Row secures us a table in the back, under a flickering light. No one even looks up at us, and I can feel Hardy scanning the room to make sure we’re good and no one is watching us.
“Clear?” I ask. He nods and we sit down. Row brings us two pitchers of ice cold cheap beer and the next two groups finally arrive. Since this was my crazy idea, I volunteer to be a DD on the way back and limit myself to one glass of the stuff. Hardy and Track also volunteer. It’s not terrible, but it’s not great either.
“The only thing that would make this perfect is if there were a few pretty girls,” Baz says, looking around. There are a few women here, but there here with either husbands or boyfriends.
“Don’t pout, it’s unbecoming,” Track says with a wink. Baz just scowls at him and keeps drinking. Back at Cash’s, we made a rule that talk of work was off-limits both for purposes of having a good time and security. You never know who’s listening.
“I keep thinking that someone is going to jump us,” Cash says, looking around warily. I find this comical, because he’s definitely the biggest guy in here.
“Stop acting so squirrely,” Row says, bumping Cash with his shoulder. “Just relax.”
That’s easier said than done, but my one beer, I find my shoulders releasing some of the tension that lives in them all the time.
“I’m just saying, I wouldn’t kick her out of bed,” Baz says about the latest female celebrity hot mess.
“You wouldn’t kick anyone out of bed,” Row says, rolling his eyes. “You’d fuck anything with a vagina.”
“I don’t discriminate. There’s a difference,” Baz says. He and Row are well on their way to getting wasted and Cash isn’t far behind them.
“Do you ever wonder what your life would be like if you were someone else?” Cash says. For someone who is generally happy, he sometimes gets maudlin when he drinks. This appears to be one of those times.
“What the fuck are you talking about? You can’t know what your life would be like if you were someone else, because you’d be someone else,” Baz says, as if it’s obvious.
“No, I get what you’re saying,” I say. “What kind of person you’d be if you got to live someone else’s life.” I used to wonder that. If my father hadn’t be a criminal and got my mother all wrapped up in his web of lies and blood. If my father had just been a banker, or a car salesman or a professor?
“There’s a lot of debate about nature versus nurture. They’ve studied identical twins that were separated at birth and then reunited and found that a lot of their traits are similar, even if they’ve been raised under completely different circumstances,” Hardy says, bringing the science.
“And who decides that person gets a shitty life? Who’s in charge of that?” We probably should have cut Cash off, but he’s too far gone now. He slumps on the table, taking up most of it and nearly knocking everyone’s glasses down.
“I just wanted to work in IT and get married and have a dog,” he says, so quiet almost no one can hear him. “But then my life had to go to shit.”
We all look at each other.
“Shitty stuff happens to everyone. Some people get more shit than others, but at the end of the day, we’re all speeding toward the same end game. Everyone dies,” Row says and Cash glares at him.
“That’s depressing.”
“The truth is most of the time.”
“Why don’t we play pool?” Track says. He’s our morale booster when Cash is out of commission.
I play Row, Hardy plays Baz and then Track (the best player in our group) plays all of us and wins. Cash is still not doing so hot, so we prop him up against the wall and start pouring water down his throat.
No one seems to notice us, or pay attention, but we’re all still on alert. Some of the patrons of this establishment clearly have criminal records, but then so do we.
Hardy is getting a refill on water for Cash when he bumps shoulders with a guy who clearly wants to start something. I had the feeling something like this would happen, but as the night wore on I thought we’d get lucky. Not so much.
Hardy turns to the guy and says something in a low voice. The guy guffaws and turns to his buddies. Clearly, he’s doing this all for show, but Hardy just steps toward the guy and then suddenly he’s on the ground. It happens so fast it doesn’t even look like Hardy touched him.
The guy screams as Hardy calmly walks back to us.
“I think it’s time to go.” I throw Cash’s arm over my shoulder and Baz gets his other side as we make a hasty retreat, the guy and his buddies screaming murderous threats at us. Hopefully they’re all so wasted none of them will remember this interaction tomorrow morning. But I have a feeling the asshole on the floor is going to be wondering what the hell happened.
“Did you have to drop him like that?” Row says. I can tell he’s pissed that the night has come to an end. I throw Cash in the car with Baz and then hop behind the wheel with Row and Hardy as Track drives the other car. We all leave at once, but vary our driving patterns so we arrive at the garage where we keep the cars at different times.
“We should do that more often,” Baz says. “But can we go to a place with girls next time?” There’s a collective eye roll as we figure who’s taking the drunkies home so they can sleep it off.
“Going to a bar never used to be this much work,” Hardy says. “But I’m glad we did. Even if that asshole did try to start something. Maybe next time I’ll lay whoever it is out and give everyone a good show.” His eyes sparkle a little and I think maybe the next time we should go somewhere that doesn’t have as many drunk guys looking to start a fight. The last thing we need is for one of the boys to get arrested.
Everyone says goodnight and I have the delightful job of getting Cash home and in bed. He’s done it for me enough times, so I might as well return the favor.
He’s mumbling as I shove him up the stairs of his place and toward this bedroom. I shove some aspirin down his throat and some more water. I make sure to leave some extra with him, get him undressed, in bed and tilt his head to the side.
“Good night, big guy.” I’m about to turn and leave when a sound stops me. Cash is quietly sobbing.
Not sure what to do, I turn around and look down at him. I’ve never seen Cash cry. I’ve never seen any of the guys cry. Not that we don’t, I just think by virtue of what we do that we bottle it up and save it for when we’re alone.
“They’re all dead,” he moans, grabbing his face. “They’re all dead.”
His parents. He was the one who found them and I think that’s one of the reasons we share so much. We both know what it’s like to walk in on a murdered parent. Cash had it harder, though. I always wonder how he’s able to stay so upbeat.
“It’s okay, Cash. It’s okay. It’s over,” I say, patting his shoulder. He looks up at me with so much pain in his eyes that I want to look away.
“It’s not over, it’s not over,” he says again and again. I have nothing I can say to him that’s going to convince him, so I sit on the bed next to him and wait for him to go to sleep. Eventually he tires himself out and his eyes close and then he starts softly snoring. He won’t remember this, but I will.
Cash was much younger than I when his parents died. I can’t imagine what that’s like to be in your formative years and have something like that break you. I make my way back to my place and decide to hop the fence and hang out in one of the parks for a while.
I think about my mother. About Lizzy. About Cash. I think about all the lives ruined by circumstances out of their control.
I think about going over to Saige’s place again, but I don’t. It is extremely late and I don’t think she’ll indulge me twice in one week. I don’t need her knocking my defenses down and making me tell her things I shouldn’t be telling her.