her way through the EMTs. They held her back and a body was lifted onto the stretcher. The woman cried, much louder this time. The EMTs kept her away from the ambulance as some other uniformed men stepped out of the squad cars.

Mansard Point Police Department. They were usually busy this time of year. But I had never seen anything like this.

The ambulance sped away, sirens fading into the night as it left. We continued to drift in the boat. Mary stepped back from the edge and sat on the deck. Ace started the engine and trolled towards the Lounge. Aubrey and I looked at each other, but we couldn’t find any words to say.

Chapter 4

I woke up to the echo of a quiet knock on the door. I rubbed my eyes and noticed the familiar late day sun spilling past the shades and dragged myself off the couch and opened the door.

The new roommate stood in front of me. He had shaggy hockey hair and wore boat shoes and a colorful rugby shirt. His eyes looked me up and down in a split second and then retreated.

“Andy, right?”

“Yes, yes sir.” His smile was crooked.

“Come on in,” I said. “Sorry about the smell.”

“I really like the location.”

I drew the blinds. “Right next to all the drunk 20­handicappers avoiding their wives by abusing their all­inclusive wristbands and snorting bad coke off the golf cart steering wheel.”

“Vivid.”

“Grab a seat.”

He found a seat on a barstool in front of the kitchen’s island.

“Something to drink?”

“I know it might be asking too much, but chocolate milk if you got it.”

“How old are you?”

“Twenty.”

“How about a beer?”

“No thanks.”

“Alright,” I said. I cracked one for myself and fetched a joint as well. I prepared a candle because I wanted to be considerate to Andy. He seemed like a good kid.

“You partake?”

He declined the joint too.

“Do you mind?”

He shook his head.

“So. What brings you around?”

Then we heard a belligerent shouting match outside and the sound of a beer glass cracking via golf club.

“Need to take a breather,” Andy said.

“Not sure you’re in the right place,” I said.

“I’ve heard and read great things,” he said.

“Ah, okay,” I said. “That’s usual.”

“Interesting,” he said. He didn’t look at me. I ushered him upstairs. “This’ll be your room.”

He took a liking to the loft. There was a window on the far wall peering out at the row of houses lining the sixteenth hole. “I like views.”

“Not the worst.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Four years, I think? Moved here straight out of high school with James, he’s the other roommate. We went to high school together.”

“Four years?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s almost a half­decade.”

“It is, I guess.”

We returned to the kitchen and he laid down an envelope in front of me. It contained freshly­pressed hundreds.

“What’s this?”

“Five grand. Covers a year of rent and utilities and a thousand for the security deposit.”

I thumbed through the cash.

“Better safe than sorry,” he said.

“I don’t think this is how it works.”

“It’s okay with me. I don’t really need it.”

“Fair.”

“Cool,” he said, looking down at the floor again. “What do you want to do?”

“Wake up tomorrow,” I said.

“Funny. What about after that?””

“Keep waking up,” I said. “Some nights when Ace is around, I doubt that I’ll keep the privilege.”

“Ace?”

“You’ll meet him when you move in. When is that again?”

“I think I’ll be bringing my stuff over from the hotel after the weekend, if that’s cool?”

“Yeah. You’ll meet Ace at some point after that then. He’s around a lot.”

“Is his name really Ace?” “Jackson,” I said. “But I don’t think we’ve ever called him that.”

“Cool,” he said. His feet tapped the floor with a perfect metronome “Will you work?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Lucky.”

“But, I appreciate it, and it was nice to meet you,” Andy said as he stood up.

“Likewise,” I said. “I’ll see you on Monday.”

“Sure.”

He went out the door. I watched him stealthily through the blinds as he climbed into what looked to be a brand new Volkswagen. It was dark blue and shined very bright in the sun. The engine was quiet. He backed out and was gone. I returned to my joint and thumbed the five grand and thought about a new set of clubs. ~ Ace had sent me a “code blue” text shortly after Andy left. We reserved “code blue” for real emergencies, and its mention never required a follow­up. I knew the process by heart: pick up some middle­shelf whiskey and get to his location quickly. It took all of an hour for me to get dressed and walk to Ace’s cabin a mile up Highway Four. I made my way up his winding

driveway, brown paper bag in hand, and noticed a glistening Escalade in the driveway next to the Beamer. Mister Hunt.

I had little previous experience with Ace’s old man, meeting him a handful of times, mostly in passing. I climbed up to the cherry oak porch and immediately heard some firm talk leaking through a window off to the right. I quieted my steps and strained my ears.

“What do you mean, you’re not sure about the program?”

“Well,” said Ace, “I just, I need a little bit of time to think. I can do tons of things with all the credits I have.”

“I’ve put almost a hundred grand into this for you, Jackson.”

“And if I decide I want to go poli­sci, it’s just one more semester. Maybe two.”

“Jackson.”

“Yeah dad?”

“I didn’t invest a hundred thousand dollars in you to study politics.”

“I can do a lot with poli­sci.”

“Can you get into law school?”

“I mean, no, but—” “I invested a hundred thousand dollars in a lawyer. And a damn good one, too, if you could straighten up and realize you could be senior partner at forty if you put your nose to it.”

“Dad, let me just—” “Jackson. Are you going to be returning to UMA this fall?”

“Dad.” “Son.”

“I got suspended. I failed all my classes.”

“Really.”

“I have to get my GPA up a bit by taking classes elsewhere and then I can get back in.”

“How long will this take?”

“A semester.”

“A semester?”

“Yeah.”

“Consider your accounts frozen until you show me your readmission letter from UMA.” “What about school elsewhere?”

“I guess you can figure that out. Won’t charge you rent to live here over the summer, and I’ll free up a few bucks per week for your food, but if you want to stick around here past August, rent will be expected.”

“I was thinking about going to Hayward this fall.”

“I thought that was a remedial school.”

“It’s a community college, like a half an hour away. I was hoping to stay here and do my classes there.”

“I expect twelve­fifty on the first of September, then.”

“Really?”

“Start taking things seriously.”

I heard the front door open, so I ducked behind a row of shrubs beneath the patio and reemerged when the Escalade had pulled out. Ace was sitting in his living room, overlooking Mansard Lake with a lowball glass in his hand.

“Come fill this up,” he said.

“This was your code blue?”

“Did you hear some of that?”

“A little bit of it.”

I found a seat next to him and filled up his glass. He produced one for me and we toasted silently.

“The code blue was just to get some whisky,” he said, looking into the glass and then back out to the lake at frequent intervals. “I didn’t even see this coming.”

“So you got cut off,” I said. “We make enough. You’ll be fine.”

“I can’t afford that much in rent.”

“You’ll figure it out.”

“I could maybe manage that during the summer. Definitely during the summer. But during the winter? We won’t get shit for money shifts.”

“I bring in about fifteen a month during the winter.”

“One can’t live on that, can they?”

“I have a little nest egg from the summer usually. It’s never a bad life.”

“God dammit,” said Ace. He finished the drink and I refilled it. We always drank the whiskey straight up with a code blue. “I don’t know if I want to be a lawyer.”

“You’d be good at it.”

“Is it really a life? Making money off strife?”

“Never spun it that way.”

“I ​would be good at it, though.”

Chapter 5 It had been a swell night behind the bar at the Lounge. I stepped out the front doors and enjoyed the taste of the air flowing off Mansard Lake mixed in with the tart stench of several different tobacco smokes.

Rides home had been offered to me from the regulars I had come to know, but I thought I could use a walk through the resort. I made my way down the main strip surrounded by cabins and other lodging and the golf course parking lot. A few times I was passed by small groups of 9­5 gentlemen cruising up and down the street on golf carts. They were either playing chicken with cars or trying to pop wheelies or steer with a rolled up dollar bill in one hand and a drink in the other. I arrived at the shack not too long after. ~ “Kiel, James was just telling me some wonderful, wonderful things,” Coop said, passing me the glass.

“I find that hard to believe.” I sipped from the glass. Crown and sour on the rocks. Coop had good taste.

“Plans, Kiel,” James said. He finished off his own whiskey and tossed his glass over to Coop, who somehow caught it.

“Those are nice,” I said.

James carried on. “It’s what life's about, man. Striving. You have any plans, bud? You gotta have plans.”

“I make plans to go to work sometimes,” “Ahh, living for the man,” James said. “Living to punch that clock.”

“Keeps me living and drunk enough to live with you.”

James paid no mind, turning to Coop instead. “Would you indulge me with another drink?”

“Of course,” Coop said. “Now tell Kiel about these plans. It makes me happy to hear about them.”

“I’m going in to ask for that raise next week,” said James. “Did I tell you that?”

“You did.”

“I’m gonna stash some money away, we’re gonna save a shit ton of money on rent, and I’m gonna open up that greasy spoon restaurant, and ​live.”

“I heard you have a new roommate,” said Coop. “What’s he like?”

“Oh yeah,” said James. “You met him today?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“How was it?”

“He was alright. A little goofy,” I said.

“Goofy?”

“A little bit. He threw down five grand for rent and utilities and all that. Straight cash.”

James picked at his mustache. “Weird.”

“He’s probably just loaded.”

“If he was loaded, he wouldn’t be coming to ​live here.”

“He was dressed up neat and was driving a fresh Volks, so he’s probably rich.”

“I don’t know.”

“I gave him the lease papers.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“If this ruins my plans…”

Coop stepped in. “Let’s take a step back, boys.”

James looked around the shack like he was trying to find something. “Do you like it here, Coop?”

“I’m breathing,” Coop said.

“But is it good air?”

“Fresh as can be.”

“Do you get sick of it?”

“Sometimes.”

James finished his drink and set it down carefully before stumbling out the door.

“Shame,” Coop said. “I was just about to roll a joint.”

“Yeah,” I said. I finished my drink before speaking again. “How about a round next week?”

Coop finished the joint and sealed it. “You know the answer to that.”

“I’ll get you out there someday here.”

“I’m sure.” He passed me the joint. “Get some of that in James, he needs it.”

“You’re one of the good ones,” I said.

“You too, Kiel.”

“Light on?”

“I’ll be up for a while. Be safe now.”

“Thanks Coop.”

~ I found James seated against a tree off the beaten path on the fifteenth hole. He had made it a helluva lot farther than I expected. I sat down next to him and lit the joint and offered it.

He denied it at first but then quickly grabbed it and nursed it for more than a few hits.

He turned to me. “What if I never leave?”

“What do you mean?”

“I just turned twenty­three.”

“I know. We went out to Captain Jack’s and got shitty off of whiskey and Fireball shots.”

“Like high schoolers.”

“We’re not that old yet.”

“Quarter through life, mathematically.”

“Mathematics aren’t that big of a thing,” “It’s the only method we have of measuring factual evidence.”

“Bullshit.”

“Whatever.”

“I think Andy will turn out fine.”

“What if he doesn’t?”

“Why think like that?” “‘Cause it’s a possibility. I can’t keep being all stagnant and shit. I can’t keep being nothing.”

“You’ve been thinking about your mom again.”

James pulled his face from his hands. “Can you blame me?”

“She’s not here. She’s not around. She moved.”

“It still stings a lot when I lie awake at night and watch the ceiling fan spin around and think about all the things I was supposed to be by now.”

“Just keep on keepin’ on.”

“Be a little original, for God’s sake.” He punched me in the arm, but I got a small smile out of him. “What about your mom? How’s she?”

“I should visit.”

“Yeah, you should. She was nice.”

“Sometimes you need a little more than nice,” I said. “But maybe that’s just me. Let’s go to the fire.”

“I guess.” ~

Mary sat on Ace’s lap in front of a nice smolder while Mariah and Aubrey shared a bottle of wine atop the picnic table on our porch. There was music playing, a string of piano­led

summer anthems laced with the smoky scent of the rising flames set against the faded sky around us at all fronts. It was the type of scene that demanded a drink or two to be had.

“Was the shack fun?” Ace asked.

“It was the usual,” I said. James stumbled up the porch and got really handsy really fast with Mariah. Aubrey migrated down towards us. She took a seat in the yard chair next to me and gave me a smile.

Ace gave Mary a nudge of his nose into her neck and gestured her off. With a bottle of Jameson in one hand and a Solo cup in the other, he managed his way over to me without falling in the fire. I was impressed. It was damn near two in the morning, after all. “Have a drink.”

“Sure.” I took the drink. He gave one to Aubrey.

“So Kiel and I might have a little round with the owner of the resort, Jeff, coming up next week,” said Ace. “Nine with the boss, he might go eighteen if there’s enough time. You ready for that?”

Mary fixed herself a drink and reclaimed her spot on Ace’s lap. “Golf with the boss?

Ooh.” “Important shit is going on,” said Ace. Mary gave him a look.

“I mean ​stuff.”

“Daddy used to tell us that the benchmark for success is being able to call a round of golf ‘business.’”

“Your dad sounds like a fine man,” Ace said. “Had to be, considering his daughter.”

Mary sat still on his lap and kept her gaze on the percolating smolder. “He always told me that men with silver tongues are to be feared unless they have gold actions.”

“Well that’s a hell of a qualifier,” said Ace. “What’s your dad like?”

“Let’s not visit that just yet.” He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled his drink towards his lips with the other. “I’d rather you indulge me.”

“He also told me to be careful of guys who are wary of discussing their personal lives.”

The crowd around the fire was silent. James and Mariah had disappeared into the house and Aubrey remained laser­focused on the fire and how the flames arched over each other and emitted sparks into the sky that flamed out before they even had a chance to get above the treetops. Aubrey found a string of stars in the sky and traced them with her finger. “It looks like an eagle. Or maybe a lake.”

“I like a good lake,” said Ace. Aubrey’s shades were on and she showed no signs of looking away from the constellations. “Do you ever really ​look at one?”

“Just go to art school and get it over with already,” said Mary. Then she laughed, and it caught me off guard.

“Ick,” said Aubrey. “That has to be the most contradictory thing in the world. A school that teaches you about art.”

We indulged Aubrey’s desire to star gaze until Mary’s eyes fogged up and she leaned into Ace. “The wife of that man...the one from the other day, came in today,” Mary said. “Turns out they’ve been regulars at the resort for a while, but they hadn’t been here in five or so years.”

“A regular?”

“She ordered a single drink from me and met a couple friends who I think were also regulars. She kept her cool for most of the time. Or I mean, relatively cool being as her husband just died. I didn’t tell her that we saw it happen. I couldn’t. What do you say to someone in that situation? You can’t just be political about.”

“Heaven’s better than here,” said Aubrey. Mary nodded and then excused herself.

Aubrey watched her sister vanish toward the sixteenth fairway. “Well?”

Ace looked up from his drink. “What?”

“You’re an idiot. Go.” “You’re meaner than you put on,” said Ace. “Death sucks. Go,” said Aubrey.

Ace did so. Then it was just the two of us, Aubrey going on while I felt the warmth of my back mesh with the cool sheen of the lawn chair and make my drink taste all the more better.

“It especially sucks on nights where you can’t even see a star and be reminded how wide open this place is.”

“Yeah,” I said.

“My dad used to tell me that the only thing certain in life is death and taxes.”

“I don’t really pay attention to politics,” I said.

“I don’t blame you. It’s a cesspool.”

“A what?”

“Do you read?”

“Drink menus.”

Mary and Ace returned. “Kiel, do you mind if she puts on some softer tunes?”

I was too engrossed in the tingling in my toes and the warmth on my skin from the embers to really care either way.

A gentle piano tune wormed into my ear as Mary attached herself to Ace’s hip and hid her rosy cheeks in his jacket. Ace pulled away and offered a hand. “Shall we?”

Mary smiled. She said no words and took his hand.

I didn’t recognize the song, but Aubrey did. She was lip syncing the chorus. An electric piano swooned around the main piano. I liked the way it sounded in my yard with the murky skies panning overhead.

Ace led Mary back around to the fire and dipped her, quite elegantly, and brought her in close. He was good at what he did, I had to give him that.

Mary rested her chin on Ace’s chest. “Can we get a light out here, please?”

Ace looked at me. I went to turn the porch light on. Ace then led Mary into its boundaries. Aubrey and I watched them dance in the light. She wished me a good night and I told her she could take my bed. I wanted to stay outside a little while longer and figured it was only right to give her my bed. I liked the couch quite a bit, after all.

The song ended and another one followed. It was nothing but a humble melody and some acoustic guitar. Ace found the swing of it and rocked Mary gently in exact syncopation.

She kissed Ace, this time on the lips, but it was brief.

“Come here,” said Ace. He brought her in for another kiss. “We’re gonna grab the guest bunk,” he told me.

“Sure,” I said.

“Excuse me,” Mary said. “I took you as a gentleman, Jackson Hunt.”

He didn’t say a word because I imagine he couldn’t. The fire in Mary’s eyes matched the smolder in the pit. I felt awkward seeing it, but moving would have been even worse.

“I’m not one to impose,” she said, “but I believe the lady gets the bed.”

“It’s a queen­sized bed,” said Ace. “Perfect. Plenty of room to stretch out.”

“Right,” said Ace. She leaned in and kissed him on the cheek one last time and then she was gone.

“That was a swing and a miss,” I said.

“I’m confused.”

“Just go crash on the couch.”

“I want to sleep in the loft.”

“Take the couch.”

“I mean, it’s a nice couch,” said Ace. He poured himself yet another drink.

“You’re an ass, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Ace said. He took Aubrey’s chair and put his feet up. “Mary sure is pretty.

Really pretty. Like that classic pretty, you know? It never goes out of style.”

“Like the old movies,” I said.

“Like the old movies.”

We clicked glasses.

“Bar tomorrow,” he said. “Us and Josh.”

“Good. Rent’s coming up” “I think I’m gonna get a new wardrobe here pretty soon.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Maybe I’ll get a house, a big summer house, just like Mary’s cabin. A Gatsby house.”

“Yeah, and how did that story end?”

“Clever,” he said. “But that’s what I’m gonna do.”

“Well you better get going with that lawyer thing.”

“Not just the lawyer thing,” Ace said. “The Senate, the House, the Presidency. I’m gonna grab it all.”

“You drank quite a few Jameson’s tonight.”

“Damn right.”

“Go get some rest.”

“I like Mary.”

“It’s not a secret.”

“Can’t overplay my hand.”

“But that’s what you’re best at.”

“Not until recently, Kiel.”

“Go get some rest.”

“Fine,” Ace said. He dismissed himself.

I could see the sun, if just barely, creep up behind the silky skyline. The fire had finally dwindled to a weak flame. I reached into my wallet and pulled a wrinkled picture that had been

stuck behind my learner’s permit. The flames provided just enough light to make it out. It had been awhile since I last took a good peek at it.

Jonathan and I hadn’t spoken for a few years and the Polaroid made him seem younger than his age of sixteen when it was taken. I think I was twelve. I looked twelve. Mom was sitting next to us on the porch bench. It was a shitty porch and the house matched it. She looked sad. There was a pack of menthols next to her. She had put them down long enough for a picture.

I tossed the photo in the fire and walked inside.

Chapter 6

I was rather hungover Monday morning after a pair of grueling bar shifts the previous two nights nudged me into a Sunday night stupor with Ace that started at Captain Jack’s and ended with us passed out on the porch. The aroma of Mariah’s pancakes lured us into the kitchen. James had made mimosas. He seemed to be in a decent mood.

“A new week, an abundance of chances,” he said, dressed in freshly pressed chinos and a crew neck sweater. “Are you guys ready to answer the opportunities knocking?”

“I’m not even ready to drink this mimosa,” Ace said. He drank it anyway.

I asked him his plans for the day.

“We’re gonna meet this Andy kid,” he said, pulling Mariah in for a hug and kiss. “And then go check out some real estate in Hyanisport for my ventures.”

“Are you gonna close on a lot?”

“Not yet,” said James. “A couple years away from that. Need to get a scope though.”

“Sure, sure.”

Ace was gorging on his stack of pancakes and finished his mimosa. His eyes didn’t leave his phone.

“Something must be interesting if you’re not refilling your drinks right away,” I said.

His eyes stayed locked on the screen. “What?”

“Like a little puppy,” I said.

“Aww, Ace has got a crush,” Mariah said.

“That Mary is a tight one, it seems,” said James. He switched to coffee and sipped it nonchalantly.

“Nothing wrong with class,” Ace said.

“Class is just an ideology put in place by the system,” James said. “Oh, ​you have money?

You must be so much better than everybody else.”

Ace stretched out and relaxed in the chair. “It’s not like my family is poor.”

“Well when you’re around us, you’re different,” James said. “You’re Ace when you’re here. Like a chameleon.”

Ace looked himself up and down. “This is a two hundred dollar outfit.”

“Clothes don’t make the man, my dad used to tell me. Still does.”

James finished his coffee right as there was a knock on the door.

“I’ll grab it,” I said.

“Let me,” James said.

He opened the door and there was Andy, this time in some pastel shorts and a fancy sweater vest that somehow didn’t look as stupid as other sweater vests.

“H­hi,” Andy said. He dropped his bags to the ground in a hurry and reached out a hand to James. “Andy. Andy Adams.”

James looked at his hand and then his face. “Come in.”

Andy nodded and got his stuff in. “Full house, huh?”

“Yeah,” James said. He sat down at the rarely used dining table in the corner of the living room and pulled up a chair for Andy.

“Somebody better call Bob Saget,” Andy continued, taking the seat across from James.

Mariah laughed. I gave it a chuckle. Ace was too busy on his phone to have caught the joke.

James straightened up in his seat. “Jokester, huh?”

“I­I guess.”

“We need to talk. I’m James, just so you know.”

“N­nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, so, where are you from?”

“Florida,” Andy replied.

“What brings you all the way up the coast? And what part of Florida, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“About an hour from Tampa, smaller town. Kind of like this, but much louder.”

“Do you have those documents I asked you to have on move­in day?”

“Y­yeah,” Andy said. He rummaged through one of his bags and passed James a couple folders.

James opened the top one. “Birth certificate, good. Social Security card, good.”

He went to the next folder. Something about it caught Andy’s eye, and he hastily reached out and swiped it away. “Sorry, wrong folder.” He fetched another one from the bag.

“Interesting,” James said as he watched Andy stash the confiscated folder back in the bag.

“Just some private stuff, I apologize,” Andy said.

“What’s a little privacy among roommates?”

“James!” Mariah said.

James pulled out a smile real quick and nudged Andy on the shoulder. “Just kidding, buddy.”

“It’s not related to living here, I promise.”

“Fair enough,” James said. He stood up. “My dad raised me to place a premium on honesty. So I was just curious if you could provide me with some honesty,” he went on. “I’ll start: my middle name is Francis. It’s not a particularly nice middle name, and I’d rather not share it, but I did. James Francis Fitzpatrick. It’s not a great name, but it’s my honest­to­God name.”

“Thought you didn’t believe in God,” said Ace. “I don’t,” said James. “Figure of speech. But no, here’s another opportunity for honesty.” He paused for a second and asked Mariah for another mimosa and then if she could drive to Hyanisport. She rolled her eyes and poured the mimosa.

“I have no reason to believe in some long­haired dude in a bed sheet and sandals who actually was okay with dying on a cross,” said James. “But the sandals are the most unforgivable apart.”

“Clothes don’t make the man,” Ace said with a grin. His phone buzzed and he vanished into the loft.

“So,” James said, turning back to Andy. “How does a twenty­year­old kid from Florida throw down five grand in cash for rent when the majority of his peers struggle to make rent each and every month?”

“Savings,” Andy replied. “I worked a bit in high school.”

“So this is legal money.”

“I think all money is legal unless it’s counterfeit,” Andy said.

“Are you saying it’s counterfeit?”

“N­no, not at all.”

“Jokester.”

“I’m sorry.”

James finished his drink. “Listen Andy,” he said. “I’ve got some goals and some things I’m trying to line up.”

“I understand,” Andy said.

James gestured Mariah over. “Let’s go, honey.”

They went out the door. I let the dust settle.

“Sorry about that,” I said. “He can get a little wound up.”

“It’s okay,” Andy said. “I guess giving you all that money right away wasn’t the least suspicious thing in the world. I just wanted to make a good first impression.”

“Don’t worry, he’s harmless, I promise.”

“And that other guy?”

I looked up to the loft. Ace was leaning over the balcony, phone glued to his ear. “He’s an ass, but in a completely different way.”

“How so?”

“You’ll just have to meet him. What are your plans for the day?”

“Nothing. I don’t know anybody here,” he said.

“Well, you will,” I said. “We’re planning a big party for this weekend. We have a blowout here the same weekend every year. It’s great.”

Andy looked around the house. “A blowout, in here?”

“Mostly outside,” Ace said. He descended the staircase and outstretched his hand. Andy shook it. “I’m Ace.” “Nice to meet you.”

“But, yeah,” said Ace. “We got a nice sized yard and the sixteenth hole fairway gives a little buffer.”

“But what about the neighbors?”

“Most of them aren’t up here until June, but the ones that are usually make their way over and partake.”

“And the cops?”

Ace and I laughed.

“Cops are regulars in the Lounge. We slip them some drinks now and then, play buddy­buddy with them, and they don’t care,” Ace replied.

“That sounds like bribery,” Andy said.

“Just a mutual understanding,” said Ace. “You’re Andy, right?”

“Y­yes.”

“Okay, so you’re taking over my spot?”

Andy looked at me. “What?”

“He’s bullshitting,” I said. “He’s spent so much time up in the loft over the years that he might as well have been paying rent.”

“He’s not wrong,” said Ace. He poured himself a mimosa and saw there was enough champagne left for one more. “Andy?”

“It’s noon,” he said.

“That’s why we’re making mimosas.”

“I’m fine, thank you.”

Ace nodded and poured one for me. We stood around the island.

“So,” Ace said. “Where are you from?”

“Florida.”

“Bucs or Dolphins?”

“Jaguars. I like their uniforms,” Andy replied. “And I liked Maurice Jones­Drew. He was cool.”

“M.J.D was cool, cheers to him,” Ace said. He clicked glasses with me. “Why Mansard Point then?”

“It’s a little quieter,” Andy said.

“It gets loud around here.”

“The population is a fraction of my hometown,” said Andy. “There were Wal­Marts and car dealerships and urbanization everywhere. It was ​loud.”

“There’s different types of loud,” Ace said.

“Anything was gonna be better than where I was,” said Andy.

“Fair enough. What are you gonna do?”

“I think school,” said Andy. “Maybe something like that.”

“Good man,” said Ace. “​Somebody here should be going to school.”

“Aren’t you going back this fall?” I asked.

“Been mulling my options. Time away might do me good,” Ace replied.

“Fair,” I said.

I rolled a joint from my stash and ushered Ace to the couch. It was big enough to fit three guys without it being weird, so I invited Andy. He took a seat on one of the island chairs instead.

“What are you projecting this weekend?” I asked Ace. “Hundred people?”

“Well Mary wanted some of her college girlfriends to come up this weekend, so I’m gonna wait on that,” Ace said.

“Already at that stage?”

“What stage?”

“Where she gets a plus­twenty.”

“Gorgeous Tier 1 college girls,” said Ace. He pulled a French inhale. “Never complain about that. Not gonna sleep until all of y’all get some nookie.”

“Don’t go cavalier this weekend,” I said.

Ace was resilient. “Andy, you a fan of those college girls?”

“I’m a virgin,” Andy said. “I had a girlfriend once, but it didn’t work out.”

“How old are you?” Ace asked.

“Twenty­one this summer.”

“I got you,” Ace said. “I got the keys to the proverbial panties of this town.”

“Metaphors are great,” Andy said. “One of my favorite literary devices.”

“I could fill up a few books,” said Ace. “But no, we’ll get that out of the way for you soon enough,” he said to Andy. “Every year, I throw this lavish gala at my house when my parents head to Santa Clara for the summer, filled with catered grub and fancy attire and good conversation. It’s like my very own Gatsby party.”

“As great as that literary reference is,” said Andy. “​Out of the way is an awful bad way to describe something like losing your virginity,” Andy said.

“Not usually the case,” Ace said. “It’s kind of like your first beer. Special, but it’s not the best beer you’ll ever have.”

“Metaphors,” Andy said. He smiled.

“I guess I do like using them,” Ace said.

“We should golf today,” I said. “Do you golf, Andy?”

“I’ve played a few rounds.”

“What’s your handicap?” Ace asked.

“Haven’t really ever kept score.”

“Okay, Ty Webb,” said Ace. “​Caddyshack reference,” Andy said. “Can’t get those past me.”

“This kid’s alright,” Ace said.

I called the resort and asked for a tee time. Both courses were booked solid.

“Well, I’ve got an itch for golf,” I said. “I bet Coop can take us out to the old course.”

“I’m buzzed enough,” said Ace. “Think he’d play with us?”

“We can ask,” I said. “You have clubs, Andy?”

“I didn’t bring any.”

“Coop will have a set. Are you a righty?” I said.

“Yes.” “Sweet. Let’s go,” I said. I had the itch to get outside. Sometimes my itches get the best of me.

Andy stood up in a hurry and brought his stuff upstairs, returning just as fast. “Wh­where are we going?”

“The old course. Let me call Coop,” I said.

“Who’s Coop?”

“You’ll like him, I’d imagine,” said Ace. I told Coop we were going to meet him at the old course and requested he bring a few righty clubs. Coop had Mondays off, so I knew he would be there. He gladly obliged.

“Alright, we’re good,” I said.

Ace slid a cigarette in his mouth and found his keys in the couch cushions. “You mind if I smoke, Andy?”

“Go ahead,” he said.

“You want one?”

“No thank you.”

“Cool, let’s bounce.”

~ Mansard Point Resort hit a rare financial crisis in the 1980s and was forced to cut the funding of the ​Ye Old Mansard Point Links in favor of the course they had just built—the course we had been living on—and a few regulars took their business elsewhere ‘cause of the decision.

I wasn’t around then, but I can imagine being mad, too. The old course had a nice and warm feeling to it and Coop had been volunteering to keep a few holes up to snuff for us throughout the years.

I rode next to him in a golf cart. The path was weathered and dried of color. “I figured that the ninth, tenth, and eleventh would be a good trio to maintain this year,” Coop said.

Ace and Andy sat in a golf cart next to us. We looked out on the ninth hole: a daunting par­3 with a grassy chasm standing between the tee box and kidney bean­shaped green. It wasn’t a beautiful hole by any means, but it was mostly forgotten and felt as if it was in its own dimension.

“Ninth always gave me trouble when you shaped it up a few summers ago,” I said.

“It was one of my favorites,” Coop said.

“Maybe a seven­iron?”

“Not a player, don’t consult me.”

“Don’t let such shit come out of your mouth again,” said Ace. He had another cigarette between his lips, fishing out an iron from his shiny bag. “I bet you could still break par from the blues.”

“Maybe break eighty from the whites with some whiskey and coke in me.”

“Ooh, coke,” said Ace. “Think we should get some for Saturday?”

“James would freak if coke was in or anywhere near the house,” I said.

“He ruins all the fun,” Ace said.

“He’s just trying to build something, cut him some slack,” said Coop. “It would be nice to see somebody get out of here every now and then.”

“He damn near interrogated Andy today,” I said, finally deciding on the seven iron.

“Over what?” Coop asked.

“Paranoia, maybe,” I replied. “It sure is sad to see him like this.”

“Live and let live,” Coop said. “Andy, let me see this swing. I’ve gotten used to these hacks.”

“Hey, fuck you, Coop,” said Ace. “Right back atcha,” Coop said. “Can I get a cigarette?”

“If you take a swing.”

“Don’t be like that,” Coop said.

Ace gave him a cigarette.

I lined up my shot and took a belligerent cut at it. The ball landed far over and to the right of the green. “Shit.”

“I need to find a new scramble partner,” said Ace. “Up yours.”

Ace put his shot near the green. He had a knack of being, at the very least, passable in everything he did. “Andy, all you.”

Andy grabbed a weathered bladed iron from Coop’s old bag.

“Better make those clubs proud,” said Coop. “They’ve seen quite a few things.”

“Th­thanks Mr. Stockton,” he said, teeing up his ball just above the grass.

“Call me Coop,” he said.

Andy nodded, squared his shoulders, and took a swing. It was a short and compact swing. The ball landed a few feet from the flag.

“Nice,” I said.

“Alright,” Ace said. “You hustling us?”

“What do you mean?” Andy said.

“Never mind,” said Ace. “Nice shot. Putting is where you make the money though.”

“I wasn’t aware we were playing for money,” said Andy.

“Let’s go play it out,” said Ace. He gestured Andy into the passenger seat of the golf cart before flooring the gas pedal and taking off towards the green.

“Ace doesn’t like it when he gets beat,” I said.

“Neither do I,” said Coop. “It sure does suck.”

We clicked our plastic cups and followed Andy and Ace. ~ “I’m getting too old for this,” said Coop. He sipped his drink and pulled his shades over his eyes as the sun crept over the trees surrounding the eleventh hole like a fishbowl.

“Relaxin’ and drinking,” said Ace. “Tough life.”

“There’s not a lot to it,” said Coop. “Sometimes a man needs more.”

The three of us were lining up our putts. Andy had us smoked through the first two holes.

“Relax,” said Ace.

“Duly noted,” said Coop.

Andy missed a long putt for birdie and sunk the tap­in for par.

“Drinks,” said Ace. “I could use one. Or five.”

“You can’t possibly drive,” said Coop.

“Andy can,” said Ace. “Right?”

Andy nodded, polishing off Coop’s clubs before placing them on his cart. “Thank you Coop.”

“No need,” he said. “You did the sticks justice. You should play in the tournaments.

There’s a lot of them.”

“I don’t like large crowds,” said Andy.

“You’re in the wrong town,” said Coop. ~ We ended up at The Lounge because that’s where Ace said he wanted to eat. It wasn’t a surprise that Mary was on the clock. We requested her section but there was no vacancy. We were sat in Aubrey’s.

“Hi,” she said, moving gently and smoothly around the table and making direct eye contact with each of us. She got to Andy, who looked away. “Who’s this?”

“Andy,” Ace said. “Hell of a golfer. And he drives a nice car.”

“Intriguing,” said Aubrey. Her eyes softened and she stretched out her hand. There was a glisten in her hazel eyes that I hadn’t seen yet before, and when Andy finally looked back at her and shook her hand it was as if a jolt of something had perked up her entire being. “I’m Aubrey,” she said.

“H­hi,” said Andy. He gripped her hand.

“What can I get for you?”

“Uh, do you guys have chocolate milk?”

“Depends on how chocolatey you want it,” she said, her pen tip twiddling in her lips as she twirled her hair.

“Very,” said Andy.

“I can do that.” She turned to Ace and I. “And you boys?”

“Usual,” Ace said.

“I just started,” said Aubrey. “So either clarify or I’m getting you a Cosmo.”

“Maybe just a T&T.” “Awesome,” she said. “Kiel?”

“That sounds good too,” I said. “Can you throw some curds and buffalo wings down too?”

“You got it.”

Aubrey gave us all a grin and then left. We waited until she was out of earshot.

Ace removed his golf hat and rubbed his eyes. “Chocolate milk? Really?”

“I’m not of age,” Andy said.

“Pro tip: get a soda if it’s a pretty girl waiting on you. You’re not ten.”

“Chocolate milk is good,” Andy said. He was looking around and wasn’t being the least bit discreet. First it was the boats in the marina pier just down the shore and then it was the Mansard Belle riverboat that took tours across the lake, and then it was Mary’s bustling section, packed to the brim with people and cigarette smoke.

“I heard that Fowler is gonna be able to make the US Open,” Ace said, rolling his fingers on the table and tapping his feet at damn near light speed.

“I like Fowler,” I said. “What is up with you?”

“Whatya mean?” asked Ace. “You’re rather antsy.”

“Need a cig,” said Ace. “So smoke a damn cig.”

“Mary doesn’t like it,” he said.

“How are the welts from the whip?”

“Good one,” said Ace. Aubrey came and delivered our drinks. Andy’s chocolate milk was the shade of a Hershey bar. “We need more time?” she asked.

“Turkey bacon club,” said Ace. “Fries, extra mayo.”

“Same,” I said, realizing I had little very concern over what my meal would be after a sip of the T&T. Aubrey made some chicken scratches on her notepad and floated over to Andy.

“I honestly don’t know,” he said.

“Club,” Ace said, guzzling his drink. “Get him the club. It’s on me anyways.”

Aubrey rested her hand on Andy’s shoulder.

“Turkey Bacon Club,” Andy said.

“Fries?”

“P­please.”

“Coming up.”

And then she was gone again.

Ace reclined in his chair and pulled some Ray Bans over his eyes. “What do you like, Andy?”

“A lot of stuff,” he said. His eyes lit up when the first swig of chocolate milk hit his lips.

“I guess everything.”

“You can’t like ​everything,” said Ace. “Says who?”

“Alright then, what do you like the most?”

“Not sure,” Andy said. “Right now it’s this chocolate milk.”

“You like golf, that’s established,” Ace said.

“It’s somewhere on the list, I guess.”

“Well, do you party?”

“Define party,” said Andy.

“Loud music. Intoxication. Women,” Ace said. “Sometimes some drugs, it depends.”

“Just like the movies,” Andy said. He was staring at a pontoon boat drifting into the docking area. I swear I could taste the water. The aroma of it was awfully strong and I wondered if Andy could smell it too.

Ace nodded and sat forward. “So you like movies?”

“I like stories,” he said. “Stories are cool.”

“What’s your favorite?”

“I don’t think I could pick.”

“Sure you could,” Ace said. “This is a gentlemen’s discussion. We won’t rag on you if you don’t say ​The Departed.”

“I just can’t pinpoint a favorite,” he said. “Too much to think about.”

“I thought you liked thinking,” said Ace. “Not ​that type of thinking,” said Andy.

“Fair,” Ace said. “Kiel, what’s your favorite movie?” “​The Departed,” I said in complete and utter bliss as the T&T soaked up in my stomach.

“You’re damn right,” Ace said. Aubrey passed us by and asked if we wanted refills.

Both Ace and I requested another T&T. It was a damn good night for T&T’s, after all. ~ The meal was good. I could tell Andy had taken a liking to the turkey bacon club because he scarfed it in half the time it took Ace and I. “I found a new place last summer,” Ace said. “Did I tell you?”

“Literally five minutes ago,” I said.

“We have to go,” Ace said. “It’s not far. Andy, can you drive?”

Andy nodded.

“Fine, let’s go,” I said.

We filed up the wooden staircase to the parking lot. When we got to Ace’s car, I caught a view of Andy leaning up against a bannister as Aubrey talked to him.

“Hurry your ass up,” Ace shouted. Then he almost fell over, righting himself in the nick of time.

Aubrey put an index finger up and then jotted a note on something. She gave it to Andy and waved to us before heading down to the deck.

“What was that?” Ace asked.

“I­I don’t know, really,” Andy said. I could hear the metronome of his heartbeat damn near thrash at the inner wall of his chest.

“What she give you?” I asked.

“Just a number,” Andy said.

“Whoa,” Ace said. “She’s cute. She’s three years younger than me, but she’s cute.”

“Yeah,” Andy said. He folded the paper up and slid it in his pocket.

“So,” said Ace. “Were there any pretenses?”

“Pretenses?”

“Like...does she want ​it?”

“I don’t know,” Andy said, his voice soft as he watched Ace use his vehicle as a full­body kickstand. “She just told me to call her if I’m free.”

“It’s America,” Ace said. Then he started bellowing, “We’ve BEEN FREE SINCE 1776!”

“Let’s get him out of here,” I said. ~~ Ace struggled to stay on his two feet while tossing stones into the lake from the dock. It was almost dark but there was just a bit of twilight left. Andy and I sat with our toes in the water.

“Ain’t this great,” said Ace. “We need a pool at the Bixby House.”

“Sure, pass me twenty grand,” I said. “​Like I’ve got that much dough,” said Ace. He was trying to skip the rocks and it just wasn’t working out for him.

“It’s doable,” I said. “The money’s been good.”

Andy spoke for the first time since we arrived at the spot. “You bartend?”

“We do,” I said. “Four, five nights a week. It gets real tuned up.”

“Money’s good, then?” Andy said.

“Money’s fucking great,” interjected Ace. I had to stop him. “What lake are we at again?”

“Strawberry.” Ace grinned with pride, but I could barely see it through the settling night hues. “It’s a new spot I’ve kept secret until now, and it’s because I love you guys. Kiel, can you grab me a beer from the trunk?”

“Sure.” It was the last beer in the trunk. We had killed a case between the two of us throughout the day. And then there were the three T&T’s at The Lounge. I had been drunker.

“How’s Mary been today?” I asked.

“Oh she’s just peachy,” Ace said. “Haven’t talked much. She wants to come over after work maybe.”

“To ​your house,” I said.

“We can’t,” said Ace. “We’re not at that stage yet, Kiel. Just the two of us would be weird. And the old man is still milling around for a bit before he goes west for the summer.”

“I had no idea my house was your social center,” I said.

“Comes with the territory. Maybe she can bring a friend for you.”

“I know everybody here,” I said. “And unfortunately, slept with a lot of ‘em too.”

“You’ve had highs,” Ace said. “But you’ve also had ​lows.”

“Don’t act like you haven’t had ​lows,” I said.

Andy pulled his feet from the water. “What are you two talking about, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“Sometimes she’s a ten, sometimes she’s a four,” said Ace. “Ace knows quite a bit about the second kind,” I said.

“Look at who’s been taking up all my texts,” said Ace. “Prettiest damn girl in this resort.”

“Mary is nice,” I said. “She’s gonna wipe the floor with you if you keep acting like a college freshman.”

“I was a ​senior, and I certainly won’t act beneath that,” he said. He was lying on his back, staring through his shades up into the atmosphere.

“Where did you graduate?” asked Andy.

Ace lit a cigarette with a match, letting it combust at his side. “I didn’t. I was 30 credits from my pre­law. Two semesters.”

“What happened?”

“Kicked me out,” said Ace. “Got a little too cozy with JD and MJ, if you know what I mean.

“I don’t,” said Andy.

“Maybe one day you will.”

“I don’t know,” said Andy.

“Lots of stuff out there that will give you some grief if you’re not dialed in.”

“I see,” said Andy. “Are you going back?”

“Maybe,” said Ace. “I sure do like it here.”

“Cheers,” I said, lifting what was left of my beer to meet Ace’s.

A seagull flew overhead and a few more followed. They squawked mercilessly as their silhouettes traced the clouds. Strawberry Lake was quiet and it gave me further confidence in Ace’s instincts. He was one of the good ones.

“Hey guys,” said Ace. “Yeah?” we both replied.

“I think it’s going to be quite the summer. It’s our year.”

“Cheers,” I said.

“September won’t ever be here,” said Ace. “How many days is one hundred and five?

Practically an endless loop. We’ll be here forever.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“Should we go?” Andy asked.

“There’s no rush,” said Ace. “I like the way my stomach feels right now and I like the way the water smells.”

“It’s nice,” I said.

“We could swim across the lake,” Ace said. “I’ve done it.”

“Not tonight,” I said.

“Well shit,” Ace said.

We all sat on the dock until it was time to go home. When I woke up the next morning, I didn’t remember what time we got home, but I saw Andy at the kitchen island reading a book and drinking some coffee. It was a quiet scene and I went back to bed after seeing it.

Chapter 7

The night of our party had arrived and I had taken all the precautions needed to ensure a good experience. Variety of drinks: check. Weed stash hidden: check. Tiki torches in the backyard: check. Guest list: check.

Ace had started his binger at 9 a.m. that morning and it showed. By the time 10 p.m. rolled around and the majority of people had showed up, he was parading around an equally­intoxicated Mary and introducing her to people two or three times over. She was drunk enough to not care but sober enough to still notice. I could tell Mary was kind of bothered every time Ace dropped a “Have you met this beautiful friend of mine?” line, but her sundress did nothing to ward off attention. She looked real fine, I have to say.

The yard was packed with our circle from Mansard Point: a few regulars, coworkers, buddies from the area, and some random stragglers. I noticed brothers Tommy and Donny Van Vickle making their way into the fray from the driveway. They were twins.

“Kiel,” said Tommy. He was older than Donny by thirty minutes and nothing short of a genius when it came to IQ. You could say he struggled with other things. “What’s happening tonight?”

“Opener,” I said. He should have known. He had been to the previous three.

“Donny,” I said. “How’s the U?” “I’m there,” Donny said. “Bachelors in a couple years if I steer clear.”

“Lighten up, Donny,” said Tommy. “Grab a drink, school’s out.”

“Sure,” said Donny. “If I don’t, he’ll give me hell all night.” He nudged me adieu and went over next to his brother.

I saw James, dressed up in a nice pressed shirt tucked into chinos with Polo shoes,

nursing a glass of gin with his dad on the porch. “Mister Fitzpatrick.”

“Kiel.” He put out his cigarette and gave me a shake. Frazzled hair slithered out of his weathered ball cap and his eyes were much more charismatic than the rest of his face. “Ten God damned years and you got the nerve to call me ‘mister’?”

“I see you still get frisky when you drink whiskey,” I said.

“What else is there to do?”

“Cheers to that,” I said. “Can I get you anything, Chris?”

“Wanna know what sounds real nice? A juicy ol’ roach. Or something with weed in it.”

“Sure,” I said. “Can you roll it?”

“I mean,” James said.

“Fine,” I said. “I’ll twist it up for ya.”

I went to my room to grab my stash and up to the loft for the papers, but I stopped when I saw Aubrey and Andy sitting on his bed with the old tube television screen broadcasting some sort of classic cartoon.

“Knock knock,” I said.

Andy sat up immediately. “K­Kiel. What’s going on?”

“Need to grab something.”

Aubrey looked away from the show. “How’s the party?”

“Exactly how you’d expect it to be,” I said.

“Not too much experience out there. And, I like this,” said Aubrey. She brushed her hand across Andy’s knee and he shuddered like a puppy in a shock color.

“Get out there for at least a bit. You too, Andy.”

“In a minute,” said Andy. “This episode is almost over.”

“Maybe one more after this one,” said Aubrey. “Sounds kinda loud out there.”

“That’s the point,” I said.

“One more episode,” said Aubrey. She cradled her head on Andy’s shoulder. He looked like a toddler lost in a supermarket.

I grabbed the papers and rolled a nice joint for the Fitzpatricks before returning to the back yard. The majority of our work circle was in attendance, and even a couple of off­duty cops. One even partook in the joint with Chris and James. There was really nice music coming out of the stereo. I had to give it to James, he had good taste in music, even if it was stuffy sometimes. The girls were dancing slowly out on the sixteenth and the guys were either leading them or burning cigarettes near the fence while they traded fishing stories. I found Tommy Van Vickle and shared a drink with him. He wanted a Jack and Coke, so I got us a pair.

“What do you know lately?” I asked him.

“Not too much, Kiel,” he replied. “Not a whole fucking lot. Life is going on. Daughter is doing well. Making a little on the side,” he said.

“Where you been?”

“Huh?” “You used to come around every night only a few months ago.”

“Just doing a little extra work, trying to keep up on the child support.”

“Damn women,” I said.

We clicked glasses. I noticed a smooth guitar in the song currently playing and the charm of it intensified when I looked at the ice cubes sloshing back and forth amidst the concoction in my glass. “You gotta get to school,” I said. “This next fall, right?”

“Soon,” he said.

“You’ve been saying that for five years.” I said. “​Soon is relative,” he said.

“You’re smart as shit,” I said.

“Soon,” he said. “I got plans. And hey, I don’t see you in school. You’re doing alright.”

“I didn’t get a perfect score on the ACT,” I said.

“Scores are a fraction of life,” Tommy said. “I got a perfect score in drinking and women, too. What does it matter?”

“You also hit .425 your senior year,” I said. “Go play school ball.”

“Too late,” he said. “And I lost that scholarship, remember? Fucking pot ticket.”

“Well damn,” I said. I poured out some of my drink. “Shitty.”

“Should we go find some girls, Kiel?”

“I think I can handle that.”

We finished our drinks, found some girls from The Lounge, and danced with them. It was a hip­hop song all of a sudden, I think that really catchy one called “Lifestyle,” and Tommy

was taking full advantage of the bumping beat, if you know what I mean. Ace was doing the same with Mary and she didn’t stop him until his pelvis was making its way up her dress. She put a stop to it, but they kept dancing. Andy and Aubrey had yet to show, and in my drunken thoughts I was kind of sad that they weren’t there to join us. James—who always hated hip­hop music—even found his way onto the yard with Mariah. She looked nice. All the girls did with the amount I had sipped.

“Play ‘FREE BIRD’,” Tommy shouted. “Damnit I need some ‘FREE BIRD’.” “‘SIMPLE MAN’,” I shouted. “‘Piano Man’?” said a voice behind me. It was Andy. There was a glass in his hand.

“You drinking?”

“Found myself a gin and juice.”

“You Snoop Dog now?”

“Trying.” He laughed and gave me a pat on the shoulder before meandering around the crowd. He looked scared as fuck and lost.

I resumed my request for “Simple Man” and Chris finally nodded at me from the porch and put it on. I grabbed Tommy and another round of drinks and we took a breather to the tune of Lynyrd Skynyrd. ~ “He’s a weird one,” said Ace, who was quite noticeably drunk. We were filling up our drinks from the secret supply I had stashed in case we ran out of booze. It was 12:30 a.m. and we had been out of booze for nearly an hour. A big part of the crowd had left when the booze

dried out. Ace and I usually spent this time of the evening staring out the window at our drunk peers attempting to stumble home. Their intoxicated pride rendered sober rides useless.

“Who’s weird?”

“Andy, he’s a weird one. He’s cool, I guess, but he’s weird.”

I looked out at the backyard and saw Andy with a glass, sitting at a table beneath a tiki torch with Aubrey and Mary. “Looks fine to me.”

“He didn’t really talk, dance, or drink. That’s his same cup. He’s still on his first drink!”

“Better than being on your twentieth,” I said to him.

“Twenty­first,” Ace said, pouring himself some whiskey.

“Maybe he doesn’t like to party, I don’t know,” I said. “Let’s just go sing to ‘Simple Man’ again and pass out on the couch.”

“I need a cigar,” Ace said, fumbling around in his pockets.

“In front of Mary?”

“Cigars are okay, cigarettes are another story.”

I looked outside again. Andy had disappeared from his seat. There were maybe fifteen people hanging around.

“Let’s have a joint later or something, I need to take a breather,” I said.

“Pansy,” Ace said. “Come smoke this cigar with me.”

“I haven’t smoked a cigar in years.”

“Then end the streak,” he said. He produced a cigar box from his jacket pocket. It was of oak and smelled crisp. Ace opened the box to reveal a fat, finely rolled cigar. “Cuba, baby.”

“Fuck the embargo,” I said, giving him a glass click.

“Fuck the embargo.”

We went outside and around to the west end of the house where a tall birch tree rose above the roof. There was a branch about fifteen feet up that could support two, sometimes three of us. I ascended after Ace. Andy was already sitting there, his same glass in hand.

Ace found his seat on the innermost part of the branch, leaning against the trunk. “Who told you about this spot?”

“Just kinda found it,” said Andy.

“Smart kid,” said Ace. “Smart, smart kid. But are you smart enough to take a cigar when it’s passed to you by Jackson Hunt?”

“Sure,” said Andy. His glass looked rather full to me. Either he had refilled it at some point or not touched it yet.

“Gin and juice?” I asked.

“Second one. I like them,” Andy said. “Makes my stomach warm. Makes the moon look kind of cool.”

“It does,” I said, giving him a glass click. They were going around that night.

“I read something on the internet earlier today,” said Ace. “What was that?” I asked.

“People actually think the moon landing was faked,” Ace said. He got a nice cherry going on the cigar and passed it my way.

“Maybe it was,” said Andy.

Ace scoffed. “You can’t believe that. Just like you can’t believe that 9­11 was a conspiracy. You’d be a fucking fool.”

“I think anybody who thinks they know for sure is a fool,” said Andy. “Plus it’s better when you don’t know ​for sure.”

I sat quietly and passed the cigar to Andy. The smoke filtered upwards through the branches and some of it finally reached the sky above. I could barely make out the moon between the branches and the slippery guitar licks funneling through the speaker. The tiki torches were just about to go out.

“Maybe,” said Ace. “But you can’t actually think that a country as great as us could fake such a monumental thing.”

“I can think whatever,” said Andy. “If I can think it, it’s a possibility, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” said Ace. He nursed the cigar for a bit. “If I suddenly think I can grow wings, I’ll fly up to the stratosphere and give tongue to Mother Nature’s pleasure button.”

“Okay, maybe not ​that,” said Andy. He took a few sips of his drink and relaxed a little.

“But I just think that we don’t think enough.”

“Thinking overtly is bad,” said Ace. “You give something enough time to let your gut decide and go with that. It’s what a man does.”

“Maybe,” said Andy. “Can I take another puff of that cigar?”

“If you admit the moon landing wasn’t faked,” said Ace. “Clever,” said Andy. “Fascism?”

“Capitalism. I got the leverage. I’m the one percent.”

“Okay,” I said. “Enough politics.”

“This is America,” said Ace. “Land of the free.”

“You’re a regular ol’ Son of Liberty,” said Andy.

Ace sang the Sons of Liberty song and it was way off key. Mary appeared beneath the tree. “Are you free enough to come warm me up, Mister Hunt?”

“Why, my fair lady,” said Ace. He passed me the cigar and let himself hang from the branch before dropping to his feet. He barely struck the landing but gained his footing and reeled Mary in with one fell swoop. “Of course I am for a dame such as yourself.” He kissed her squarely on the lips and teetered backwards in delight.

“Where’s Aubrey?” I asked Andy.

“She just went home,” he said. “She doesn’t really like loud parties.”

“Weird,” I said.

“I guess I share the sentiment,” Andy said.

“You two getting along?”

“She’s cool,” he said, really giving the cigar a ride.

“Alright,” I said. “I think I’m gonna get some sleep.”

Chapter 8

“The sun is just so great,” said Mary, reclining on Ace’s shirtless torso. He had a drink in his hand and sunglasses covering his face.

“Where’s the boat?”

“I just want to relax here today,” said Mary.

“Works for me,” said Ace. He tipped his head back and ran his fingers through her hair.

I sat in my own lawn chair, peering out at Mansard Lake from the Anne cabin’s porch. Aubrey and Andy sat next to each other, staring off into space through sunglasses.

“How do you guys feel about pizza?” Aubrey asked, removing her shades and rubbing her bloodshot eyes.

“Did the three­course breakfast not satisfy you?” Mary asked.

“It’s been forever since then, ya know,” she said.

“Two hours,” Mary said.

“Case in point,” said Aubrey. She leaned over and rested her head on Andy’s shoulder.

His body jolted and he looked around frantically before pulling his shades off.

“Hm?” “Andy,” she said. “Does pizza scare you that much?”

“Only with anchovies,” he replied.

“Cute,” said Aubrey. “Do you want some?”

“That sounds like a lot of trouble,” said Andy. “Please don’t.”

“It’s just the click of a few buttons,” said Aubrey as she looked at her phone.

“Okay, just let me know what the total is,” said Andy.

“Stop,” said Aubrey. “My treat.”

“Oh that’s quite—that’s quite alright,” said Andy. “I don’t want to put you out.”

“Seriously dude,” Aubrey said. She gazed at him, smiling with her whole face. “It’s alright.”

That seemed to do it for Andy. He settled back into his chair.

“So you really have this place all to yourself?” I asked.

“Yeah,” said Mary. “Dad got it for us to use during the summer quite a few years back.”

“You said he was a broker,” said Ace. “He must be moving around a lot?”

“I get dizzy keeping track,” said Mary.

“Yeah,” said Aubrey. “What do your parents do, Andy?”

“Lots, lots of things,” Andy replied. “Business. Dad owns a business.”

“Oh cool,” said Aubrey. “What kind of a business?”

“All kinds,” said Andy. “Stuff that's big in Florida. Orange juice. And golf courses.”

“Two of my favorite things,” said Ace. “Some vodka would make for a perfect brunch trio.”

“Uh, I think my phone is ringing,” said Andy.

“I don’t hear it,” said Aubrey.

“It’s on silent maybe,” he said, standing up and stumbling towards the French doors leading inside.

“Weird,” said Ace. “Cute,” said Aubrey. “But kind of weird.”

“Yeah,” said Ace. “Can I get some of that pizza?”

“If you grab me a drink,” said Aubrey. ~ I sat in front of Ace's well after my corner bar shift had come to a close. The night's entertainment—a 70s rock cover band—were dismantling their setup on the deck as patrons poured inside to snag drinks from the main bar. I scored a seat in the corner and sipped a nice gin while thumbing my bills beneath the cover of the bar. 370 bucks; not awful.

Ace floated over to me when the chance arose, wiping sweat from his brow and leaning in so I could hear him above the din of the jukebox and over two hundred drunk vacationers.

“Don't you got somewhere to be?”

“You're my ride,” I said.

“You need to get your license already,” he said.

“You need to get your own house already,” I said.

He stepped back. “Alright, fair enough. I'll probably be off around one. Josh agreed to

let me fly when this place thins out a bit.”

I stole a glance at Josh, looming over the customers with a forced smile and robotic movements.

“I think I can kill two hours," I said. "But I'll need one more drink.”

Ace didn't even wait for my request, instead plopping a beer down in front of me and making his way towards a growing line of drunk twenty­something girls begging for vodka­Red Bulls and Jag Bombs. I heard at least one of them ask what Ace's plans were for after his shift.

He blatantly ignored the question.

A kid my age came to my side, tipping his golf hat and stretching his bright blue eyes towards the cooler of beers behind the bar. “Hey buddy,” he said. I didn't recognize him.

“What's up?” I said.

“Oh, forgive me,” he said, removing his cap to reveal a messy crop of thick blond hair.

He was tall and lean, dressed in top­of­the­line golf apparel including. He had his hat on backwards and somehow made such a thing seem classier than it was. “You served me at the corner bar a few times tonight, made me some wonderful T&Ts. I'm Jordan.” He gave me a firm handshake. “This is my first night at this place, I've heard a lot about it. Just figured I'd tell you the service is great. Do you think I'd be able to pass along a comment or two to your manager?”

“Oh, sure,” I said. “That's not necessary, though. Compliments on the drinks will do just fine.”

“No need to be modest,” he said.

I offered my hand. “I'm Kiel.”

He shook it firmly. “Kiel—cool name, my friend,” he said. “But yeah, I busted my ass

in the service industry for a few years during my college summers, and I always appreciated good comments being passed along.”

“Where did you go to school?” I asked, kind of dumbfounded. The kid didn't look much older than twenty­two. Maybe twenty­three.

“UMH,” he said. “Actually I just graduated last week, that's why I'm here. Figured I'd celebrate.”

“What'd you study there?”

“Psychology. I played golf there for a couple years, lingered on the reserves team and finally called it quits and figured I'd figure out why golf—and other things—makes the brain tick so much.”

“I can drink to that,” I said. “Hey Josh, can I get a T&T on my tab for this guy?”

Josh made slow work of it, but he eventually dropped off the T&T.

“And a comment card if you don't mind, sir,” said Jordan. Josh gave him a stare but

fetched it anyways.

“Nice guy,” said Jordan. “Quiet, but nice.”

“Yeah, you could say that,” I said.

~ “You're telling me you played golf at UMH AND pledged Omega Gamma Delta?” Ace

reached beneath the bar and stole shots he had stashed beneath his sink when nobody was looking. It was nearing 1 a.m. and the Lounge was almost dead.

“President, actually,” Jordan replied. His frame had relaxed into the high­top chair and his cap was on backwards. “I'd like to tell you that we were a service org through and through, but a couple of our guys had liver spots by their junior year.” “​Vice President of Fellowship, Alpha Iota Sigma,” said Ace. “Was gonna run for

president this year, but, things came up.”

I couldn't keep up with the fraternity talk, but I was on my fifth or sixth T&T since

Jordan and I had sat down so I really didn't care. Listening to them swap stories made me feel like I didn't need to go to college. I was living it that night thanks to gin and random encounters with strangers nice enough to stick around after the crowd had left. My stomach was oh so damn warm.

“You said Pre­Law, right? At UMA? “Yeah, taking a break for now,” said Ace. “Liver needed some time off.”

Jordan smiled a perfectly white and symmetrical smile and raised what had to be his sixth or seventh T&T to meet Ace's shot glass. “Cheers to that.”

Josh tapped Ace on the shoulder. “You can scram, Jackson.”

“In a minute, Josh.” said Ace. “Watch it,” Josh said. “You don't want Jeff to hear about your little underground railroad of shots beneath the sink.”

“Don't use that reference,” said Ace. “I'll clock out in a second.”

Josh gave him a stare and left towards the cooler. There was not a single customer at the bar. They were outside mingling on the deck and beyond.

“Maybe I'm just a little too tipsy,” said Jordan, “but that dude seems like he needs to get laid.”

“Him and me both,” said Ace. “Plenty of chances around here I'd imagine,” said Jordan. “Bartender must be king at an establishment such as this.”

“Usually they are,” said Ace, taking another shot and shivering a bit. “I got a lady around here, though. Trying to be on my best behavior.”

“What's her name?” said Jordan.

“Mary,” said Ace. His exhausted eyes lit up. “She's actually a server here. Think she was on the 5­10 tonight. You might have seen her.”

“I've seen quite a few people here,” said Jordan.

“Cheers to that,” I said, raising my glass to Jordan's.

“I'll sit this one out. I got to drive at some point, and I've been getting secondhand drunk

just by serving this motherfucker,” said Ace, slapping Jordan lightly on the shoulder.

“I got plenty of gas in the tank," Jordan said. "My girl decided not to make the trek with me, so I got twelve more hours in this bender.”

“You messing around?” Ace asked.

“Never,” said Jordan, polishing off the drink. Ace went to refill it without being asked.

“She just gets nervous,” said Jordan, really relaxing in his seat . “I went a little overboard

my sophomore year, blew a .24 one night when one of our parties got busted. Officer let me off without a minor consumption ticket ‘cause he said the hangover was gonna be enough punishment.”

“Wow,” said Ace. “Yeah, she's a keeper.” Jordan pulled out his wallet and grabbed a picture of her, laying it down on the bar. “Her name is Sarah.” Sarah was gorgeous: bright green eyes, subtle dimples, tan skin, and lush black hair. “Been with her for, what, shit, five years now? High school, man,

high school. I keep a picture in my wallet because that's the old­fashioned way to show off your girl. I like old fashioned. So does she. I think that's why we're good for each other.”

“You're a warrior,” said Ace. “I don't even think I've dated a girl for five weeks.”

“Nothing wrong with that life,” said Jordan. “Just not my cup of tea. I got plans. Kids, family, golfing with my kids and family. Maybe I'll take her to Nantucket and we'll settle on a remote—but not too remote—island villa connected to a seaport golf track and I'll run a nice, clean practice out of a brightly painted office. I'll have posters of Jack and Arnie and even Tiger and Rory up, and I'll spend the better part of my days taking Sarah into town to check out the farmer's markets and drinking good scotch and gin and raise my kids to believe in more than just what the world has to offer.”

Ace was in a trance. “That's a plan.”

“Life rarely goes according to plan,” said Jordan. He finished his T&T in two swigs.

“But why not give it a go?”

“Another one?” asked Ace.

“Just one more,” said Jordan. “I need to be able to walk back to my cabin.”

Ace fetched the drink. “Yeah, you're not driving, right?”

“Never,” said Jordan. “I suppose you probably should cut me off, huh?”

“I don't put my job on the line for many people,” said Ace, “but you're one of the good

guys. And they're rare around here.”

“Coop would like him,” I said.

“You gotta meet Coop,” said Ace. “Coop is one of the good guys,” I said.

Jordan sat up straight. “Is he around right now?”

“Think he's turned in for the night. Coop is getting up there. Great guy. Superintendent here.”

“Oh man,” said Jordan. “Give the man my graces on the greens. They are absolutely impeccable.”

I smiled at Ace and he smiled back.

“Tell him yourself. He has tomorrow off,” Ace said.

“Well, I check out at eleven tomorrow. I'll probably sleep until then,” said Jordan. “But

I can maybe squeeze in a quick nine if you guys wanna play.”

“We'll make it happen. Fuck the tee sheet,” said Ace.

“Won't it be full?” Jordan asked.

“We run things around here,” said Ace, taking one last shot.

“You guys really are stars around here, huh?”

“You don't know the half of it,” said Ace. He grinned and turned towards the beer

cooler. “I'm gonna take care of my end of shift. Kiel, give him your number.”

I jotted down my number and slipped it to Jordan. “You gonna make it back safe?”

“I got it,” said Jordan. “But I might be too hungover to kick your guys' ass tomorrow.”

“I don't even get 'em anymore,” I said.

“Hangovers?”

“Yeah, among other things.”

Jordan smiled, finished his drink, slipped my number in his pocket, and tipped his cap at

me. “See you in the morning.”

“You as well.” ~ “Saturday nights are such a bitch sometimes,” said Ace, sitting down next to me beneath

the canopied picnic tables of the Lounge’s VIP deck.

“A good­paying, beautiful bitch at that,” I said. I could hear the whistling of the wind gliding through tree branches, the dull chop of Mansard Lake, and the din of resort guests milling around the grounds in an intoxicated trance.

“I assume corner bar treated you well,” said Ace, lighting a cigarette and thumbing through the pile of bills he had laid across the table.

“Three­seventy cash” I said.

“No shit,” said Ace. “At corner bar?”

“They tipped well tonight. Music was good,” I said.

“Four­seventy for me,” said Ace. “It felt like more than that. Josh wasn’t pulling weight at all.”

I shrugged. “What’ll ya do?”

“Cig?” “Why not.” I lit the cigarette and it tasted good. I held the cherry up to the horizon opening up into a chasm of misty skies beyond the far side of the lake. “What do you think is on the other end?”

Ace was recounting his money. “Of what?”

“Mansard.”

“It’s the half that skirts along the old course’s middle holes and the private cabins.

Mary’s house too,” he said. “You know that.”

“But do you think it’s there right now?” I asked. “You think all those things are right there, right now, and we can’t see them?”

“I would imagine,” said Ace. “Kind of like the tree falling in the woods with nobody around to hear it thing. Might never know.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Thanks for the cigarette.”

“You got it.”

“What’s the plan?” I asked.

“It’s three in the morning," said Ace. "I need a drink, and maybe a joint; and Mary said if I come over I might be able to drink,” he replied.

“Crack that whip,” I said. “She’s got you cutting back on drinking?”

Ace chugged his drink and slammed it on the table. “Hell no. But she doesn’t let me drink when I come over at night ‘cause that’s an excuse to stay the night.”

“You’re telling me you haven’t…?”

“Nope,” said Ace. “Haven’t waited this long until, well, my first sixteen years on this earth.”

“Frat guys aren’t known for that type of thing,” I said.

“Okay ​Kiel,” Ace said. “Frattiest name of all. For one: it’s a fraternity. For two: you’re right. Seriously. It’s going on three weeks.”

“I’m impressed, to be honest,” I said. “I hope it’s worth it.”

“Hope’s not a thing here,” said Ace. “Some things, you know.”

“Go get another drink,” I said. “I don’t like it when you’re on the sentimental level of drunk.”

“What do you want,” said Ace. “I imagine something that’s a double?”

“Just a single is fine. I want to enjoy the descent.”

“You got it,” said Ace. He shoved the cash in his pocket and headed towards the back doors of the lounge.

I finished off the cigarette and fished a joint from behind my ear. Even though a resort guest would be more apt to ask for a puff rather than fetching authorities, I still scanned my surroundings before fishing my lighter out as well.

Then there was a splash, clearly audible and sending out an intense echo. It ruffled my ears and I couldn’t tell where it was coming from at first. Then there were murmurs, the sound of a handful of people storming across a dock, pitter­patter, pitter­patter. Then there was huffing and puffing and a scream. Ace was standing on the patio, mouth agape, staring into the rippled waters of the lake. There was a crowd of people, four or five maybe, reaching into the water just off one of the shorter docks as a silhouette drifted just beneath the surface. The crowd collectively reached towards whatever it was. I moved in closer to get a better view. The crowd was shouting and mumbling.

“His face,” one of them shrieked. “Look at that gouge in his face!”

“It's shallow. He got a rock,” another of them said. They were slurring their words, but they sounded concerned.

Ace kept staring at the scene from a distance. I made my way to his side.

“Somebody call for an ambulance, for God's sake,” another member of the group said.

“Ace,” I said.

He didn't say anything.

“You wanna call an ambulance? My phone is dead.”

He didn't say anything. Just kept staring at the scene.

“Who is that?”

Ace shook his head and kept watching as the handful of drunken patrons pulled the shivering body from the water and onto the dock. One of them realized they had a phone and frantically dialed for help.

Ace moved closer to the scene, but slowly. I followed. And then I saw the shivering body with clarity: the stylish golf attire and chiseled face and backwards hat.

“Shit,” I said.

“You in any shape to drive?” Ace asked.

“I can't drive.”

“Well, it's either you or me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Whatever hospital they take him to.”

“Closest hospital is a half hour away.”

“I know back roads,” said Ace. ~ We sat in the waiting room of Maine Grace Hospital among a scene of dreary­eyed doctors milling about like zombies into the wee hours of the morning. I tried not to fall asleep. I

knew Ace wouldn't want me to fall asleep. He sat next to me, tapping his feet and rubbing his eyes.

I took a deep breath, proceeding with caution. There was a sharp pain in my stomach as the air filled it. “How ya doing?”

He rubbed his eyes again and swiveled his exhausted expression towards me. “Did you ever catch the last name of his girlfriend?”

“Just Sarah.”

“Sarah,” said Ace. He leaned back. “God dammit. God dammit.”

“Give it a second,” I said. “He's still in there.”

“This is happening a lot,” said Ace, studying the cream­colored floor.

“This isn't your fault."

“Let's have silence,” said Ace. I sat back and waited for what felt like hours. The sun’s rim was just barely poking above the clouds. The waiting room filled with a few more people. Then the doctor came out, middle­aged guy who looked even more tired than Ace. “Are you with Jordan?”

“Tonight we were,” said Ace. The doctor folded his hands and cleared his throat. “We tried our best. Our best surgeon was here tonight. But the head trauma did too much damage. He's stable, but—” “But what?” Ace barked.

The doctor pursed his lips. “There's no brain activity. We understand the police department from your town has contacted his family. He'll be stable until they come by.”

“Drop the script,” said Ace.

The doctor allowed for some brief silence. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know that kid in there?”

“Personally, no,” the doctor replied. “Why do you ask?”

“That's a person,” said Ace. His cheeks were burgundy. “That is a human, who was on this earth.”

The doctor stayed silent. “I assure you, all of our patients are of very high priority. We practice empathy AND medic—” “I said. Drop. The. Script.”

“Excuse me, sir, but—” “He wanted to go live on Nantucket and raise a family and play golf,” Ace said. “He was president of his fraternity and beat a drinking problem and has a loving girlfriend named Sarah,” said Ace. “Do any of those details matter to you? At all?”

“Sir, I—” “No. Don't speak.”

The doctor pursed his lips again. “If you would like to see him, he's over in the ICU in room 34B. I'm sorry, sincerely.” Then he was gone.

Ace didn't look at me. His words were soft, brittle. “Kiel, you know I've always got your back, right?”

“Always,” I said.

“I'm about to be a bad friend for a night. And I want you to know that I'm sorry.”

“You're not a bad friend,” I said.

“Can you get a ride back to your house with an officer or something?”

“Why?” “Yes or no, Kiel.”

“I suppose so.”

“Thank you.” He turned and headed for the doors leading to the parking lot.

Chapter 9

Three days had passed and I hadn’t seen or heard from Ace. He had taken a leave from work according to the schedule. I knew he was okay, or assumed so at least, because Ace always managed to turn up. Andy seemed to be just as concerned for Ace. It sure did dampen the mood of my couch day.

“So...Ace,” said Andy.

“Yeah,” I said, lighting a joint and scrolling through some movie options on Netflix.

“He okay?”

“I assume so,” I said. “I’m sure Aubrey would know. You guys got somethin’ going on

there?”

Andy buried himself in a book. “I think she is pretty, well, cool.” “​Cool,” I said, passing him the joint. He declined, just as he had every time we had shared the couch since he moved in. Force of habit. “That’s what the kids are calling it these days?”

“Is that an idiom or are you actually calling me a kid?”

“What’s an idiom?”

“Well,” said Andy. “Do you know when people say, ‘it’s just a figure of speech?’”

“Yeah,” I said, still finding nothing to watch.

“That’s an idiom.”

“Interesting,” I said. “Do you want a mimosa?”

“No thank you,” said Andy. “But if you could pour me a glass of chocolate milk—that is, if you’re going that way—that would be ​cool.”

“Don’t be a smartass,” I said. I went to fetch the drinks and noticed a stumbling figure approaching our house from the far end of Bixby Street. It was Ace. The door flew open and he stumbled in, his eyes rolling about and his hair nappy. “Kiel, Kiel my man, Kiel.” He tried to shut the door behind himself and caught his shin on it. Then he fell down. Then he started swearing. A lot.

“Kiel, fix me a mother fucking drinkie, now why don’t ya?” He flailed on the ground, finally finding his footing only to lose it and fall down five seconds later.

“Jesus Christ, kid,” I said.

“Don’t take the Lord’s name in vain,” said Ace. “Don’t you fucking take the Lord’s name in vain. Now fix me a drink.”

“Settle down,” I said.

Andy’s words were crisp, docile. “You—you okay Ace?” Ace glared at him with wobbling eyes, trying to get to his feet to no avail. “Aside from killing a man, probably losing my job and being sued, and having spent the last three days in a drunken stupor with a hardened chest at the residual memory of a friend of mine being pulled from the water absolutely lifeless...yeah. I’m just peachy and fine Andy.”

“Well,” said Andy. He spoke slowly, carefully. “Do you want to maybe talk about it?”

“I think I just did.”

“Well, you can keep talking about it,” said Andy.

Ace pursed his lips and resigned himself to being stuck on the ground. “You ever take a life?”

“You didn’t take a life,” I said, finishing up the preparation of my mimosa and testing it for taste. “You didn’t choose for Jordan to fall into the lake.”

“Can I please get a damn drink?”

“You need to sober up,” I said, for the first time in a long time.

“You need to make me a drink,” said Ace. “I’ll even drink something with that shitty rail vodka you keep around.”

“Where did you come from?” I asked.

“Hell,” said Ace. “Where did you really come from?”

“Mary’s house,” he said. “God bless her soul, she put up with me sleeping at her house for two days.”

“Same bed?” I asked.

“Don’t rub it in. Even if it was, I had perpetual whiskey dick. I even tried to go for a pity lay.”

“You are a classy man,” I said.

“I’m gonna get sued for all I’m worth, show some empathy,” said Ace. “Show me a drink too.”

“Stop,” I said.

“If I was Jordan’s parents, I’d take me for all I’m worth,” said Ace. “I really need a drink.”

“I doubt they want a couple thousand dollars and a car in your parent’s name.”

“I got to cancel my Gatsby party,” said Ace. “That’s in what? Two weeks? Got to cancel it.”

“I guess if you wanna be a little child about this,” I said. “Wasn’t that when you were planning on making a grand request for Mary’s hand in a relat—” Ace shushed me, rather obnoxiously, spit flying everywhere.

Andy shut his book, stood up, and disappeared into the loft.

Ace exhaled and his body shivered. “You’re a ​friend, Kiel.”

“I know.”

“No, for real.” His voice was hushed now. “I still keep in some semblance of contact with my brothers from the fraternity. I’ll always have them, I think. But I’m doubting that every day. I don’t know, anyways—” Another deep breath. “—you’re a ​fucking friend. You’re basically my brother.”

“Well, thank you,” I said.

His voice hardened. He sat up and finished off the joint before putting it out on his shirt and tossing it aside. “No, don’t,” he said. “You’re my ​fucking friend, why are you treating this situation like a shout in the fucking wind?”

“A shout in the wind?”

“It’s an idiom,” said Ace. “Of course it is,” I said.

“Seriously. Why?” “Why what?” I asked.

“I like to stay steady,” Ace replied. “But I watched a kid whom I got to know, and admire greatly, get dragged out of the lake and sprawl lifeless on the dock. After serving him a couple too many. My chest is tight and my eyes have dried out and I bottomed out three different bottles of booze in the past twelve hours and stole some Vicodin from dad’s medicine cabinet and I didn’t find shit for a solution.”

“I understand,” I said.

“You do not,” he said. “The sky is really fucking dark right now,” said Ace. “The sky has always been bright around here. But the same shit that’s made it bright has made it dark.”

I got down to rolling another joint. I was going to need it. “Are you a poet now?”

Ace found his way to a full sitting position. “That, ​that shit right there. This isn’t funny.”

“Ace,” I said. “Just take a—” “Nope,” said Ace. “I don’t know why you think all this is just a joke. Or like another episode of ​It’s Always Sunny In Philadelphia where the world falls down and then resets the next episode. This is ​real. Are you not capable of showing a shade of empathy?”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“Where’s your mom?”

“Not relevant,” I said.

Ace wasn’t having it. “Where’s your mother?”

“She’s at home.”

“Have you called her recently?”

“I don’t think she has a phone,” I said.

“Write a letter?”

“I don’t know where she lives,” I said. It was a lie.

“Bull,” he said. “That’s your mother.”

“Loose term,” I said.

“You should go see her.”

“No car. No license. Can’t drive,” I said, sparking the next joint.

“I’ll take you,” Ace said. “You might not want to be a friend to me right now, but I’ll be damned if I’m not a friend to you.”

“I don’t need to see her. I’ve seen her enough.”

Ace got to his feet and fetched himself some water from the kitchen. He polished it off and peered out the window. “I love you, Kiel,” he said. “But what is all this to you?”

“I’m not sure what that means,” I said.

“I don’t like the fact that you can look a friend in the eyes, a friend who has been enduring the 47th circle of hell for the past seventy­two hours, and just shrug off what’s going on. I think you’re thinking too little.”

“I think you’re thinking too much,” I said.

Ace filled up his cup again. “Normally that would deserve a toast, but you’ve shut your liquor cabinet and I’m at serious odds with your ideology and perspective right now.”

“Sit down,” I said. “Listen to some classics. Play some video games. Chill out.”

“I love you, Kiel,” Ace said. He was a tad more sober than he had been when he walked in. “But I need to get out of here for a little while.”

“Sit down,” I said. “Seriously.”

“I came here because I thought it would help,” Ace said.

“You came here for a drink.”

“A drink is a gateway to exchanges of empathy,” said Ace. “That’s not here.”

I didn’t say a word as Ace made his way out the door and down the driveway. I reached inside my wallet to fish out the picture of my mom before realizing it was in a million pieces at the bottom of the fire pit. I resumed the joint and melted into the couch.

Chapter 10

“Do you talk to your mom a lot, Coop?” I asked him. We walked in the dark, traversing the executive course as midnight neared. He carried a bucket of old range balls with him and a high beam flashlight. I often insisted that he let me carry them, but he never relented on that.

“Not as much as I should,” said Coop. “Not nearly enough.” He stopped me, straining his eyes into the darkness before us. We had glow sticks around our wrists and necks, but aside from that my vision was confined to a small bubble. “The seventh green is about 160 yards straight ahead. I think it was the back pin today.”

“You should be a caddy,” I said. I pulled a cigar from behind my ear and lit it. “Here’s a little more light.” I produced a cigar from my pocket and passed it to him. He obliged and stoked it.

“I’d love to, Kiel,” he said. “Maybe once I get tired of busting my back over these greens.”

“Best greens in the state, Coop.”

“Stick it close, Kiel.”

I had my new golf bag strapped to my shoulders. I fished out a seven iron and got a feel for the moist grass with a couple of practice swings. “I need to golf more.”

“Amen,” said Coop. “Never enough time.”

“Why don’t you show me how it’s done, Coop,” I said.

“Maybe someday,” said Coop.

“You don’t mean that,” I said. I took a swing and I could feel in my bones and in the shaft of the club that I had pushed it way right of where Coop had advised.

“She was a good woman, golf was,” Coop said. “Broke my heart plenty of times, but she was a good woman. Sometimes you just have to go separate ways.”

I grabbed another ball from the bucket and set it down. “Ace was getting all poetic earlier today, must be going around.”

“How is he doing?”

“Not the best,” I said. “He’s letting this Jordan thing swallow him whole.”

“I don’t blame him,” said Coop. “Is he getting charged?”

“Nothing from the cops. Jordan’s family hasn’t done anything yet, I guess.”

“Still...not good.”

“It’s not his fault,” I said.

“It’s kind of his fault,” said Coop. “And as long as he gets face­to­face with that, he’ll be okay. Ace is one of the good ones, too.”

I backed off of the ball and listened closely as the crickets sang and the tree branches stirred and rattled together. I could hear traffic from the highway.

“I guess I’m just not that shaken,” I said. “Is that a problem?”

Coop passed me back the cigar. “Everybody’s different.”

“He told me to call my mom,” I said.

“Well, when was the last time you called her?”

“Two, maybe three years,” I said.

“That’s far too long,” said Coop. “Get her on the phone tomorrow, trust me on this one.”

“Maybe,” I said.

“You haven’t told me much about her,” Coop said. “What’s she like?”

I took another swing and knew it was a little better than the last one, but still probably off by quite a ways. The crickets piped down while the wind picked up. I was chilly.

“She’s just kind of...she’s not like much,” I said. “She’s kind of just floating.”

“Does she have a passion? What does she do? And like?”

“Not much,” I said. “That’s the thing.”

“Give her a call,” said Coop. “I promise you’ll feel better.”

“I will if you play a round with me,” I said.

“Let’s take a rain check on that,” said Coop. “The record is still intact. Michael shot a sixty­seven this week when he was here. He’s getting closer, but maybe he won’t be back this year.”

“Record is safe, Coop,” I said. I set another ball down and absolutely hooked it. It sounded bad.

Coop cringed as he heard the ball ricochet off of a tree to our left. “That’s for sure.” ~ I got in that night around one and stumbled through the doorway to find James sitting on the couch with a bottle of champagne propped on a TV dinner tray in front of him. There was docile, grooving music seeping from the TV speakers. His eyes were beaming and he was smiling wide.

“You must have got laid,” I said, finding the fridge.

“By life,” said James. He poured himself a glass of champagne and lifted it, bobbing it with the beat of the music.

“You get the raise?”

“Up to fourteen­fifty,” James said, the buzz from the bubbly coating his words. “After a thirty­day probationary period, to which I’ll receive back pay for the raise if I pass through.”

“Hell of a deal,” I said.

“Financial planner told me to hit fourteen and I had a good chance,” James said. “Plan is coming through.”

“Cheers.”

“He said another calendar of full­time at fourteen could net me enough equity,” James said. He turned the music down and cleared his throat. “I’m not sure if I told you this, but I have stocks. And financial planners like stocks.”

“You don’t say?” I said, peering into my liquor cabinet and pondering the pros and cons of both cinnamon whiskey and spiced rum.

“Grandpa on my mom’s side got me some stocks when I was born. Planner says they’re worth enough to liquidate into equity that can go towards the restaurant. He said that between the stocks and a year at fourteen an hour, I could do it.” James relaxed. “I got this.”

“Does your mom know?” I asked, sitting next to him.

“She doesn’t have to. It’s better that way,” said James. “She’ll know, eventually.”

“Big plans?”

“Just being happy. That’s all she needs to know.”

“Amen,” I said.

“Amen,” said James, smiling at me. We clicked glasses.

“Where’s Mariah?” I asked.

James grinned. “I really wanted pizza.”

I sipped my drink. “But the nearest 24/7 Pizza is all the way in—” “Park Pointe,” he said through a shit­eating grin.

“That’s a haul. You are ​good,” I said. “What kind of pizza?”

“Supreme,” said James. “I know you’re a fan.”

“Just like when we would ditch school grounds during lunch and go get a few slices,” I said. “That was damn near a half­decade ago, you know?”

“Amen,” James said.

I toasted him. “Amen.”

Chapter 11

The following evening found us wining and dining on the ​Mansard Belle. There was a full cocktail menu and a few good entree choices to go with short­order apps. A tuxedo­clad fellow named Reginald piloted it. He must have been in his forties, donning a glass eyeball and a British accent of sorts.

“So I say to this clown on the course, ​‘What’s your handicap, kid?’” Ace said to the laughter of our entire party. I had zoned out during the first part of the story, but when I snapped back to it, Ace was leaning in a cool­kid pose, dressed in a blazer and freshly pressed khakis and looking rather classy beneath the overhead lights of the ​Belle’s top floor. We scored top floor privileges thanks to Ace, and I didn’t ask why. I was just happy he was being Ace again.

“What a gorgeous night for it, eh?” said James. He kissed Mariah on the cheek. She matched his glow.

“June: the gateway to love and happiness,” said Ace. He put his arm around a sundress­clad Mary, pulling her in and kissing her on the cheek.

“You’re so trite sometimes,” she said, kissing his cheek.

Andy and Aubrey were seated next to Ace and Mary, and they had dressed up a fair amount too. Aubrey had on a wonderful romper thing, and Andy looked pretty cool with his typical Polo get­up. He even managed to let her hold his hand for a few minutes at a time.

There were guests of all ages, probably sixty total, milling around the three story deck, but their echoing conversations seemed like nothing but white noise.

“And we’ll be nearing Deacon Bay,” said Reginald over the intercom. “That has us arriving back to port in an hour at the current pace.”

Ace looked up at the moon, clear and bright and so highly perched, and back down at everybody at our table. “Great night to be with you guys. Let’s make a toast.”

“I might need another drink,” James said.

“It can be with water,” said Ace. “This isn’t a normal toast.” He sat up perfectly straight.

Mary gazed into him.

“Oh dear,” said Aubrey. “Does everything have to be out of a movie scene with you?”

Ace tapped his glass with his fork twice. “Maybe the classics,” he said, looking at me.

“Have to respect the classics.”

I nodded at him. He nodded back.

“To this group,” he said. “James, Mariah, Kiel, Andy, Aubrey, and of course—” He took a pause and kissed Mary on the lips. “—this wonderful lady here, who’s so damn beautiful, so incredibly beautiful, with every little thing she does.” He finished his glass and kissed Mary again.

“Trite,” Aubrey said.

“I woke up at her place last week,” Ace started.

“Ace, no—” Mary said.

“No, sweetheart, trust me,” Ace said. “So, I wake up at her place, in the guest room of course because she’s a lady.”

Mary blushed.

“So, I come into the kitchen,” Ace continued. “I come into the kitchen and I see her reading a George W. Bush memoir. She’s just got her hair tied up, wearing a T­shirt of some volunteer thing she did because she’s awesome, and she’s drinking coffee and eating a grapefruit with her hair up in a ponytail reading a piece of Dubya’s literature. And my heart just stopped.”

“I didn’t really like Dubya,” said James.

“Dubya was a good man,” said Ace. He started stroking Mary’s hair. “A woman with good taste in literature and who looks damn good with her hair up in the morning is a classic.

And I love the classics. So, here’s one for Mary.”

We toasted again.

“Set the bar pretty high for Andy,” said Mariah.

“A toast is a sacred art,” Ace said. “Andy?”

Andy looked petrified and stiff. His hair was thick and slicked backwards in a smooth, tuft way, and his shirt fit perfectly, pressed even cleaner than Ace’s. He looked a little different, a little more suave than normal, but petrified and stiff nonetheless. We all turned our attention to him.

“I like, uh, well—” “Come on, buckshot,” said James. “Spit it out.”

“I like the fact that Aubrey likes to be around me when I’m reading and listening to stuff and I like when she talks to me about it,” he said, moving slowly through his words. He shivered and looked around. Aubrey’s cheeks flared and she put her hand on his, which startled him further.

She had full­blown googly eyes if I had ever seen such a thing. “Oh?”

“And, well,” said Andy. He forced himself to match her stare. “I think you’re really pretty. Gorgeous, really. Well.” He took a deep breath and shut his eyes, opened them again, and kept on as the boat drifted through the bay. “I think that there’s three good words to describe a good­looking girl: pretty, beautiful, and gorgeous. But those words are so common now. I wish there was a different word because I need one for you.”

There was a moment of silence, underscored by the boat’s humming motor and the chatter from below. Then Aubrey kissed Andy on the lips, briefly and carefully, and pulled back.

Ace golf clapped and Mary put her head on his shoulder and a waiter dropped off another round of drinks and I considered myself in pretty good spirits in that particular moment. Maybe some people would have felt like a carry­on or seventh wheel in that situation, but it didn’t feel like that. Ace wasn’t trying to drown in alcohol and James seemed level after the raise.

Mary was picking at her entree. Her wrists were trembling. “I think this is a nice town,” she said. “I'm glad dad set us up here.”

“Me too,” said Ace. He rubbed her back with one hand and sipped his bourbon with the other. “Me too. How's the steak?”

“It's good,” said Mary. Then the conversation got real quiet and the murmurs from around crept in. We neared the innermost cove of the bay. “How is everybody doing tonight?”

“Great,” said Mariah.

“Perfect,” said James.

Andy and Aubrey didn't contribute, picking away at their entrees instead.

“Good,” I said.

“Good,” said Mary. Then her eyes got a little misty. She turned to stand up and Ace grabbed her shoulder.

“What's going on?” Ace asked.

“I just need a moment,” said Mary.

“Dear,” he said.

“Dad was supposed to come see us next weekend,” Mary said. “Mom says he's stuck somewhere over in Europe and something is going on with his passport and that's just not like dad.”

“Not now,” said Aubrey. “Let's just enjoy the night, why don't we?”

“I don't know why this isn't an issue for you,” said Mary to her sister.

“Out of my control,” said Aubrey in that carefree, deadpan tone. “Out of your control too.”

The waiter came around and asked if we wanted refills. We were all kind of preoccupied with Mary, so Ace poked his head out of the group and gave him drink orders for all of us.

“Dad used to tell us all the time that you don't become the best without being a little cutthroat,” said Mary.

“America,” said Aubrey. “​Aubrey,” said Mary.

“Slow down, Mare,” said Aubrey. “It’s all good.”

The boat swiveled and rounded the shore of the bay and the other passengers quieted a bit. The air seemed to be growing thicker by the minute, and I thought about how great it would be to jump off the boat and engulf myself in Mansard’s waters.

Mary gathered herself. “Ace, where are we in regards to my house?”

Ace peered around. “I think we're just across the way,” he said, pointing east to another bay that was barely visible.

“What are the odds of getting us over there?”

Ace straightened his collar and stood up. “I'll see.” He headed towards Reginald's perch at the other end of the floor. Then there was more silence. I continued with my drink.

“So, I got a raise,” said James.

“That's great,” said Andy, a little too eagerly.

James stiffened.

“Yeah, that's great,” said Mary.

“Yeah,” said James.

“I'm proud of you babe,” said Mariah, nuzzling his shoulder.

“To James,” I said, raising my glass.

“Amen,” said James, returning the favor. We clicked our glasses as the others looked on.

Ace returned, seating himself and returning to his drink and entree. “About fifteen minutes and we'll be there.”

Mary kissed him on the cheek and rested her head on his shoulder. “You're the best.”

“Sky’s blue, Miss Anne. Sky’s blue.”

Aubrey turned to Andy. “Do you want to come over tonight?” She touched his hand, and he didn't pull back.

“Um, well, yes, sure, I would like to, yes,” said Andy.

“Good,” said Aubrey, her index finger massaging his knuckles.

“Anybody else?” asked Mary.

James looked at Mariah and back at Mary. “We wouldn't mind at all.”

“Kiel,” said Mary. “You should join us. We have enough guest rooms.”

I looked at Mary, who was still getting cuddly with Ace, and then at Mariah and James staring into each other's eyes and then at Aubrey playing with Andy's hand.

“I think I need to turn in for the night,” I said. “Maybe get some rest.”

“Nonsense,” said Mary. “Please join us.”

“I've got the lunch shift tomorrow,” I said, which was a blatant lie.

“Okay,” said Mary.

The ​Belle neared the Anne residence’s dock.

“Guests, we've got to make a quick stop,” said Reginald over the speaker. “This will only take a minute.”

Reginald did a fine job of halting the boat close to the dock. Ace stood up and the others followed.

“See you tomorrow, brother,” Ace said to me.

“Surely,” I said, raising my glass to him.

The others bid farewell to me and made their way to the staircase descending to the main floor. I watched them step onto the dock and walk, coupled up and hand­in­hand, towards the Anne manor.

“Surely,” I said to myself. The crowd became more audible around me as the ​Belle set off once more. I picked at what was left of my steak and finished what had to have been my ninth drink. “Surely.”

~

A few days later I found myself in the passenger seat of Coop's old Buick, cruising down the highway to the sound of classic rock jams and Coop spitting tobacco swill into a cup at perfect rhythm.

“So you called ahead?” asked Coop.

“I did.”

“What did she say?”

“She asked me to pick her up cigarettes,” I said, brandishing a pack of Camel filters I had secured in my pocket.

“Are you ready?”

“Sure,” I said. “You don't usually steer me wrong.”

“You're one of the good ones,” Coop said. “I'm just trying to help out.”

We passed a city limits sign for Cosgrove Township, situated a few miles outside of my hometown. The population was 210 people. There were empty fields, some patches of forestry lining them on each horizon, but aside from that it was mostly lifeless. It's where my mom had been living since a year before I had left for Mansard Point.

“What do I say to her?” I asked.

Coop adjusted the radio tuner and spit out some more swill. He chewed on my question for a mile. “Just talk to her. She's your mom.”

“Loose term,” I said.

We continued on and pulled off onto a side road as per the directions my mother had given me when I called her the previous day. It was a short conversation.

“Now I'll be visiting with an old friend of mine only a few miles away at the golf club, so call me when you're done,” Coop said.

“It probably won't be long,” I said.

“Try to get at least an hour out of it,” Coop advised.

“I'll try,” I said.

We pulled off down a driveway that was nestled in overgrown shrubs with old tree limbs leaning out into the dirt path. They rattled Coop's windshield and he didn't even seem to notice.

We reached the house, which I only had a vague memory of. It was a one­story cottage, painted white and weathered from many years without maintenance. The front porch looked dried out and ready to cave in at any second. Then I saw her: wrinkled, leathery face, tattered gray hair, sitting in an oversize sweater and some tattered sweatpants. She was smoking a cigarette and looking at the hummingbirds making good use of a feeder hanging from the rafters. She looked once at the car and then back to the birds.

“I'll call you,” I said.

“Try to make an hour, Kiel,” Coop said.

“I'll try, Coop.”

I exited the car and made my way towards the porch.

“Kiel,” she said, her voice rusty.

“Hi mom,” I said.

She kept her gaze on the birds and ashed her cigarette. “Did you bring those cigarettes?”

I handed her the pack and took a seat in a rocking chair.

“Thank you,” she said. She pulled one out and offered me one, which I declined before thinking about Coop’s words. She lit hers and passed me the lighter. I leaned back and got a cherry going on mine. Her eyes looked exhausted, surrounded by bags and dark circles.

I breathed slowly, rocking in the chair as I tried to enjoy the cigarette. “How have you been?”

“I've been fine,” she said. “You didn't call there for a while.”

“I know,” I said. “I'm sorry.”

“It's okay. Not much reason to, I suppose,” she said.

“What have you been up to?”

“This,” she said. “I've got disability now, and the house is covered. Haven't even been to work in a couple of years. Three maybe.”

“Sounds like a vacation,” I said.

She looked at me and back at the birds, exhaling a thick cloud of smoke. “I guess.”

We sat in silence. I tried to look around but didn't see much worth looking at: there was the battered garage and the withering trees and a blue sky above, and that was pretty much it.

“Heart's been acting up,” she said. “Doc is having me go in for a full screening next week sometime. I think the damn pipe caught up to me, Kiel.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“Your ol’ mom isn't doing so well.”

“I'm sorry,” I said.

“What about you?” she asked.

“Just a lot of work,” I said. “Bartending full­time.”

“Over in Mansard?”

“Yeah,” I said. I wanted to toss the cigarette but some force of nature kept me puffing on it.

“Must be good money,” she said.

“I survive,” I said.

“All we can ask for,” she said, ashing the cigarette and lighting another one.

“You know, the insurance company told me I need to pay a bit down on my deductible if they have to do an operation,” she said. “I tried to get assistance, but they denied me.”

“Damn government,” I said.

“I guess they want about fifteen­hundred, maybe two grand. Said they'd get back to me. I only have a third of it.”

I had no idea what to say. “How's John?”

“Think the pipe is getting him, too. I don’t think the apple really ever falls far from the tree, Kiel.”

“Is he around?” I asked.

“Who knows,” she said.

“Okay,” I said. I ashed the cigarette and pulled out my wallet, subtly. I counted four hundred dollars of cash in my wallet based off of a quick glance.

“Here,” I said.

She looked at the money, looked at me, and then back at the money. She tightened her lips around the cigarette. “How much is that?”

“It's about four,” I said, thinking about the new set of irons I was just about to buy. “I can get you more in the coming weeks.”

She grabbed the money and counted it.

“When's the operation?” I asked.

She counted the money again and ignored my question.

“Mom?” “Hm, what?”

“When's the operation?”

“As soon as I can pay for it,” she said.

I put the cigarette out. It hadn't tasted as good as I had thought it would. The air surrounding the house was bitter with a hint of tree sap and even that tasted better.

She removed herself from the chair. “I have to go make a quick phone call. I would invite you in, but the house is a shithole right now.”

“That's fine, mom,” I said.

She opened the rickety storm door that was chipped and weathered and disappeared inside. A harsh and even more bitter aroma wafted outside. I didn't recognize it, but it was putrid on my tongue and in my nostrils. She returned but five minutes later, a glass of foggy liquid in her hand. She set it down next to me.

“Figured you'd want some water.”

I studied the glass. Its contents didn't look like water. “Thank you.”

“So, are you finding any girls over there in that resort?”

“I guess,” I said. “Nothing really worth keeping around. I like my couch days.”

“What days?” she asked, lighting another cigarette.

“I like to sit on the couch some days,” I said. “And just have a drink and be there, in the present, on the couch. It's nice.”

Mom looked off. “I like that. Couch day. I feel like my whole life is a couch day.”

“I guess,” I said.

We continued on until a rusted pickup truck barreled down the driveway, coming to a halt in front of us. It was dented and battered and I imagine it could be heard from a mile away. A man, wearing a stained jeans jacket and weathered white sneakers, stepped out of the truck. He had scars on his five o’clock shadow and his eyes were milky. “Meleene, you have a guest?”

“Just my boy,” she said, turning to me. “Well, it was sure nice to see you,” she said to me.

“Oh, yeah, I guess,” I said.

“I just have to have a private conversation with this gentleman,” she said. “He's my, therapist. Or counselor. Or whatever you call them.”

“Doctor,” said the man in the stained jeans jacket, staying put by his truck. “I'm her doctor.”

I sent a text to Coop and stood up. “My ride should be here shortly.”

“You can wait on the porch if you want,” she said.

“Okay,” I said.

The man who claimed he was a doctor lumbered up the steps and gave me a sideways glance that I didn't like. Then he led my mom inside. Coop arrived a few minutes later.

~ Chapter 12

I don't give Tommy Van Vickle nearly enough credit: the kid knows how to be a good schmooze. Mary had invited our group to her house for a Sunday evening barbecue, and due to Ace’s insistence, the Van Vickle brothers had to be invited. Ace even gave Tommy rights to the grill. I had never seen Ace give up rights to the grill before, but I sat on a lawn chair that Sunday night with a beverage in my hand as Tommy worked over some burgers and brats with a twinkle in his eye. Donny and Andy sat next to me and the Anne sisters had disappeared inside for quite a while. I had no idea where Ace was either, but the sun was in its wonderful 7 p.m. slot and it was just warm enough for a light jacket and golf shorts.

Tommy was singing along to a Loverboy song and working over the burgers when he snapped out of his trance. “Donny, I need a beer.”

Donny had his face in his phone. “Get it yourself.”

“Donny,” Tommy said. “Grab me a beer.”

Donny paid him no mind.

“Donny, I swear to God...”

With that, Donny stood up and shook his head. He made his way towards the cooler full of beer located quite literally ten feet away from his brother.

Tommy cracked the beer and guzzled it. “So, Kiel, who you got this year for the Series?”

“I like what L.A. is doing,” I said.

“L.A. is sweet,” Tommy said. “Both teams have been making moves. Angels have Mike Trout though. The Dodgers have that Puig fellow, but he ain't no Mike Trout."

“Los Angeles is cold for how warm it is,” said Andy. He sat stiff as a board in the lawn chair.

Tommy pressed on with the burgers and brats. “You been to L.A.?”

“A couple times,” said Andy.

“It's cold there?” Tommy asked.

“When I was there,” said Andy.

Tommy nodded and returned his gaze to the grill. “Alright. Alright.”

Andy went to speak, but caught himself. After much effort, he spit out: “Where have you been, Tommy?”

“Not enough places,” said Tommy. “But kind of at the same time, too many places.”

“Huh?” Andy said.

“Life's kind of funny,” said Tommy. He reached for the pint of ale next to him and damn near finished it in one swig. “But, I've been to most of the big spots.”

“The big spots?” asked Andy.

“The New Yorks, the Floridas...”

“B­but,” Andy said, “not...not Los Angeles?”

“Nope,” said Tommy. He looked towards Mansard Lake like he was searching really hard for something. “Not Los Angeles. Las Vegas, but not Los Angeles.”

“They're basically the same,” said Andy.

Tommy didn't look away from the lake. “You've been to Vegas?”

“A few times,” said Andy. “I was young.”

“They say Vegas is family­friendly now,” said Tommy. “I kind of agree, but it's been awhile.”

“It's not,” said Andy. “Too loud.”

Tommy plated up some of the burgers and turned up the boom box next to him. “I like loud. Loud is good sometimes.”

“I don't like loud,” said Andy. “It makes it hard to think.”

“Oh yeah?” asked Tommy.

“Yeah.”

“What are you doing for work this summer, Andy?”

“I'm not,” said Andy. “Is that bad?”

“I guess not,” said Tommy. Then he hummed the tune to another classic rock song that was on the radio. The others were still nowhere to be found. “You wanna come inside with me while I get these burgers plated up?”

“Uh, well…” said Andy.

“Come on,” said Tommy.

Andy got to his feet and followed him inside.

“How does he do that?” I asked Donny.

“He's good with people,” said Donny. He fidgeted in his chair and got real rigid before exhaling and leaning back. “He's just not very good with other things.”

“I like Tommy,” I said. “You guys were good teammates.”

“When he wasn't drunk, he was a pretty good hitter,” said Donny. “Our senior year he was drunk for every game and still had a higher average than me. I don't think you were around for that year, were you?”

“Nah, that was the year after I graduated," I said. "Some people are good like that, though. Good under any circumstances."

“Yeah,” said Donny. “Even after dad passed, he kept hitting well.”

“I almost forgot about that."

“Seven years now,” said Donny. “Seven years and I don't think I remember what his face looks like and it bothers me. I think it bothers Tommy too. I know it bothers him, but he doesn't like to show it or talk about it." He looked down at his hand, clutching a mixed drink. "I can only get around to talking about it with a few drinks though."

“Some people are good like that,” I said.

“Good?”

“Maybe not the best word,” I said.

“It's alright,” said Donny.

“We should find the others,” I said.

“Sure,” said Donny.

Ace appeared on the deck. “Where's Tommy with those burgers?”

“He brought them inside with Andy just a second ago,” I said.

“Cool, cool," said Ace. "Where's James and Mariah?”

“Not sure."

“I told them that dinner was at eight,” said Ace.

“I'm no baby sitter."

“Dinner at eight means dinner at eight. I'm gonna fry James,” said Ace, grinning.

“Sure thing,” I said.

Ace went back inside and I decided to give another minute to sitting next to Donny, who told me about his studies and his life at Buxton State and how he had lived with the same roommates for two years now. He said one of them was going to be graduating early in Applied Economics and the other was close to losing his job because he couldn't wake up for his alarm.

When Donny was done talking about them I finished my drink and excused us to the dining room where James and Mariah had arrived and were mingling with the rest of the group, Andy and Tommy included. Tommy was setting the serving trays on the place settings mapped across the table while talking to James, who was rather ecstatic about the bow tie he had just bought to go with an outfit purchased to celebrate the promotion.

“A gentleman needs a good bow tie, Tommy,” James said. Mariah was discussing something with Mary and Aubrey was whispering in Andy's ear.

“I agree, Mr. Fitzpatrick. A gentleman you are, and a scholar too,” said Tommy. “Might I grab you something to drink?”

“Do you have any ale?” James asked.

“I do, I do,” said Tommy. He fetched the cooler from the porch and produced an ale for James, who cracked it and continued to talk about the bow tie and the promotion and how beautiful Hyanisport was this time of year and how we had to all go there sometime for a day trip. I had been to Hyanisport a few times—mostly via party bus, and had not yet experienced the seaport town sober. I mentioned this in the conversation and James told me I had to be sober

more often and I poured a drink after he said that without realizing the irony until I took the first sip. It was a bittersweet sip but a sip none the less.

The dinner was rather tasty and we all noted this. Tommy sat next to his brother and blushed slightly when we spoke our praises.

“I just like to sit down with people,” said Tommy. “I like you people.”

“Toast to that,” said Ace, who had cleaned up nice with a blazer and Armani shirt with Chubbies­brand shorts to boot. He raised his glass and Mary clutched his arm like she always did.

“I'd like to toast to this gentleman,” Mary said, raising her glass of wine. She kissed Ace on the cheek. “Quite the asshole, excuse my French, at first glance but, well you know the old saying,” she said.

“An old saying about assholes?” James asked.

“No, no,” said Mary. “I hate clichés, but, you must not judge a book by its cover.” She kissed Ace again, this time on the lips, and raised her glass. “I thought over­toasting was tacky but I think I like the way you guys do it here,” she said. She then looked into Ace's eyes for quite some time, Ace stared back, and we were all about ready to return to our dinner when she finally finished up. “And you should definitely not judge that book's cover if the cover is so damn handsome.”

Mariah swooned. Aubrey rolled her eyes, but not in a mean way. I simply took it in and poured myself another drink. I attempted to count the amount of drinks that had passed my gullet that day, but I got bored with the task when my count hit eight.

After dinner we made our way down towards the beach and lit a fire, played some music, and cooked marshmallows for S'mores. Ace led Mary’s hand in several dances to several tempos, James did the same with Mariah but with a little less suaveness to him, and Andy and Aubrey disappeared at random intervals down the shoreline and around the yard without much notice. Tommy, Donny, and I stayed in our seats for the most part.

“I like my S’mores with a little extra oomph,” said Tommy. He lathered a couple ‘mallows in whiskey and extended them into the fire with a stick he had found in the woods and chiseled—discreetly—with his pocket knife.

“So have you really never been to Los Angeles?” I asked him.

Tommy’s eyes reflected the blaze of the fire and he had a modest smirk going. “I don’t know if I’ll ever go,” he said. “You’ve been there, Kiel?”

“No,” I said. “I just figured you had. You’ve been around haven’t you?”

“Too much,” said Donny.

“Maybe,” said Tommy to his brother. “But I lean more towards the not enough stance in that discussion.”

“I like staying true to a home,” said Donny. “Traveling makes you cynical sometimes, at least that’s what I heard at school.”

“And that’s why I don’t want to go to school,” said Tommy. “It’s cynical liberals and old people trying on new ideas and it just isn’t the same as what it once was.”

“How would you know?” Donny asked.

Tommy looked at Donny like the wind had just been sucked out of him, and I heard the water swishing nearby amplify in intensity. “I just know, Donny. Fetch me an ale, why don’t you?”

“No,” said Donny.

“Donny.”

“Fine.”

Then it was just Tommy and I for a moment, watching the dancing couples and the sparks rising from the fire as the water swished about before us and reflected the violet hues of the setting sun.

“Ace and Mary look nice together,” said Tommy.

I looked at them. Ace’s chest hair was peeking out just slightly from his Armani shirt, which had lost a few buttons since dinner. He looked like a gentleman if I had ever seen one and Mary looked like a lady in her tasteful, peach­colored sundress and broach and shoes that I didn’t know the name of but looked rather tasteful anyway. They circled around each other, sometimes in a tango and sometimes in a slow dance. He whispered things in her ear and she laughed and touched his shoulder and they kissed. I looked upon them like someone looking at a scene in a movie they weren’t sure if they would want to experience in real life.

“Sometimes it gets dizzy though,” said Tommy. He had produced a cigar from his jacket pocket and lit it. Donny returned with an ale and we kept our gaze on the scene unfolding as Tommy cracked the beer and took a good swig and toasted to that June night.

When the sun had fully gone down behind the west bay of Mansard Lake and the violet hues had disappeared off the surface we had all found chairs around the fire and were chatting

about various things. Mary talked about how she really wished her dad had been able to make it up. Ace comforted her. James talked about the food he would serve at his new restaurant, and Andy even warmed up a bit and told us a story about the time he had won a spelling bee by accident in school. Even though he stuttered a bit, we all liked the story and laughed at it. Ace even complimented Andy on his “eloquence” and Andy even toasted back. This carried on for an hour or two before there was another round of dancing. It seemed less exclusive than the previous session, so I made my way out to the grass, kicked off my flip­flops, and danced with all my friends underneath a moon that hung above us like a well­placed portrait in a slick Victorian home. “‘Simple Man’!” Tommy shouted. Andy was DJing, a duty bestowed upon him by Ace. “Sure,” said Andy. “After this song.”

“No! Now!” “I’m not Donny,” Andy laughed. “Cut that out.”

“Hey, screw off Andy why don’t ya,” said Donny with a little grin. Andy’s DJing skills were pretty nice, and I think I told him so. We may have even toasted him. He played “You Can’t Always Get What You Want” by The Rolling Stones and we all liked that song quite a bit.

If you don’t like that song or The Stones then I don’t know how I can possibly explain how great it sounded set to the beat of our dancing and gazing and drinking. Then Andy played “Simple Man” to close and Tommy and I belted it out and even joined Ace for the refrain. Then it was over and we sat by the fire for another few moments. James and Mariah left graciously, Tommy had Donny drive him home, and suddenly it was just the Anne sisters and their counterparts and me sitting around a dwindling and nearly lifeless fire.

“Won't you be an attorney some day?” Mary asked Ace, sitting on his lap.

“I will, I will,” said Ace. He looked at her. “There's just the part about it being such a cynical job sometimes.”

That had been the third or fourth time I had heard the word “cynical” that night and I was about to comment on that trend, but I let the conversation unfold instead.

“First, there comes a major dilemma,” said Ace, sipping his drink carefully and with more restraint than I had ever seen him practice. “Do I want to be a district attorney that helps keep trash behind bars but has to jump through bureaucratic hoops, or do I want to be a prosecuting attorney that gets swept up in useless civil cases with no point other than leeching money? Or do I want to be a defense attorney and be a litterbug for the streets in exchange for some false guise of nobility?”

Mary's face sobered up quite a bit. “You've thought about this.”

“Too much,” said Ace. “After I lettered on the varsity debate team in seventh grade, dad told me I'd be wise to be a lawyer. I was thirteen and living lavish at a prep school. I researched what attorneys get paid and saw tons of cool lawyers in the movies and kind of made up my mind there and never looked back. But I've thought about it a lot recently.”

“Practicing law is noble,” Andy said. “I've seen quite a few shows where lawyers are demonized. Movies too. But I think law is noble. I think knowing how to manipulate it is what makes people that cynical way you're talking about, but I think that practicing law is noble at first, like most things.”

“Where do you think cynicism comes from?” Ace asked.

“You’re asking m­me?” Andy said.

“Yeah, you,” said Ace. He sat up a bit and seemed to be paying close attention to Andy despite Mary barking up his arm again.

“I think it just happens when you get sick of things,” said Andy. There was a brevity in his voice I hadn't heard before. “When you get sick of things and nothing is left but this brutal ache in your heart that you've seen it all and will never see something in a new way again.”

Ace took a drink before setting the glass down and facing up towards the moon. “You've seen the moon before, Andy?”

“A few times,” said Andy.

“You sick of the moon?”

“Sometimes I'd get sick of it, maybe around this time last year,” said Andy. “But now—b­but now, I guess I like it a lot.”

“What happened this time last year?” Ace asked.

“Just some troubles,” Andy replied.

“Troubles can make you cynical,” said Ace. “The fraternity made me a bit cynical and so did studying law. And those two things were my favorite when I started college.”

“Anything can make you cynical,” Andy said.

“This conversation is making me cynical,” said Aubrey.

“I always thought you kind of were,” said Andy, kissing her on the cheek.

“Where's the old Andy?” Ace asked.

“What do you mean?”

“You're just, you know,” said Ace, “a little more vibrant.”

“I just like the quiet here,” said Andy. “It's, well, it's nice. It settles me.”

“Do you really think I'm cynical?” Aubrey asked Andy.

“Well, dear,” said Andy, with steel cojones, “your favorite writer is Ernest Hemingway, you like the depressing glow of Beach House, and your favorite show was ​Scrubs, but you always like to point out how the ending of that show wasn’t harsh enough on the characters.”

Aubrey looked shocked and then flattered and then somehow shocked again. “Beach House was nominated for a Grammy. ​Scrubs is great.”

“You thought the finale was too easy,” said Andy. “You thought that it was too clean.”

“Just from a critical perspective,” said Aubrey. “I like myself some happy vibes, but I also like to point out when a show takes the easy way out.”

“How is a happy ending the easy way out?” Andy asked.

“How is it not?”

They locked eyes and I thought that they were going to kiss, but they kept staring until Ace broke in. “I liked the ​Scrubs finale, if it matters.”

“Me too,” said Mary.

“You like ​Scrubs?” Ace asked.

Ace kissed Mary, who kissed him back without any trace of hesitation. Andy and Aubrey continued to look at each other. The fire dwindled and dwindled until there was nothing left to illuminate us but the moon and the reflection it cast off the trembling surface of Mansard Lake.

“I like a good TV show,” said Andy.

“I as well,” said Aubrey.

“Can't argue with that,” I said, raising my glass. I had no vision past our circle, only being able to see Ace and Mary as well as Aubrey and Andy gazing longingly at each other. I gazed longingly into my drink and thought about a girl I had a brief fling with the previous summer. I had met her during one of her getaway weekends with the girlfriends and she didn't sleep with me until she came back a few weekends later upon dumping her boyfriend. She talked about moving in with me a few weeks after that, probably around Fourth of July weekend, and I showed her the door in response to that proposal. But as I sat next to my four friends I thought twice about showing her the door and even convinced myself that saying yes to her wouldn't have been the most ludicrous decision I had ever made. I had made a lot of ludicrous decisions in my twenty­three years, and as I sat next to the fire ring and felt like an orbiting planet trespassing into a sacred galaxy of romance, I thought about both the girl I showed to the door and the amount of girls I hadn't called back. I didn't like calling people back unless it was Ace or James or Tommy or a few others. It just never seemed to make sense.

I told myself how cynical that sounded as soon as I thought it but made sure to keep it in my head because it seemed like the other four wouldn't want to be disturbed by such thoughts.

They seemed rather happy and content in their galaxy and I figured it would be a ludicrous decision to bring myself into that. So I sipped my drink and stewed in the temporary elation that comes when you stop yourself from making a ludicrous decision. It’s the little things, I thought to myself.

“I say we get a real nice boat day going,” said Ace. “Real soon. We haven't had one in a while.”

“Not since that one incident,” said Mary. Her voice hushed as she said it. “Lots of...lots of death around here. I don't like it that much.”

“It's what keeps me from slipping into total cynicism,” said Ace, to which I wanted to finish off my drink and pour another one so I wouldn't be so staggered by the word “cynical” being tossed around.

“If there was no ending to the book then why would you read it?” Ace continued.

“You have a way with words,” said Mary.

“Andy told me that one, actually,” said Ace. “It's even better when you give credit where it's due,” said Mary.

“You really can't do wrong, can you buddy?” Aubrey said to Ace. “I take it for granted,” said Ace. “Dad used to tell me that I could have the world wrapped around my finger. Mom would always agree with him on the condition that I don't act like it's wrapped around my finger.”

“Oh, paradoxes,” said Aubrey.

“They make things so damn simple sometimes,” said Ace. “It's all so perfect. Andy understands. We talked about it.”

“I guess,” said Andy. “But I'd rather not get into it. To­tonight, is—” He looked at Aubrey, who was stroking his hand like always “Tonight is a nice night.”

“Sometimes, nights can be anything but nice,” said Ace. “That's a paradox.”

“But tonight is a good night,” said Andy. “Tonight is a good night and as far as I'm concerned it's the only night we have.”

“Well,” said Ace. He reached into his shorts pocket and produced a cigarette book that had a joint in it. He turned to Mary. “Do you mind?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I actually wouldn't mind.”

Ace lit the joint and it went down the line. He continued on with Andy while I looked on and felt kind of invisible.

“I like tonight,” said Ace. “A lot has been on my mind lately. Mary, what about you?

How is your summer? How is your night? It was a great night to have a fire, surely?”

“Yes,” said Mary. She coughed, elegantly, and sent the joint down the line. She then curled up underneath Ace's broad shoulders. “It's a wonderful night and the summer is just great, but I really wish dad could visit.”

“I'm sure he will,” said Ace. “Don't be so sure,” said Aubrey.

“Knock it off,” said Mary.

“I don't want you barking up a tree of hope only to be dropped off,” said Aubrey, staring into the joint's cherry like she was looking for something yet avoiding the search altogether. It amazed me how Aubrey could do that and I realized in that moment that Andy was a fine fit for her.

“You were always the giddy one growing up, you know,” said Mary. She looked at all of us in turn. “I would come home with a Straight­A report card and be upset that somebody had

edged me out of being class valedictorian and Aubrey would sit there with a mix of Bs and As and just go over each class and what she found cool about it.”

“It's the climb, not the hilltop,” said Aubrey. She gave the joint to Andy. “I think Miley Cyrus said that.”

“Miley Cyrus,” said Andy, with a laugh. “I heard she did an album with The Flaming Lips and I haven't listened to it yet.”

“The Flaming Lips?” Ace asked.

“You don't know the Flaming Lips?” Aubrey asked with a whole lot of sassiness.

“I can't say I do,” said Ace. “Not really a hipster.”

“I don't like that word,” said Andy. “It's cool and all, but I don't think it's a good word.”

“Words are objective,” said Aubrey. “Some of the only objective things we have.”

“We have been talking deep for quite too long,” said Mary. “But I guess I don't mind.”

“You usually don't when you get all stoned,” said Aubrey.

“Maybe I should smoke a little more,” said Mary. “But it's just such a bad image.”

“Image is another thing,” said Aubrey. “Image and status. I don't like ​those words. I think that as long as you brush your teeth and make your appointments and contribute some sort of productive thought to your peers every now and again and kiss well enough and climb trees when you get the chance, then you're better off than most people.”

“I kiss pretty well,” said Andy to her. “R­right?”

Aubrey panned over to Andy with sultry eyes, grazed her hand across his arm, and kissed him gently on the cheek. “You're not bad.”

“Better than not good,” said Ace, raising his glass.

“Cheers,” I said.

“Yes, cheers, good idea Kiel,” said Ace. We toasted once more and the conversation died down. Eventually Mary led Ace inside, so I had Andy play me a Flaming Lips song. I have to say that even though it was a little soft for my taste, I enjoyed the mood that it set. It seemed perfect for a night under a foggy sky pierced only by a portrait­perfect moon that was often a little too large and imposing. Andy talked about that as well when I brought his attention to it, and he even connected the concept of the moon's size to a lyric from the song he was playing. Aubrey watched with bright eyes as we conversed and after a few long moments she was leading him inside as well. I was told I could take any open guest room and help myself to the kitchen and even the secret “emergency” stash of weed that Aubrey kept under the bar. I thought about taking her up on the offer, but instead I sat in the chair and finished another drink and tried to stumble up to the house before returning to the chair and passing out in front of the restless waters and flailing tree branches stirred up by the same wind. It was an alright night and I couldn't help but smile. It required a little more effort than usual, but I did it anyways.

Chapter 13

The week leading up to Ace's yearly Gatsby party kicked off with James waking me from a stupor at 8 a.m., flailing around the house in a rage. I tried to shield my ears from his rants, but it was futile, so I put my feet on the ground and powered through the pulsating headache. James was in the living room, brushing his teeth and getting dressed and making coffee all at the same time while stealing glances at the clock every few minutes.

“God damn fucking power outage,” he said, buttoning up his chef's coat. “Was supposed to be at work ten minutes ago but there was a power outage last night and my damn alarm clock reset. Damnit. DAMNIT.” “That sounds like a good enough excuse, you'd think,” I said. “Can I have some of that coffee?”

“Hell with the coffee,” said James.

“Excuse me?”

“First two weeks of this raise and I've been doing great, and now one power outage is going to fuck me, badly,” said James. He poured the coffee into a mug and tossed some ice cubes in before chugging it and breaking out a tin of smokeless tobacco. He put a pinch in his upper lip, wiped his face with a paper towel, and finished off the coffee. “This is just the best, I tell ya.”

“It's a power outage, they'll understand,” I said. I poured myself some coffee.

James gave me beady eyes, the type of eyes you see in horror movies, and looked into his coffee. He went still. “If I lose this raise, then I am back to square one, and I hate being at square

one, Kiel. My mom is going to be right and laughing all the way to the bank if I stay at square one.”

“Don't talk like that,” I said. “Parents are weird. But they usually love us.”

“I can't believe you're saying that,” James said. He threw his coffee mug at the wall and it shattered. “I can't believe I'm going to lose my raise based on a damned technicality.”

“They'll understand,” I said, making my way to the liquor cabinet in search of some Irish Cream or maybe even some crème de menthe. I tried not to be picky when I had a brutal hangover.

“When was your last morning shift?” he asked.

“Define morning,” I said.

“You know what I mean.”

“I like the night shifts. Jeff lets me work them.”

“I wish I could have the night shifts,” said James. He tried to pick up the pieces of the mug, but he tossed them back on the ground, went to the liquor cabinet, and poured some of my Irish Cream into his coffee.

“Showing up late is one thing,” I said. “Showing up drunk is another.”

“When was the last time you were sober at work?” he asked me.

“This isn't about me,” I said.

“My mom hates square one and she hates me too,” James said. “I hate her.”

“I think you're misdirecting.” I poured some of the Irish cream and it stymied the headache long enough for me to remember where I had left my morning joint that I had rolled the previous night. I reached under the couch, pulled it out, and lit it.

James paced back and forth in the kitchen and watched the clock. “Maybe I could just call in sick, say I've got the flu. That's a good excuse.”

“Or you could be honest and say it was a power outage,” I said.

“A power outage is a rather shitty excuse, you know?”

“I don't know. I haven't been late in a while,” I said, knowing full well that I had upwards of fifty undocumented tardies to my name.

“What are you doing today?”

“Couch day,” I said. “Couch day and maybe go take a few swings with Coop.”

“I could use a few swings,” said James. He rested his hands on the island and gave me a look. “I'm off at six. You wanna go play a round?”

“Does a bear shit in the woods?”

“Usually,” James said. “Depends on the bear.”

“I've never heard of a domesticated bear,” I said.

“Winnie the Pooh,” said James. “That's the last story my mom ever read to me. Then I was too old for her to read for me and then I wasn't good enough for her to do anything with me at all.”

“I know,” I said. “Meleene got four hundred out of me the other day. I'm sending more tomorrow. Things are kind of rough all over.”

“Is that an ​Outsiders quote?” James asked.

“I don't know,” I said. “Is that the book we read in middle school?”

“Yeah,” James said.

“Must be,” I said. “Andy said it to me one day and I liked it.”

“I like Winnie the Pooh,” said James. He poured another coffee with ice cubes and crème de menthe and guzzled it. “I like the Kenny Loggins song about Pooh.”

“I like that one too,” I said. “I also like ‘Danger Zone’.” “​Top Gun is a great movie, ain't it?” James said.

“It is,” I said. “I think there's a lot of great movies.”

“So Meleene got you for almost a half grand?”

“She needs an operation,” I said.

“Are you sure?” James asked.

I was a little bothered by his prodding, but I nursed the joint and exhaled the frustration.

“I guess it doesn't matter.”

“That's sad,” said James.

“Things are rough all over sometimes,” I said.

“You're not a literary person, Kiel,” said James. “Don't front like you are.”

“You should get to work,” I said.

“Golf around six­thirty?” he asked, a little more smoothed out after the spiked coffee.

“We shall,” I said.

“Stop talking like that,” said James. “You're not a proper person, Kiel. Don't front like you are.”

“You are an ass sometimes, you know that?”

“You're only stuck with me a little while longer,” he said, pulling on his overcoat and making his way towards the door with Mariah's keys in hand. James didn't have a car either. It was one of the few things I felt we still had in common.

“Good,” I said. “The sooner the better.”

“Now you're being an ass,” James said.

“I just want to see you get where you want to go,” I said.

“I want the same thing for you, Kiel,” said James. “I just wish you wanted something more than all of this, even a little.”

I looked into my coffee and my eyes must have looked quite somber because James took notice.

“You know what I meant,” he said.

“I do.”

“Golf at six­thirty?”

“Surely,” I said.

He was out the door. Moments later I saw Andy descend from the loft with another dusty novel in hand. He was wearing silk pajamas with a madras pattern and I thought they looked fashionable and sleek and tons of other words that I had picked up in Andy's presence.

“I­I heard something break,” said Andy.

“Just a mug,” I said. “James is late.”

“B­but, the raise,” he said.

“I think he'll be fine,” I said. “A power outage is understandable. The chef lives around here too so it's a good excuse.”

Andy had a grimace as he sat down next to me and turned on some of that good music I had been warming up to. “I did bad,” he said.

“What's that?”

“I did bad. Should I tell him?”

“Tell him what?” I asked.

Andy tapped his fingers on the novel and skipped through some songs before arriving on something by Radiohead that he seemed fond of. “Our surge protector thing behind the TV wasn't working last night.” He stopped and fidgeted with his novel some more. “So I went to the fuse box and reset it and I guess I forgot that it would probably reset his alarm clock.”

I offered Andy the joint mindlessly. It had become a habit. He actually took it this time, taking a small puff before exploding in a fit of coughing. Then he receded into the couch cushions and relaxed his hands atop the novel. “I feel bad.”

“He’s been quite the ass to you though,” I said.

“With good reason,” said Andy. His eyes relaxed for the first time since I had met him.

“With very good reason.”

“No, he’s usually just an ass sometimes,” I said.

“Do I tell him?”

“If you want to get closer to being kicked out, yeah,” I said.

“Can I get kicked out?”

“If James wants something bad enough, he’s probably going to do his best to make it happen. It’s good for some things but bad for a lot of things.”

“I just want to be friends with him,” said Andy. “We haven’t talked much, and I usually only like not talking to people if I choose not to talk to them.”

“I’d give you a toast on that one,” I said. “But you have no drink.”

“Shall I have a drink?”

“Do you want a drink?” I asked him.

“I’m not sure,” he said. “I’ve only had a handful of drinks in my life. I don’t think I’ve been drunk before and this is the first time I’ve been high.”

I looked at him. His pale face was blushing and his eyes were slowly making their way across the room, from the kitchen to the window looking out onto the fairway and all the way to the door and coat hangers to the right of us.

“You’re high?”

“Is this what it’s like to be high?”

“It’s different for everybody,” I said. “I don’t really get ​high anymore, I guess. I just kind of mellow out and get my thoughts about me.”

“My heart is racing,” he said.

“Deep breath,” I said.

He did so and didn’t complain about his heart after that.

“So...s­should I tell him?” he asked me again.

“I can’t make that call,” I said. “Do what you want to do.”

“Sometimes I don’t know what I want to do. A lot, actually,” Andy said.

“Maybe I should get you a drink and we can have a couch day and think about the James thing later,” I said, getting up to get Andy a drink. “What’ll ya have?”

“What tastes the closest to chocolate milk?”

“A lot,” I said, rifling through the cabinet. “But at the same time, a little.”

“Paradoxes,” Andy said.

“Yeah,” I said. “Those things.”

“Should I tell him?” Andy asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Let me think about it.”

I knew I probably wasn’t going to think much about it but I figured that saying that would be enough for Andy to calm down a bit and figure it out for himself. I thought of it as the best route to go. And his badgering wasn’t great on my hangover either.

~ I had called Coop right away about the twilight round. He picked us up at six­forty and we were teeing off at The Pines course a few miles outside of Mansard by six­fifty­five. Coop had called in a favor to get us on the track under the condition that we dressed sleeker than normal and walked it with him as our caddy. So we wore crisp collared shirts and actual golf shorts and shoes, and by seven o’clock James and I were lining up our shots into the first hole’s green which was tucked beneath a line of orchard trees guarding the entrance to an expansive and full­bodied forest. I forgot to wear shades, but Coop had an extra pair and they came in handy because the sun was so damn bright and hung way up in the sky in relation to how late it was in the afternoon. Coop said we could make a full­nine if we played swell and promised to help us net decent scores if we adhered to a hint or two and sank the close putts. Coop always liked to emphasize the short putt as golf’s most elusive shot. Sometimes I took it to heart and sometimes I was a little too lush to care.

“I think you should put it on the back­half of the green, Kiel,” said Coop. He smoked a cigar and rested a hand on each of our bags. “It’s about one hundred and ten, maybe grab a pitching wedge?”

“I can knock my sand wedge 110 yards this year, Coop,” I told him.

“Is that so?” Coop asked.

“It’s not,” said James. He stood behind me. His shoulders were tense and that concerned me, but I tried to focus on the shot and convincing Coop I had actually hit a sand wedge farther than one hundred and ten more than only a handful of times in my life. Coop was the type of golfer you felt the need to bluff at.

“Even if I catch it fat, it’ll be an uphill putt,” I said, grabbing my sand wedge before Coop stopped me and grabbed it himself and told me to focus on my shot and not the clubs.

“Any day,” said James.

I stuck with the sand wedge and caught it fat. The ball cratered into the grass twenty yards before the green. James chuckled. Coop merely smirked a bit and worked on his cigar. “I guess I still got it,” I said.

By the time the next hole—a deceiving dogleg par­5 pinched by a pair of swamps—came around, I had enough drinks in me to spend a little time on James. I didn’t like that he seemed so tense. He had been taking a few more jabs at me than usual and he wasn’t paying attention to the short putts and he definitely wasn’t checking his lie at least once before firing. James wasn’t a PGA prospect but he also wasn’t a scrub, he could golf a fair game and loved to play with Coop and I, or maybe tolerated is a better word. But James didn’t seem like he was tolerating anything.

“Hey, Scrooge, what the hell?” I asked him.

He was rifling through his bag while Coop was searching for a ball in the tree line beyond the tee box we stood on.

“Hey,” I said.

“What?” James asked.

“What’s your deal?”

“You get a little too buzzed sometimes,” said James. “Have you been to the doctor to check your liver? I can smell the rum from here.”

“Have you had your cock checked?” I said.

James glared real hard into me and made a big show of yanking an iron out of his bag.

“It’s just obnoxious.”

“Just trying to get a laugh,” I said.

“People don’t go outside when it’s raining,” said James, “so people shouldn’t laugh when there’s trouble floating around.”

“That’s so cynical,” I said.

“That’s not your word,” said James. “Copy­cat.”

“You’re five. ​And cynical,” I said. “​You’re cynical,” he said.

We high­fived. It was our rule to high­five instead of saying “touche.”

“But seriously,” I said. “What’s up?”

“I got a strike,” said James. “Chef said that most people don’t even get a second chance when they’re on provision for a raise, but he said that he was in a good enough mood to put me on a two­strike system.”

“Whoa,” I said.

James lined up his shot into the par­3 green far below our feet in a basin of marsh.

“What?”

“Your immediate future is kind of...hanging in the balance of your boss’s mood,” I said.

It was a thought that had clawed a little deeper than I was used to, so I grinned with pride when I said it.

“Dammit,” said James. He stepped back. “You’re right, and I hate being reminded that sometimes, you’re right.”

“Cynical...cynical,” I said.

“You need to knock it off with the c­word,” James said.

“You like to knock it off into the c­word,” I said.

“You need to slow down with the drinks,” he said.

“Maybe,” I said. I looked into the beer cooler we had lugged along and saw that only a pint of rum and a beer remained, to be split between the three of us. “Dibs on this beer though.”

“I hate you,” said James.

“I hate ​you,” I said, cracking the beer.

We high­fived. Coop found his way out of the woods. He advised us to hit the green in the lower right­hand corner and to imagine we were lobbing a baseball into the head of a volcano. I thought that to be a pretty good illustration and apparently so did James. We both hit the green and Coop sang praises at us on the way down the path and towards our shots. He looked around as we descended into the basin cloaked on all fronts by sturdy oak trees that reached towards the sun with even sturdier branches. The sky was a shade darker in the basin.

Coop scanned his surroundings and pulled a joint from his breast pocket and placed it between his lips.

“Michael comes back on Saturday,” said Coop. “Golf shop just kind of tells me right away now, they know I’d be asking weekly.” He sparked the joint and peeled down his sunglasses just enough to get a good look at the sun. “I can’t wish harm on no man, but, Lord, if I didn’t want that kid to tear a tendon or sprain an ankle or something. It’s awful and I feel bad about it boys, but, I have to tell ya, if he could even get something that would keep him off the course for another month, then maybe I’d be satisfied at the end of the month and be okay letting go of it.”

“Record’s safe, Coop,” James said.

“Bring out all the tough pins on Saturday,” I said.

We approached the modest bridge stretching over the marsh and onto the green. “I couldn’t do that,” Coop said, putting his shades back up. “I might say a prayer or two that I keep the record somehow but I won’t explicitly pray for pain on a boy and I won’t try to meddle with things that I have no business meddling in. It’s bad to meddle, boys,” he said. “It’s bad to meddle and I hope you know that.” He seemed spent and was starting to wheeze, so we stopped on the bridge and leaned against the bannister with him.

“I’m sorry,” said Coop. “I’ve been taking that record for granted for so many years and now that it’s gonna be gone soon, I just don’t know what I’ll be after that.”

“Still Coop,” I said.

“Yeah,” said James. “It’s a number.”

“It’s all numbers,” said Coop. “You can suck the life out of any number or letter or piece of art or memory and make it just a prop, but I don’t like that. There’s something cold about focusing on the numbers. It might be less hurt in the long run, but if you look at just the shell of it all for what it is then what’s the point of having so many years to go out and see things for yourself?”

“It’s just a number,” said James.

“Well I can’t fault you for thinking so,” said Coop. He looked at the floor of the bridge and for a second I was afraid he was going to fall to the ground. He sure looked spent. I wanted to help, but I also wanted to keep myself from falling off the banister.

“I’d like to play a round,” said Coop. He tapped his feet on the planks. “I’d have to play the whites because of my back and I might need to go to the putting green, but I’d like to play again someday.”

I pulled the putter from my bag and pointed its head towards my ball and then offered the club to Coop. “Now?” “Not yet,” said Coop. He didn’t even pay the club a glance.

“Why not?” I asked.

“There’s just a time for it and I don’t think it’s now.”

“Maybe,” I said. I opened the rum instead and put it beneath his nose. “​That, I can maybe do right now,” said Coop. He pulled on the rum and gave it back to me and we all walked towards the green. James missed his short putt and tapped in for par. I sunk mine after listening to Coop’s read and gave him a toast on the next tee box. We finished seven holes before a ranger came out and drove us in for the night. We probably could have

finished nine if I wouldn’t have been so tipsy, but I don’t really like to golf sober. James says that’s cynical, but I think he’s pretty cynical sometimes. I think we all are, which is kind of cynical in itself.

Chapter 14

It was the Wednesday before Ace’s party and he was collapsed in the corner of my living room. We were told to be at the Anne residence for our boat day by noon, but it was thirty minutes past that and I was sitting next to Ace in the corner of my living room while the sun cast a crystal glow just outside the window. It seemed dim in the house. I hadn’t had enough to drink to deal with Ace, but I gave it my best.

“This was last night?” I asked, swishing around a Long Island and taking sips here and there. I wanted to pace myself. James’s words from our round with Coop had crept up on me.

“Late,” said Ace. “It was late, past my damn shift. Three this morning, probably.”

“Shit,” I said. “Was Mary around?”

“Had the night off. She was expecting me,” said Ace. “I made some bullshit excuse and she bought it because she trusts me. But I let some wayward gal convince me I should walk her back to her cabin. And obviously…”

“Yeah, you really pulled the wool over on this one,” I said. I drank and looked around the room in a trance. “Was she a good lay at least?”

“You’re a cynical bastard,” Ace said. “I basically cheated.”

“When did that word become so popular?”

Ace was mum. I got another drink and when I returned to my seat he was giving me a type of look that he had only given me when Leo didn’t win the Oscar for ​The ​Wolf of Wall Street, except ten times worse. He then produced a letter from his pocket and put it on my lap.

It was a subpoena for the Jordan ordeal.

“I thought the resort didn’t disclose who served him?”

“To my knowledge, management kept their mouth shut as much as they could.”

“Weird,” I said. “How bad is this?”

“Maybe a warning. Maybe prison time. Maybe The Lounge gets in deep for not reporting it was me if there turns out to be hard proof it was me and it was definitely my fault.

What I want to know is why NOW, all of a sudden?” Ace snatched the letter from me, tore it in two, and set it aside.

“You might need that,” I said.

“Reminders of crimes against fellow men aren’t good,” Ace said. “Especially when I’m fresh off a crime against a woman I like quite a bit.”

“But you and Mary aren’t ​official, or whatever they call it,” I said. “You haven’t agreed to being exclusive. Isn’t that what you’re doing this Saturday?”

“Gentlemen don’t rationalize, Kiel,” said Ace. “Haven’t I taught you anything in our years? Gentlemen don’t rationalize when they betray a woman they love and they certainly don’t contribute to the demise of their fellow gentlemen.”

“Love?”

“Love.”

“It’s been...what? A little over a month?”

“Some things you just ​know, Kiel,” said Ace. He flailed about in a tantrum long enough for me to get another sip in. Ace rarely had tantrums, but when he did they were brief and exhausting.

“Some things you just know,” he said. “Haven’t I taught you anything? You could be me, you know. You’re pretty good looking, you have a wit to you, you’re nice. But you just don’t care.”

“I care about you guys and sometimes I care about the women for a night or two and after that it just becomes too much work to care,” I said between sips of my drink. “I care about golf and Lynyrd Skynyrd, too. You can only care about so much.”

Ace looked at me. “Have you ever gone into a jewelry store just to notice a particular watch above and beyond all of the other watches in the store?”

“I don’t believe I own a watch,” I said.

“I really ​haven’t taught you anything,” said Ace. “Anyways, you ever go into a shop and see a particular watch that just ​beams in the sun or your porch lights or even the bathroom mirror and it’s never not shining and it fits so well against your wrist and always gives you the exact time and never dents or chips on you, and if it dents or chips then the repair is always cheap?”

“Sounds like a good watch,” I said.

“And this watch is cheap,” said Ace. “Not cheap in its worth but cheap in its cost. The watch just wants you to wear it and appreciate it and it’s so easy because you’ve seen so many watches and even thought about buying one or two, but you held out for the watch that’s ​just right, and then you find it and it’s just ​right.”

“I can’t say I relate,” I said.

“Especially when the watch dresses like she just came from the country club without the smugness and drives a Chevy with an American flag steering wheel cover and appreciates Vineyard Vines and owns a ‘Reagan/Bush ‘84’ t­shirt a size too big for her—you know when

girls wear a nice bikini and a shirt a size too big and big sunglasses and they just look more appealing than anything else in the world—even a nice Long Island on the course?” said Ace. He snatched my drink and took a swig.

“Don’t slide back down the hill,” I said to him, retrieving my glass. “You’ve been holding your own in the booze pretty well.”

“It’s been tiring,” Ace said. “I’ve had to pop uppers here and there just so I can stay above water when drinking with you guys, but I’ve toned it back, and right now all I want is a drink and to lie next to Mary and ask her what she actually thought about the Reagan administration.”

I fetched myself a banana from atop the fridge, looked out into the fairway, and watched an overdressed and middle­aged man catch a ball way too fat and throw his club in disgust. “So you’ve lied next to her, huh?”

“Nothing more than that,” said Ace. “She’s holding out and it makes me admire her more. It’s a cliché. But I’m cynical sometimes about those clichés. It’s so constructed sometimes, Kiel, this thing we call life and love and the bullshit that orbits around it.”

“Seriously,” I said. “When did cynical become such a big thing?”

“When did you become so detatched from it all?”

“Fair,” I said. I went and sat next to him. “I think you’ll be fine.”

“Last year this time was a different side of the coin, brother,” said Ace. “Brother?”

“Yeah, that’s what you are,” he said.

“Cool,” I said.

“Do I tell her?”

“I’m not the one to ask,” I said. “After all, you haven’t taught me anything.”

“I’ve taught you more than most,” said Ace. “Still older than you,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” he said after releasing a deep breath.

“Are you going to ask Mary at the party on Saturday?”

“To be my girlfriend? Yes,” said Ace. “I want to today, but I won’t. I can barely wait, and it’s weird because the script was flipped in college.”

“Yeah,” I said. “Hayward this fall?”

“I might go,” Ace said. “Maybe I’ll take some time off.”

“You can’t stick around here for too long,” I said.

“Pot and kettle,” Ace said. “They’re both black here, ya know?”

“It’s different for me,” I told him. “If I end up going to school it’s gonna be so I can maybe run a resort or at least manage one someday. Being here is just a resume builder. On your end, you can’t learn much about law here,” Ace eyed the tattered letter from the state. “Apparently you can.”

“You’re going to be fine,” I said.

“What if I’m not?”

“That’s not the Ace attitude” I said.

“The Ace attitude is tiring sometimes, Kiel. Somedays I just want to be Jackson.”

“Don’t go schizoid on me,” I said.

“You know what I mean,” he said. “Should we get over to the Anne’s?”

“Sure.” I gathered my things. “Can we stop at a bank so I can send a wire?”

“A wire? Do you also want to visit the speakeasy and go spend some time at the phone bank for FDR?” “I think I get that joke,” I said. “But I think I would get it more if I had another drink.

Which, I mean, if a speakeasy is on the agenda…”

“You’ve been quite an ass lately, Kiel,” said Ace. “I like it sometimes, but sometimes I don’t.”

I was pouring another drink and looked at him when I had topped it off. “Fair.” ~ “I was talking to the chef this morning,” said James, lighting a cigarette and leaning back into Mariah’s arms as we sat aboard the Anne’s vessel. Mansard Lake was calm that afternoon.

“And Chef, you know Chef Joe?” He turned to Mary and Aubrey. They were barely paying attention, so they nodded and returned to their respective men. Ace was piloting the boat and Andy sat close by.

James pressed on in his gin­fueled bliss. “And I tell Chef Joe, he’s rather quiet, but I tell him that when I get out of Mansard I might actually miss The Lounge. The nights doing up pizzas until three in the God­damned morning and staring into a stack of thirty tickets yet to be started and the bullshit and the stolen smoke breaks, and you wanna know what he says to me?”

Mariah stroked his shoulder. “What’s that?”

“He says he’s gonna miss me too. He told me that he’s always respected me because I break the mold of a typical line cook.”

“How’s that?” I asked. I wanted to excuse myself to the other end of the boat, but I felt that I was better suited listening to James.

“He says that all line cooks are lazy bums who sit around and smoke weed on the smoking dock and smoke weed out of vaporizers in the bathroom and smoke weed in the freezer and just are always smoking weed. And, now, mind you, Chef Joe hates weed,” he said.

“I know,” I said. I did. I hadn’t spoken many times to Chef Joe over the years because he was rarely around when I was, but I had heard about his very strict anti­pot schtick and thought it was kind of funny. I had never met a line cook or even sous chef that hadn’t been a passionate fan of the green stuff.

“Couple weeks left,” said James. “We should celebrate. Hyanisport? No, I already suggested Hyanisport and you guys weren’t feeling it. Lighthouse Pointe?”

“If you wanna bathe yourself in the presence of wide­eyed tourists, sure,” said Ace, keeping his shaded stare on the lake unfolding before us.

“We do that here,” said James.

“But we get paid,” said Ace. “Cheers to that,” said James.

They raised their glasses to each other.

“This lake is almost as gorgeous as the Loch,” said Mary. She swept her eyes all about the lake, waving to fellow boaters and relaxing in her seat next to Ace with a fancy­looking cocktail in her hand.

“You’ve been to the Loch?” Andy asked.

“Spring Break last year,” said Mary. “Aubs and I and a few other friends from school.”

“Wanted to find him,” said Aubrey. She was more stoned than usual, resting her head on Andy’s shoulder.

Andy’s posture stiffened and his eyes lit up like firecrackers. “Nessy?”

“Yeah,” said Aubrey.

“You believe?” Andy asked.

“I have to,” said Aubrey. “I find that life is awfully boring when you don’t believe in the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Had no idea facts were boring,” said Mary. It wasn’t a snippy tone, but it wasn’t the most polite either.

“There’s enough room for facts ​and lore,” said Aubrey.

“What about Bigfoot?” Andy asked.

“I’m actually undecided on Bigfoot,” Aubrey said.

“I’ve got a few cool documentaries,” said Andy.

“And I’ve got plans for the night now,” said Aubrey. She kissed Andy on the cheek. He was a statue for a moment and then carefully rested his hand on her thigh.

“So, traveler?” Ace asked, keeping his eyes on the waters while guiding Mary into him with an arm.

“I try to,” said Mary. “Isn’t seeing everything you possibly can a fundamental craving as a human?”

“For some places,” said Ace. “Loch Ness? I’d go to Loch Ness. Should we go to Loch Ness, Kiel?”

“Maybe,” I said. The conversation was swirling around me in a watered­down pitch. I felt a little dizzy so I tried shutting my eyes and imagining I was on a smooth­cruising space shuttle, but that made it even worse, so I just grabbed a beer instead.

“Where wouldn’t you go?” Mary asked Ace. “Depends,” he said. “It all usually depends. I wouldn’t go to Haiti unless it was a mission trip for church or something. I’d go to Nepal, but probably just for the mountains.”

“The mountains are quite nice in Nepal,” said Mary.

“Nepal too?”

“I’ve been a few places,” said Mary. “Dad traveled a lot when we were young.”

“Is he still overseas?”

Mary nodded. “Probably for a while yet.”

“I hope to meet him,” said Ace. “A stockbroker is a lawyer but with steel cojones, they say.”

“Yeah,” said Aubrey. “I guess you could call it that.”

“Aubrey, for God’s sake...” said Mary.

“Chill,” said Aubrey.

Ace slowed the boat, subtly. “What is going on?”

“Dad’s just having some issues,” Aubrey said. “I’m just being real about it. I love dad to death and he’s a great man, but he’s having issues, and you can’t treat that shit like the Loch Ness Monster.”

“Ladies don’t cuss,” said Mary.

“You’re kind of being a bitch,” said Aubrey.

“You can’t just shut it off,” said Mary. She was glaring right through Aubrey, who was paying no mind to anything but the mist dousing the hand she had stretched over the edge of the boat.

“Agree to disagree,” said Aubrey. “Ace, can you stop the boat?”

Ace smiled. “That’s an alright idea.”

“Don’t stop the boat,” said Mary. “I like cruising.”

“I could go for a swim, dear,” said Ace. “It’s lovely out today.” He found a secluded spot of the lake where there wasn’t another boat for hundreds of feet, tucked in the cove of a small bay. “I say it’s deep enough here. Maybe twenty­five feet.”

“Fine,” said Mary. Ace ripped his shirt off and dove in, emerging seconds later with beaming eyes. “The water is fine, Miss Anne. The water is fine.”

She leaned over to meet him and they kissed.

“Come on in,” said Ace. “I just don’t feel like swimming.”

“Foolish,” said Ace. He kissed her again. “Get in.”

“I just can’t,” said Mary.

“You ​can. You just ​won’t.”

“You’re a pre­law major, not English.” she said.

“Not anymore he’s not,” said James.

Mary looked at James and then at Ace. “What is he talking about?”

Ace reached up and pulled her in. They were kissing deeply when they surfaced.

Mary panted. “The water.”

Ace kissed her.

“The water is nice,” she said.

“You’re nice,” said Ace. “Don’t be coy with me, Mister Hunt.”

“Don’t be sassy with me, Miss Anne.”

“I’ll be sassy if I want to, you know.”

“I’ll be coy if I want to, you know.”

“You’re so awful sometimes, Jackson.”

“As you were, Miss Anne.”

Ace submerged himself again and Mary flailed as he played with her feet.

We swam in the cozy waters of Mansard Lake for an hour and afterwards went to Captain Jack’s for drinks and appetizers. It was a few miles west of Mansard Point, tucked away in a nook of lakeside woods. The patio knelt before a group of oaks and there was a human­sized parrot statue greeting people as they walked in.

“I like a good Cosmo,” said Mary. A waiter dropped our drinks off, placing a glass of red before Mary. “But wine is good. I like wine. Isn’t wine good?”

“I like wine,” said Ace. He was delivered a dark beer. “But then again, who doesn’t?”

“Wine is occasional,” said James. He had a T&T and seeing him sip it made me want one. I loved gin in tonic or OJ. Straight­up was a different story. So is life.

“Alcohol is occasional,” Mary said. “It seems like if you drink outside the weekends and the summer, you’re in too deep.”

“Good thing it’s summer,” said Ace. “Should we get the platter? Cheese curds?”

“That’s so Midwestern,” said Mary. She had pearls around her neck and a blank expression. Her words were hard­boiled. “I like Midwestern though.”

“The Midwest is nice,” said Ace. “A gentleman switches up his dialect, Mister Hunt.”

“The Midwest is fine.”

“Better.”

They kissed. I could tell that the rest of our party wasn’t too keen on it but it didn’t really bother me. Anything to keep Ace from drinking his liver into oblivion and ending up in the corner of my living room with a gallon of tears in his eyes.

“Th­the party is Saturday, is it not?” Andy asked. He sipped his chocolate milk.

“Saturday at seven­thirty­seven,” said Ace. “Might need your help with setting up.”

“I will,” said Andy, rather hastily.

“It’s going to be a good time. It always is. Guest list is at fifty. Might push it to seventy­five,” said Ace. “It’s the one weekend of the year where I KNOW the folks won’t be stopping by randomly. I’ve put on two of these now and they’ve gone so smooth.”

“I say keep it at fifty,” said James. “That’s the seven of us and then maybe some decent colleagues and maybe Tommy and Donny.”

“Tommy and Donny are for sure,” said Ace. “Tommy can work a grill and Donny is always sober. You need a sober person at a party, you know?”

“Gatsby was sober,” said Mary.

“I don’t buy it,” said Ace. “Fitzgerald was just lying.”

“You can’t lie in fiction,” said Mary.

“Fiction ​is lying,” said Ace. He stroked her hair and raised his glass. “A toast? To Fitzgerald?”

“I like Hemingway,” said Andy. “Aubrey turned me onto him.”

“To all of them,” said Ace. “You’re beating the toast to death,” said Aubrey.

Ace set his drink down. “Who’s your favorite writer Aubrey? Hemingway?”

“I like Joyce and Hemingway. Oh, and Faulkner. Though he gets a little Victorian sometimes. Too purple.”

“Purple?” Ace asked.

“Too much,” said Andy. “Purple is pretentious and too much.”

“Pretentious is pointing out what pretentious is,” said James. His glass collided firmly with the table and he straightened his collar. Then he shot daggers at Andy.

The table was silent. I gestured James inside as the waiter came around to get our appetizer orders. I pulled him into the bathroom and cornered him in the stall.

“So this is the day that I get sexually assaulted,” said James. He was pretty messed up off the T&Ts. “Stop being an ass,” I said. “You just need to lay off Andy.”

“I don’t like him,” said James. “I don’t mind him. Well I do, but it’s not like I really don’t like him. I mean I don’t think he’s good, but I don’t hate him, but he represents everything I fucking hate and that’s why I don’t like him Kiel. So buzz off, why don’t you?”

“He dresses nice. Get over it,” I said.

“I bet his parents paid for his clothes. And that car.”

“You’re 23,” I said. “Act like it. You’re messing up my buzz here.”

“You’ve had enough buzzes.”

“You’ve killed quite a few.”

“I’ll be out your hair, soon.”

“I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Mom wanted me to dress like Andy and be her little New England colonial prep school boy.”

“Let’s not talk about moms.”

“I wanna talk about moms.”

“Is your mom employed?”

“Yeah.”

“Was your mom hooked on the pipe?”

“No.” “I want you to shut it about your mom and enjoy the weather. That’s what I do.”

“Not everybody can do things like you do, Kiel.”

“Yeah, like that one time you asked me where the G­spot is,” I said.

“That was high school for God’s sake,” said James. He kicked the bathroom stall and sat on the toilet, face in his palms. “What on earth am I doing?”

“Being a piss ant,” I said.

“Go to hell.”

“Already there, ​right now.”

We high­fived.

“I’d like another drink,” he said.

“Don’t we all.”

“Think you can cool down the table while I go grab a drink from the bar?”

“Sure.”

I excused myself and found the table. “James is just a little tight right now, he’ll be fine.”

Mariah settled in her seat. “Is he...okay?”

“Yeah. Just tight,” I said. “He expresses his sincerest apologies.”

Ace was having a close­up, hush­hush exchange with Mary while Andy and Aubrey were pointing out landmarks of Captain Jack’s to each other. After James came back with another T&T, they snapped back into it.

“After the apps, let’s get a fire going,” said Ace. “How about a night on the town? I haven’t seen much of the town,” said Mary.

“Have you been to the resort?”

“Of course.”

“Then you’ve seen it.”

Mary shook her head. “No, that can’t be. There’s more to this town, there’s always more to a town.”

“Your insistence is heartwarming,” said Ace. “I just don’t think it’s worth your precious time.”

“Try me,” said Mary. She slipped her index finger onto his finger and gave him a fiery look.

“Okay, okay,” said Ace. He turned to us. “A night on the town, guys?”

“Might not make it,” said James. He rested his head on Mariah’s shoulders.

“Okay. Mariah?” Ace asked.

She shook her head and grazed James’s hair with her hand.

“Okay. Kiel?”

“I shouldn’t,” I said.

“Nonsense,” said Ace. “Stop dropping out of stuff.”

“I just think I should get some rest after this,” I said.

“Please come,” said Mary. I hadn’t spoken to her enough to tell for sure, but in that moment I felt like she was at her most serious. “The more, the merrier.”

“Sure,” I said. “I’ll need to switch to Vodka­Red Bulls.”

“I won’t lie,” said Ace. “Helluva sacrifice.”

“I remember high school,” said Aubrey. She giggled and I played along ‘cause Aubrey never meant things like that and Vodka­Red Bulls ​were quite the high school drink, after all. ~ I had a few of those Vodka­Red Bulls and a couple of Jag Bomb shots to boot before we loaded up Mary’s SUV and set off towards the outskirts of Mansard Point. There was third row seating, so I found myself sprawled out in the back with a beer in my hand while Ace drove us through the ins and outs of town. The stars were tucked beneath a blanket fog and we could barely see the moon. The roads were quiet and humming beneath the tires of the SUV and I felt alright in my stomach. Ace was a good driver, even when he was a little liquored up.

“Where is there to go in this town?” I could hear Mary ask.

“Well we have the resort, and Captain Jack’s, town square, the golf course, the liquor store, your house…,” said Ace. “Where haven’t I been?”

“Jones’ Bay,” Ace said.

“Jones’ Bay?” “Jones’ Bay. But it’s for the veterans of Mansard Point, you know.”

“I don’t know if I’ll be back next summer,” said Mary. “So, oh well.”

“We’ll get there, if you’re good.”

“Lot of talk of being good from such a bad boy.”

“Are you flirting with me, Miss Anne?”

“Are you acceptant of this flirtation, Mister Hunt?”

Aubrey made a gagging sound. We laughed. She was cold­blooded with that kind of stuff. ~

There was a crowd lighting off fireworks in the bay across the lake from us and the crackling colors draped themselves across the sky in such a fashion that it didn’t seem so late at night. Each eruption was chased with drunk cheers drowned out, if only slightly, by the faint buzz of boats trolling close by and the crickets playing their tunes. We sat on a picnic bench on the outskirts of the modest beach leading into the bay. Ace had a cooler next to him and was passing around pulls and beers.

“I never heard the end of the William Shatner story,” Mary said.

“Soon,” said Ace. Another firework went off, this time shaped like an American flag. Ace toasted to that.

“I find it hard to have the best night ever repeatedly from a logical standpoint,” he said.

“But…” We were all waiting. Ace was studying the fireworks as they dissipated into the sky and finally snapped out of it. “What?”

“But…,” said Mary.

“Oh. I didn’t have a follow up,” said Ace. Aubrey and Andy had gotten up and returned and we had barely even noticed it. She was holding a Frisbee in her hand and Andy seemed drunk at the sight of all the fireworks and the few boats milling about peacefully.

Ace got a glance of the Frisbee. “You throw, Aubrey?”

“Casually,” she said. “Do you catch?”

“I don’t go before my own name.”

“Yes you do,” said Aubrey. She sent a tight wrister into Ace’s breadbasket. He caught it, barely.

“She calls you on your shit,” I said. I got to my feet. Frisbee was always a blast with a few brews bouncing around in my stomach.

“Go,” said Ace. I galloped out to a grassy knoll that rose from the beach and snagged the disc out of the sky. It had been far too long since I had a good game of anything but golf. Ace finally got Mary off the picnic table and into throwing the Frisbee around with us and we had a good go of

it, using the fireworks for lighting. Eventually the drunk kids across the bay finally ran out of ammo and the sky receded to a velvet black. When the cooler was dry, Ace fetched some more stuff for drinks in town. I was sitting on the picnic table with a joint in between my fingers when Mary found me.

“Hi,” she said.

“Hi,” I said.

“You know the feeling when you’re at the theater to see a movie you’ve been anticipating for​ ever and you’re just sitting in your seat, not sure if you want to see it yet?”

I turned to face her after gazing out at the lake for a little too long for my liking. “Can’t say I do.”

“My apologies, that’s awful conversation,” She removed her ball cap and let her brunette locks spill out. “Not the best starter.”

“Never been a giant fan of small talk anyways,” I said. “​Everybody is talking about the weather.”

“The weather is a proper topic,” said Mary. “But sometimes, there’s a lot more on the mind.”

“I try to keep it simple,” I said. “Doesn’t usually work out, living around here with Ace and everybody.”

“Is he not simple?”

“He’s a complicated type of simple,” I said.

“That’s contradictory.”

“It makes sense when you think about it.”

“I think he’s quite a nice guy,” said Mary. “Gentleman. Class. All that stuff that looks really good to the dads and on paper.”

“You like him, huh?” I said.

“Does he know?”

“I think he has an idea.”

“I ​do. And I haven’t even spoke much to you, and it’s just awful that I’m trying to talk about your best friend without even getting to know more about you.”

“I don’t mind,” I said. “There’s not too much to know right now. I kind of like it that way.”

“Surely there’s some things,” said Mary.

“I hate to burst your bubble, Mary,” I said. “Like I said, I like simple.”

“What do you want to be?”

“That’s always the go­to,” I said.

“Hmm?” “People like to ask that question.”

“Everybody has a dream.”

“I don’t sweat the bills,” I said. “I don’t sweat being able to get buzzed at my leisure. I don’t sweat breakups or problems at work or finding a buddy to hit the golf ball around with.

Sometimes it gets a little tight in the winter and I have to slow down on the beer but I’ve always had food on my table. Even if it’s greasy Lounge leftovers.”

Mary gave me a once over with her eyes and locked her hands. “Is that a dream?”

“I know it’s not the most flattering path,” I said. “I spent a lot of time not having food on the table. I like knowing that as long as I’m here, I won’t have that issue.”

“But what of meeting someone?”

“They come and go through here this time of year,” I said.

“Kiel, that’s no way to live.”

I was about to point out how Ace lived that lifestyle more so than myself but figured it was a thought best kept in my head.

“I’m turning 23 at the end of the summer,” I said. “I’m young.”

“I guess it’s just a little different. I never had to think about if food was going to be on the table or if the car note was going to be paid. I never even had to ask for extra money for anything. A day in my life.”

“That’s not so bad,” I said. “A lot of people get mad when people can do that, but I think it’s a waste of time to be so caught up in what other’s have or don’t have.”

“It kind of ruined me,” said Mary. “I tried to not be the ​bitch. That was my only thing when I turned sixteen and had a Mercedes sitting in my driveway and was wearing a $2,000 designer romper and dad threw a huge party with all of the arranged friends I had in Manhattan.

I looked at the Benz and all of these people who were my friends because we both got luxury sedans for our birthdays and I told myself that as long as I wasn’t a ​bitch about it, I’d be fine.”

I didn’t interject, but rather exhaled my puff and gave Mary a nod.

“But now I’m going into my fourth year,” she said. “Political Science and Corporate Finance. Even a minor in English. Private school, everything paid for. Dean’s List. And I have no idea what I can dream for anymore.”

“There’s tons of careers for those,” I said. “Maybe I don’t know much, but those all sound like wonderful fields.”

“My dad went the corporate finance route. A little of political science, too. Think he minored in that. Went to Cornell and then Columbia for grad school and the political science caught up with him and he wined and dined with some senators early on. He’s always talking about running for something. But I think the politics did him in. They say money corrupts, and well, dad…” Her voice trailed off as the smoke in my lungs settled and Mansard Lake’s swirling waters became louder in my ear.

“What about him?”

“Mom told me some stuff. He messed up, Kiel. I don’t really know how big or what’s going on, and I was supposed to get a call tonight about it, but I know it’s bad. I really just try to ignore it but I know that’s not right.”

“I’m sorry,” I said.

“And I called a few of my friends from back at college and they didn’t even return my calls. It’s weird how few friends you actually have when you’ve had people surrounding you your entire life.”

“You have friends around here,” I said. “You have Aubrey.”

“I love Aubrey, really,” said Mary. “But she’s off in the clouds. She always was. Good student, still. She takes care of her stuff but she’s just never really been tied down to feeling these things. Or at least she doesn’t talk about them directly, she’s always using some sort of metaphorical gibberish.”

“Talking is hard for some people,” I said.

“Sometimes I can get Ace to go on and on and sometimes he’s just quiet and cordial.”

“Sounds like a typical guy,” I said.

“It’s always the right thing, though,” said Mary. “He’s ​so good at saying the right thing at the right time. Sometimes it seems like a game.”

“You think so?”

“He knows what to say and how to say it and when to say it, and if that’s not a politician then I honestly don’t know what is. My dad is a politician. My friendships were political.

Most of them still are. Ulterior motives, games, all that garbage you see most teenage girls complaining about online. But it’s out there. It’s apparent.”

“I don’t think Ace is enough of a shrew to be in politics,” I said. “He’s got a good heart.”

“You’ve known him for what now? Three years?”

“Almost four, I think,” I said. “He’s a smooth talker sometimes, but he’s got a good heart.”

“I just, I ask him about his dad and mom and he doesn’t talk about it. Family, school, his dreams. He’s all vague and silver­tongued about it but when it gets down to it, he’s closed­off behind that smartass grin of his.” Mary let herself laugh. “I came here because I wanted to get past all the politics and I just don’t know if that’s what Ace is. I’ve had a few bad cases of heartbreak and they were all political.”

“I might never associate politics with anything good again after this,” I said, ashing the joint and letting my blurry vision settle.

She looked at me. “Can I trust him?”

“Hm?”

“Ace. He said that I’m his girl. That he wants to be with me someday soon.”

“I think he does,” I said. “Almost positive.”

“I would never ask you to betray your friend,” said Mary. “But I’m sick of not knowing about this. I know he has girls crawling over him at the bar and how easy it would be to sneak out back here and there.”

I reached in my pocket for the second joint that I was almost completely damn sure I had rolled prior and it was nowhere to be found. Then I looked at the lake and it felt like time froze for a bit, so I looked back over to Mary. “I haven’t heard of anything.”

“You’re so nice, Kiel.”

“Thank you, Mary.”

We sat in silence as I mourned by my lack of another joint but was soothed by the sound of Aubrey and Andy approaching from the beach. Ace pulled in shortly after, driving Mary’s SUV with impressive precision considering the booze in his system. He joined us at the table with a couple more bottles and a case of beer.

“Got in five minutes before the liquor store closed,” he said. “They had just mopped. I hate ruining people’s nights.”

“Beer sounds really good,” said Aubrey, who grabbed two and ushered Andy towards a tree guarding the forest line behind us.

Ace cracked one for himself. “What of the rest of the evening?”

“I like this spot,” said Mary. She put her head on his shoulder. “Maybe stay here?”

“I could grab some tents and make it work. Or just some sleeping bags. I don’t think we’re supposed to camp here, but the cops won’t be saying anything to me.”

“Maybe another night, soon,” said Mary. “We’ll get home eventually. It’s not like we have a curfew. Do you think I could back my car in?” Mary asked. “I want to play some music.”

“I could certainly,” said Ace. “I want to show you how a ​real driver parks.”

“Nonsense, you’ve been drinking,” said Ace. “So protective.”

“Only looking out for you.”

“Much obliged, Mister Hunt,” she said, snatching the keys off the picnic table. “I’m a big girl, though.”

She skipped to her vehicle and climbed in. I saw some headlights panning towards us from up the road a ways and Mary must have not looked before backing up because her bumper collided with a truck’s fender. There was a harsh crunching noise and then tons of yelling. A couple of men ticking middle age hopped out of the truck.

“I am ​so sorry,” said Mary.

“Let me see your insurance card,” one of them said.

“Please,” said Mary. “I will pay for it, this can’t go on my—” I couldn’t see the two men perfectly clear but they looked they were the type of guys that were single in their thirties and hated the world because of it.

One of them stiffened up. “Do I have to call the cops?”

“Oh, ​gosh no,” said Mary. Ace came to her side.

“That little ding ain’t cheap,” one of them said, spitting tobacco juice on the ground.

“Do I smell booze?”

One of them leaned in close to Mary, sniffed, and recoiled with a shoddy grin. “Smells kinda like beer if you ask me, Hotchy, why don’t you give the cops a call if this pretty little number doesn’t want to co­operate.”

Ace stepped forward gently, outstretching his hand to the one that wasn’t named Hotchy.

“Hey, Jackson Hunt, nice to meet you.” His tone was swift and punchy.

“Darren.”

“Hotchy.”

They both gave his hand a shake and turned back to their bumper. Hotchy was the driver, apparently. “Your girl done fucked up, Jackson. If she doesn’t want to get the cops here and get this documented, how the hell am I supposed to pay for it?”

Ace surveyed the jacked­up truck and retrieved a number from his phone. “Alright.

Here’s the deal.” He returned to face the two, front and center. “That little scratch there is gonna cost nothing in parts and about two hours of shop labor to get squared away. We’re talking three hundred bucks worth of labor. If you go through the adjuster, we both know it’s gonna be much more.”

“That’s the point,” Hotchy said.

“Stressful night, stressful night,” said Ace. He went to Mary’s truck and pulled out a bottle of whiskey and offered it to Hotchy. “Let’s just take a step back, you guys want a drink?”

Hotchy snatched the bottle and took a big swig before passing it to Darren. “Still doesn’t change the dent in my car.”

“Hotchy, you said, right?”

Hotchy took another swig and passed it to Darren. “Yeah, kid. What’s it to ya?”

“Relax,” said Ace. “Let’s just chill out here for a second. That’s a nice truck, a real nice truck. Dad used to drive one like it. I like what you did with it.”

The bottle went around their three­ring circle as Ace fed some more vague compliments to Hotchy. Darren observed the scene with milky and glaring eyes.

“That’s a nice ding,” said Hotchy. He took another gulp and staggered over near the dent.

“Yeah, that’s a shame,” said Ace. “I know a guy with a body shop around town. I can make some calls. He can get that dent fixed up for free.”

“Nice gesture,” said Hotchy. He sipped on the whiskey some more. “But, I really think the adjuster should see it.”

“Sure,” said Ace. He took a peek into the truck bed and recoiled quickly. “You guys go fishing today?”

“Yeah, we made quite the haul,” said Hotchy. “I think there’s like 25 bass in that bucket back there, maybe 11 trout.”

“Interesting,” said Ace. Darren passed the whiskey over to Hotchy. “What’s it matter?”

“Well,” said Ace. “I’m really good pals with some of the guys from the DNR around here, and I’m pretty sure you guys are pushing that daily limit for fish.”

“That coulda been from a few different days,” said Hotchy, giving the whiskey a ride.

“Those fish could be in there from all week, you know.”

“I think the DNR knows what a freshly harvested trout looks like,” said Ace. “But I mean, we can get the cops down here too and they would certainly breathalyze you if I asked politely.”

Hotchy looked down at the bottle and tossed it away towards the beach. “You sonnova bitch.”

“I can get you the number for the body shop. Or you can leave in a squad car with a DUI. Your call.”

Hotchy’s eyes narrowed into a glare. “You’re an asshole.”

“And you just lost those body shop privileges. So get out of here, or I’m calling the cops.”

Hotchy gestured to Darren. They boarded the truck and took off in a tear.

“Ace,” said Mary. She came to his side.

“Yeah?”

“That was incredible.”

He gave her a kiss on the forehead and went to retrieve the whiskey bottle. “People can be so stupid. So, so, so stupid.” ~ A few hours later I was stirred from my sleep when my phone rang. It was Ace. “What do you want?”

His voice was lush. “I did it, Kiel.”

“You at Mary’s?”

“It was ​so worth the wait.”

“It’s four in the morning.”

“I know. But I had to tell you. She’s sleeping now. I really put her out. She’s so gorgeous when she sleeps.”

“It’s four in the morning.”

“Be happy for me.”

“I am.”

“I love you, buddy.”

“You too.”

Chapter 15

Ace and Mary were officially an item and the Gatsby party may as well have been a coming­out party for them. Don’t get me wrong, it was an enjoyable day at first, but the gala setting and Ace drinking copious amounts of champagne and showing off Mary left and right like a record­breaking fish fresh from Mansard Lake was a little nauseating, to say the least.

“I chased and chased,” Ace announced to a crowd of acquaintances and coworkers from the lounge, most of them sharply dressed but not as much as Ace in his sapphire blazer and flamingo­colored tie. “I chased and chased and made myself a fool.”

“Yeah he did,” said Mary. She launched into some sappy story about something Ace had done, so I moved about the plush lawn. Donny and Tommy pulled in, parking next to the dozen other vehicles. Tommy stumbled with a tumbler in his hand and a joint behind his ear.

“Mr. Good Time,” I said.

“You bet your fine ass, Kiel,” he said. He leaned in and kissed me on the cheek and reeled back, offering me the tumbler. “It’s a special concoction, try it.”

“I’ve got a whiskey.”

“Made it just for you.”

“Don’t frighten me.”

“Take a drink, Kiel.”

It tasted pretty damn good. I engaged him in small talk and sent him and Donny towards the canopied tables set with rows of good­ass catered dishes and top­shelf beverages. I figured that would occupy Tommy long enough to get away for a minute.

I ducked behind Ace’s house and found some quiet on a swing looking out into the backyard lined with setups for beer pong, bocce ball, and lawn darts. I pulled a joint from the inside of my sport coat, lit it, and tried to sort through the whirlwind of thoughts. The sun didn’t seem very bright and the breeze was sharp rather than soothing, and something in my stomach just wasn’t right. It had been awhile since I deliberately left a get together to sit by myself, but I couldn’t be around those people at the time. While I was sitting on the swing with my feet dangling limp over the edge, I desperately wanted to know why I was feeling such a way, but the answer didn’t come. I nursed the joint furiously and the answer just didn’t come.

“Kiel, Kiel, Kiel,” Aubrey said as she sat next to me. “You didn’t strike me as the brooding type.”

“People are full of surprises,” I said. We shared the joint.

“Yeah, you know,” she said. “I just needed to get away from all the bustle. I like a good lawn party, but I ​love quiet.”

“Quiet is nice. What’s going on with you? And Mary?”

“Straight to the point, huh?”

“Sorry,” I said. “I just need to get out of my own head right now.”

“Our dad made some mistakes. And she’s a daddy’s girl through and through.”

“Mistakes?”

“I stopped paying close attention. There’s not a lot I can do. I offered my best to him when he found a way to call us last week, but I just don’t have the capacity to care about a Wall Street wheeler getting caught up with a mistress and some legal issues.”

“Whoa.”

“I figured you had heard. Ace and Mary, and you and Ace, you know?”

“Does she know?”

“A lot less than me. Head in the sand. I feel awful. But I’m just trying to have some genuine me­time. Is that so selfish?”

“Define selfish,” I said.

“I guess it differs from person to person.”

“I can’t do philosophy right now.”

“That’s more the law of idiosyncrasies than anything.”

“Damnit.”

We sat in silence until the joint was gone. Then she lit one of her own and passed it to me. I had a sense she understood.

“Well,” I sighed. “What of you and Andy?”

“What of you and the world?”

“Back to the philosophy.”

“I just want to know what ​you want. I’m sick of talking about me.”

“To feel the sun, I guess.”

“It’s right there.” She pointed above the tree line to the orange ball emitting burgundy hues into the sky.

“I can see it.”

“But you can’t feel it?”

“No.” “Too much sunblock?”

“Funny.”

We sat some more before Andy came up to us, standing handsome and calm. “Good day, huh?”

Aubrey made room and he sat next to us.

I asked him where he had been. He was quiet before playing it off as nothing. We all split the joint and I wrangled in my urge to figure out why the sun didn’t feel so bright.

“Should we go make nice?” Aubrey asked.

“I wouldn’t mind that,” said Andy. He was tapping his shoes on the grass. “Let’s— let’s do that.”

They stood up. Aubrey invited me. I declined. I wanted a little more time on the swing. It’s really hard to make nice with people when you’re wondering why the sun doesn’t look like it used to. ~ The guest list had completely turned out by ten o’clock that night with the exception of James and Mariah, who had informed us they would be there around eleven as James had to work the 4­10 that night. I missed him only a little bit, finding myself preoccupied with a group of girls I had never met before. I joined Tommy and some other guys from the resort in leading

the fresh faces across Ace’s lawn to the various tunes on Andy’s playlist. He was a damn good DJ. There were roughly ten girls that I couldn’t recognize and I had sorted through four of their names already, leaning in close and dropping some corny one­liner to get their attention before disappearing back into the fray. Thanks in part to the overflowing reservoir of liquor at the party, I had managed at least a wink or a smile from most of them. I rarely played this type of game, but when I did, I put just an ounce or two of effort in to ensure a good time at the end of the evening.

“Nice pickin’s,” Tommy said to me, leading a brunette dame in and out of his reach with a classic two­step.

There was a strawberry blonde close to me. I grabbed her hand, enveloped her with my arms, and then spun her with more precision than I was capable of. I maintained a grasp on my drink and shared a gaze with her. She had modest freckles and the figure of a track star.

“Alice.”

“Kiel.”

“I like that. It’s very east coast.”

“Are you aware of where we are, Alice?”

“You’re gonna say ‘Wonderland,’ aren’t you?”

I finished off my beverage and looked away for only a moment before I met her lips with mine and pulled away. It was sloppy. “Do you still get that line?”

“Every now and again.” She nuzzled in a little closer to me and saw my empty cup.

“Should we sneak off and get another drink?”

“I’ll catch you down the line, dear,” I said.

She looked disgusted but was doing her best to mask it. “Okay.”

I dove back into the fray and repeated the process a few times until I got tired of it and found Tommy sitting beneath the canopied serving table, looking on at the dwindling crowd of dancers.

“It ain’t what it used to be,” he said.

I touched my glass to his and put some gin in the back of my throat. “Yeah.”

“Two of ‘em asked me if I wanted to find a room upstairs. Two good lookin’ ones, too.”

“Why are you here then?”

“I could say the same to you.”

“It’s not what it used to be.”

“See, Kiel, what’s it all worth if it’s only once?”

“What do you mean?”

Tommy reached for a sealed bottle of whiskey he had apparently stashed beneath the table and killed a quarter of the liter without so much as a shudder. “You get ‘em in the sheets and you get your rocks off and you say you’ll call and then you don’t. Or they don’t even want you to call them. Or you want to call them and they have some sort of reason to not want to see you again. It never works out.”

“Lighten up, why don’t ya?”

“It’s just the facts,” Tommy said. He nursed the bottle and gave it to me. “I’m not a sad­sack about it, but it does make events like this quite a bummer sometime.”

“I guess I just haven’t really been intrigued by any of them,” I said. “There’s some pretty ones. But maybe you’re right.”

“I’m still getting laid tonight,” said Tommy. “I’ll resign to how casual it all is, but I’m not okay with how our culture seems to be okay with it these days.”

“How’s Katie?”

“Bitch. Always has been.”

“The mother of your child?”

“I love her,” said Tommy. “I love her to death and I always will, but she’s a bitch and I don’t think I could be with her.”

“You really are being a sad­sack tonight.”

“Roll in the deep with me, Kiel. It’s been awhile.”

“We need to go down to the park and have a home run derby soon,” I said.

“Yeah, yeah,” said Tommy. Then something caught his eye. It must have been one of the three girls scattered across the lawn who were quite obviously staring at him with some sort of longing in their eyes. “It’s decision time I guess.”

“Go get ‘em,” I said.

“I’ll see you on the other side, brother,” Tommy said. He gave me a handshake, rose to his feet, and then he was back into the crowd. I filled up my cup and milled around the grounds, checking both inside the cabin and throughout the vast yard in search of Ace, Mary, Andy, or Aubrey. It was a fruitless hunt, so I returned to the canopied table and played with my drink straw.

Then she appeared before me and I lost all awareness of anything else.

“It’s Kiel, right?”

~ She told me her name was Catherine. I believed her and was prepared to believe anything she said. We stole away from the commotion of the party and found ourselves on Ace’s beach and eventually a ridge overlooking the placid waters of the lake. I watched her as she studied the moon. We found a sturdy oak branch, jutting out from the shore and hovering over the surface of the lake. I noticed a glint in her eye when I finally got around to speaking up.

“Do you like the lake?”

She leaned in towards me, but only a little. Her hand grazed my thigh. “Who doesn’t like the lake?”

“Eskimos.”

She giggled. It was more of a snort, rather, but it was infectious. A little tipsy, she lost her balance for a moment and clutched my arm, chin on my shoulder blade as my heartbeat battered my rib cage. I turned away and focused on the moonlight. She kissed my shoulder through my jacket and swayed her dangling feet. “Do you like the lake?”

“I really, really like the lake.”

Catherine looked away again and I let my eyes spill all over her until the last possible second. I was taught that staring was rude, but Catherine had blue eyes that struck down every preconceived notion I had on the appreciation of the color spectrum. Dimples pinched her smile just enough to render it the perfect cross between innocent and rascal. Catherine told me she was twenty­two and that she was visiting town with a friend who had been invited by somebody

at the party. I didn’t really care about the more specific details because it was just after midnight and all the T&Ts had softened my shoulder to her touch. I pointed out some constellations and feigned astronomic knowledge, and I listened to her talk about her college plans and her favorite type of flower and what she would do with a million dollars and a stolen identity: Studying Healthcare Management, because “it benefits the people at the core,” Gerber Daisies, and a transatlantic cruise for two. I clung to every word like I would never again meet another person with a story to tell.

Catherine told me that she wanted to see the rest of the town. She gave me her flats so she could walk barefoot and I couldn’t even believe how wonderful it was to watch her meander barefoot beneath a clear summer night sky. I kept stealing glances whenever I had the chance.

She eventually caught on and pulled me in and brought us to the ground beneath a street light.

We rolled in the grass. I found myself pinned. She sat on me, prideful and with eyes that swiveled to the jaunted rhythm of her words. “Would you love to live in Paris one day?”

I couldn’t look away from her as she gazed at the stars and the street lights that reached towards us, just barely, from the town square. “I heard that Paris is basically just wine and love.”

She leaned in close enough for me to taste mango vodka on her breath. “I heard a lot of things about America too.”

“Foreigner?”

“No sir. But I still hear and see things and sometimes I just think how great Paris would be. To be able to get up and not have to see news stories about people getting gunned down and

robbed and the world coming to an end because not enough people are driving hybrid cars and there’s a wad of plastic the size of Maine floating in the ocean.”

Every word was like a soothing piano key, even the grim ones. I asked her more about Paris, and when she ran out of things to say, she kissed me firmly on the lips and asked me to lead her somewhere else. We resumed our journey. I led us towards the golf course and when she said the grass was far too wet for her bare feet, I offered her back her flats. She declined and jumped on my back, clutching my chest with a feverish grip. Her scent was stark and meshed well with the grassy smell permeating the air. Owls hooted and critters ruffled around as we went deeper into the course. When I grew tired, we sat on the ledge of a grassy knoll that fell away into a meadow below us. I pulled out a joint for us to smoke. She told me she preferred weed to booze and asked me where I stood on that argument. I chose not to answer because I simply didn’t have time for such nonsense. I wanted to know absolutely everything I could about her and how those eyes got so blue and what divine power had blessed her with the ability to make me forget about everything going on outside of that evening. I figured I couldn’t just blatantly ask such things, so I tried to be coy about it. Then she cut through the bullshit.

“What are you after, Kiel?”

“This is a nice night. I guess I hope it lasts longer than just a moment.”

“Everything is a moment if you think about it.”

“I can’t do that type of talk tonight.”

She looked me up and down and rubbed her nose into my shoulder again. Then she ran her fingers across my back and played with my hair, and the warmth in my stomach was superior to any warmth I had ever felt after sipping a drink. “What kind of talk?” ​she asked.

“The world,” I replied. “People like to talk about it around here like it’s some sort of big puzzle.”

“It kind of is, you know.”

A handful of critters darted across the fairway in front of us and I brought her in a little closer. “Can we forget about the pieces tonight?”

“We can.”

“We can maybe put the pieces together a different night.”

“Maybe, yeah,” she said. “I can tell you’ve had a rough go lately. What’s your middle name?”

“Aaron.”

“Kiel Aaron?”

“Kiel Aaron Koenig.”

“That is ​so East­y.”

“You?” “Catherine Robin Pierce.”

“That’s royal.”

“You have nice eyes, Kiel.”

“Yours aren’t awful, Miss Pierce.”

“Miss?”

“I hope.”

“It is.”

I kissed her. She kissed me back so squarely that we tumbled into the meadow. I let my hands roam free once we came to a halt and got our wits about us. Our clothes were shed within minutes. Starlight illuminated Catherine’s curves as she volleyed jolts of electricity up my spinal cord with her hips. We rocked back and forth and I kissed her early and often. I worked up a sweat to maintain her gasps and moans in my ears. It was the sweetest sound I had ever heard, and I knew that hearing her like this would propel me into a lengthy comedown.

Withdrawals were on the horizon—they always were—and I knew that Catherine’s hips would cause me more trouble in the long run. She bucked and spasmed and dug her nails into my chest as I lifted myself into her. Catherine’s eyes demanded my all and I gave it to her, clutching her hips with one hand and the back of her neck with the other. I pulled her towards me, my hands and legs and torso working in unison to match her pace.

I went to speak. She placed two fingers on my lips and demanded more.

~

We returned to find the remainder of the guest list sitting around a bonfire in the front yard. Ace and Mary had resurfaced in more casual garments.

“Buddy,” Ace said to me.

“Gorgeous night,” I said.

Ace had to speak over the crowd. “Who’s this?”

Catherine was scanning the group for somebody.

“Catherine,” I said. “You’ve met Ace?”

“Yeah, hi, of course,” she said, quickly returning to her search.

Ace smiled at her and then back at me. Mary’s head rested on his shoulder and I had hoped to find an open spot for Catherine and I to follow suit. I rarely wanted such a thing, but those damn eyes caught me and dragged me through some sort of rapid transformation. Or maybe it was the gin.

Catherine tapped me on the shoulder. Another girl was suddenly next to her.

“Hm?” “I’m taking off, have a good night.”

“Oh,’ I said. “Umm.” “I have to head back home early tomorrow.”

“Can I get your number?”

She was taken aback before she leaned in to whisper in my ear. “So, I have somebody back home. So I would appreciate it if this was kept between us.”

My chest frosted over and I made a solid effort at regaining the wind that had been knocked out of my stomach. “Yeah, of course.” I kissed her on the cheek. “It was nice to meet you, Catherine.”

She nodded and followed her friend to the row of cars. Then she was gone. I quickly found a chair next to Ace. Mary had all but passed out on Ace’s chest and the crew around the fire had dwindled to below ten.

Ace’s eyes lowered. “New friend, huh?”

“Just a shout in the wind, I guess,” I said.

He reached into a cooler and passed me a bottle of expensive whiskey. “Emergencies only.”

“This is top shelf,” I said.

“It is.”

“I could really use it.”

He reclined and let out a nice yawn. “I think I can live without it for right now. Drink up.”

I did as he told me, but Ace was quieter than normal which left me in my thoughts, so I found my feet and set off towards the house.

Then it all started.

Her voice was shrill and coated in booze and she approached us from the driveway.

“Jackson Hunt?”

Ace perked up and looked ahead. I could tell he recognized her. She neared the bonfire with haste, stumbling out of the shadows with anything but grace. Mascara seeped down her rosy cheeks and the moderate amount of natural beauty she had was ruined by an oversaturation of makeup.

“Yeah,” said Ace. “How can I help you?”

Mary looked utterly lost. Ace got to his feet.

“You said you’d call,” the visitor said.

Ace was still trying to make her out from across the fire.

She made clumsy work of making her way to Ace but eventually faced him front and center.

Ace didn’t flinch. “Do...I know you?”

She reeled back and slapped him across the face. “You think you can just fuck me for ten minutes in my cabin after walking me home and ​not call me?”

I saw every last ounce of oxygen evaporate from Ace’s body.

“Ace,” said Mary. “Who the hell is this?”

The visitor spit in Mary’s face. “Who the hell are ​you? Did he call you back?”

Mary reached for a handkerchief in her purse and cleaned her face before stiffening up and facing Ace. “When was this?”

Ace opened his mouth but words didn’t come out.

“Just a few days ago,” said the visitor. “Just a few days ago he decided to walk me home, get me in my bed, and leave once he got his. Didn’t even get a name.”

“How did you find my name?”

“Your friends at the Lounge were happy enough to give it out,” the visitor said. She smirked.

“Ace,” said Mary. “Is this true?”

Ace opened his mouth but remained silent. Mary put a blatantly fake smile on her face and then looked at the ground. Nobody spoke. We all waited.

“Goodnight, Jackson,” Mary said.

James emerged from the driveway’s shadows with Mariah in tow. He asked for Tommy.

No answer.

“Where in the hell is Tommy?”

Tommy joined us, clambering over the tables in the garden after exiting the cabin half­naked. “James, I could hear you from all the way inside. Pipe down buddy, do you want a drink?”

James clutched Tommy by the shoulders and brought him in real close. Mariah stood by.

Her usual vibrance was absent. James’s voice was raspy and wet.

“Why was there an ounce of weed in my work bag?”

Andy joined the commotion. Tommy looked at him and then looked back at James. “I’m sorry, buddy. I put it in there by mistake when I was drunk.”

“You don’t make careless mistakes,” said James. He eased up his grip on Tommy’s shoulders. “There’s no way you’d do that. Would you?”

Tommy looked at Andy, who had lost his breath as well. James caught on to this and swooped in on Andy, gripping his arms even tighter. “You selling dope in my house?”

Andy tried to speak but found no words.

“Stop, James,” said Tommy. “It was me. What of it?”

James tightened his grip on Andy. “Opened my bag today to pull out my thermometer and a bag of pot comes falling out right in front of my boss.”

Tommy tried to keep his cool. “And?” “I’m in the market for a job,” said James.

There were murmurs from around the fire. Ace saw it as a fit time to turn his attention away from James and back to Mary, who was already making her way towards the parked cars.

Ace pursued her, completely ignoring the still­nameless visitor. The visitor found a chair and stretched out her scantily­clad frame. I think she passed out on the spot.

James cleared his throat and tried again. “You selling drugs in my house?”

Andy was silent.

“I sell,” Tommy said. “You know I sell, James. I’ll even say it in front of these people ‘cause that’s how serious I am about telling you the truth here.”

“I can’t tell a lie,” Andy said. “I­I can’t.”

James hushed himself, just slightly. “What are you saying?”

“I put the weed in there because somebody came to the door and I needed to hide it quick. I forgot to take it out this morning.”

James punched Andy squarely in the face. His body hit the grass with a particularly crisp thud and then he was motionless. Tommy was on James in a heartbeat and it unraveled into a full­out brawl. Mary approached, suddenly talking on the phone with Ace in pursuit. She dug her foot into the ground, put the phone to her shoulder, and gave Ace a glare that seemed to pierce his chest. He stood next to me still as a statue as Mary wandered towards the cabin.

James had been subdued by Tommy, who had always been a scrapper. Ace’s nameless fling snored loudly, crunched up in the lawn chair. Time must have been cut out from under me because I noticed that the handful of guests who were around the blaze only a moment ago were gone. A shudder coursed from the tip of my skull down to my chest.

Tommy found his feet. James rolled onto his stomach and I could tell he was in a tearful type of tremor, his legs twitching occasionally. Mariah tended to him.

“I’m sorry, Mariah,” Tommy said.

She rubbed her boyfriend’s back, paying no mind to the apology. “You okay honey?”

James groaned. Tommy must have given him a few solid wallops.

“I love ya James,” said Tommy. He produced a cigarette and tended to Andy as Mary returned to the fire.

“Sweetie,” said Ace. He reached for her. She slapped him away and proceeded towards her vehicle.

“Sweetie!”

“Jackson,” she said, turning to face him. Her cheeks were the color of a cherry and dampened. “Don’t call me that.”

“What’s wrong sweetie—dear, I mean­­” “Everything is political,” she said.

“What happened?”

“Dad’s in custody,” she said. “Mom also caught him with an escort.”

And of course, Aubrey had to emerge from the cabin at that particular moment, all bedhead and glazed eyes.

“Aubrey,” Mary said.

“Where’s the fire?”

“Dad’s in custody.”

Aubrey noticed Andy and immediately tended to him.

“Aubrey!”

Aubrey turned him over, checking for breath and feeling his hands.

“Aubrey.”

“What?”

“They got him on tax evasion and fraud.”

“I know.”

“You knew?”

“I knew that mom was concerned about the investigation.”

“There was an investigation?”

“It was brief, Mare.”

Mary refused. “You knew?”

“I chose to listen for awhile, yeah.”

Ace went for Mary, who evaded him once more and faced her sister. “Aubrey, are you coming with me?”

“Wait,” said Ace. “Going where?”

“None of your business, Jackson.”

“Please don’t call me that.”

Mary looked past him. “Aubrey?”

“I’ll be staying.”

“Mary, please,” said Ace. “Not like this. Not tonight.”

Mary’s words soaked into an uneasy vibration. “You’ll have no issue finding company.”

“I don’t remember,” said Ace. “I promise.”

“That doesn’t work.”

“She’s not you.”

“Apparently a good side dish though.”

“Mary.”

“Jackson, goodnight.”

Headlights poured into the yard. A suburban approached. Mary waved to it. An especially handsome blond guy emerged from it and greeted Mary with a hug as if it were instinct.

Ace was a statue once again, but only long enough to register what was happening.

Then he was on the guy in an instant, ripping him from Mary and cornering him to the hood of his suburban. He took it easy on the blond guy for only a moment before pinning him onto the hood. Mary clawed at him, crying out and objecting. I didn’t like that. Ace had a few neighbors in easy hearing range, which was always his lone concern for the Gatsby party.

My phone buzzed. I almost forgot it had been in my pocket.

“Yeah?”

“Is this a Mister Kiel Koenig?”

“Speaking.”

“Meleene is your mother, correct?”

I didn’t like the tone of the guy’s voice. It matched the tone of the noises surrounding me a little too much and I just wanted to hang up.

“I’m in communications for Maine State Hospital,” the guy said. “I see you’re her emergency contact.”

“Yeah. Yeah I am.”

“Mr. Koenig, are you available to come down here soon?”

“What’s going on?”

“It’s Meleene. She came in with cardiac arrest about an hour ago. We did the best we could to stabilize her, but I’m not sure how much longer we can keep her in that condition.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m very sorry, Mr. Koenig. But you should come down here immediately.”

“What are you saying?”

His voice trailed off into a staticky haze. My spine tingled. The tips of my fingers grew icy. Then the senses flooded me: the cresting noise of the fire, the thud of my phone hitting the ground, a very audible crack reverberating off the face of the handsome blond dude. He struggled against Ace with a few jabs of his own before the scuffle was illuminated by more taillights spilling down the driveway. Ace kept on the blond, easily overpowering him. Mary kept clawing at him to no avail. When the other headlights neared, they were accented with blue and red flashing lights. Cops. They darted from the squad car and made immediate work of restraining Ace, who retaliated by punching one of them in the face. The other cop was quick with his taser. Ace’s entire frame jolted as the wires lodged in his back. He sunk to the ground slowly and flailed as the officers cuffed him. The fire hissed, weaving with the hum of the squad car’s engine and the suppressed sobs of Mary, who had to look away as Ace was lifted by the officers and dragged towards the squad car.

~