My steps take me through an airy, tall-ceilinged hall with rooms branching off either side. The music and voices get louder as I step outside onto a covered terrace. People mill about, drinking what looks like cocktails in tall glasses with those ridiculous paper umbrellas. Three wide steps lead to the garden. Holy shit, it really is on the edge of the water, perfectly manicured lawns surrounded by rosebushes in bloom and a sailboat moored right outside the hedge, its masts swaying and creaking.
I shake my head and grin. Because of course, with this sort of money, you’d have a yacht or a sailboat at your doorstep, in case you get hit by the urgent need to go out onto the lake at some inconvenient hour. Makes perfect sense to someone like me who owns nothing more than an old car, some clothes and his drawings. Right… So not.
I spot a cooler on a table and head that way. Grabbing a beer, I straighten, looking into the night, the scent of cool water filling the air.
“Hey.” A hand lands on my shoulder, and I jerk, spilling my beer as I spin around.
Dylan looks at me as if I’ve sprouted horns. “Hey, Zen-man, you—?”
“Okay, yeah, I’m okay.” I scowl at my suddenly half-empty beer. “Peachy.”
“Were you having a Zen moment?” He grins.
“Har har. Very funny, Dylan.” I gulp down the rest of my beer. “Just arrived?”
“No, we’ve been here a while.” He points at a group on the other side of the garden. “The guys are there.”
I nod but stall, giving him a once over. Now might be a good time to get him to talk. I’ve known Dylan since we were thirteen, and he’s been a good friend, if a little pigheaded sometimes. He always has my back, no matter what. When his mother left and his father began sliding, he found himself in charge of the household and his two brothers.
“So how are things at home?”
He shoves his hands into his pockets and avoids looking at me. He starts walking, and I fall in step with him. “Same shit.”
But it’s not. I can tell from the tension in his shoulders, in his face. “Cut the bullshit. Tell me.”
I want him to open up and tell me.
I want him to pretend all is fine and tell me to mind my own business.
Fuck. What’s the matter with me? I want to help my friends. I want to be the one they can rely on, as they’ve been doing so far. So why is my heart jackhammering in my chest just at the thought of shouldering any more responsibility?
He says nothing as we brush by groups of people, and I think for a moment that he forgot about my comment.
But apparently he hasn’t. “Teo is sick.”
I miss a step and almost end up on my ass. Fuck, no, not this. Teo is Dylan’s younger brother. He’s only six, dammit. Not fair.
Then again, what’s ever fair? How’s it fair for Emma, who has two little kids?
“What’s wrong with him?” I force myself to ask, and all I see in my mind is Emma’s emaciated face, her hollow eyes. Cold sweat is trickling down my back.
“Doctors don’t know yet.” Dylan slows down and gives me a long look. “You okay, Zen-man? You don’t look too hot.”
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
“Have you eaten yet?” When I shake my head, he points to the left. “There’s the food. Let’s get you fed.”
Without another word, I follow him to the grill. As the first whiff of barbecued meat hits me, my stomach growls like a mutant werewolf.
A bearded guy with a huge stomach wields the barbecue tongs like samurai swords, and he barely glances up when we arrive. However, a thinner, long-haired guy with a T-shirt reading ‘Count your dressings’, has plates stacked with burgers and sausages in front of him, and he passes on two to us.
Deciding that’s as good a distraction as any, I stuff my face as I follow Dylan to a pool with a bar. Someone waves at us from the bar stools, and I recognize Ash and Tyler, then I see Erin and Audrey.
No sign of Dakota. Damn.
“Where’s Rafe?” I plant my ass next to Erin and filch one of her fries. She slaps my hand. Typical. “Is he coming?”
“Nah, something came up,” Tyler says and licks his greasy fingers.
“Like what?”
“Something to do with his uncle, I think.” Tyler’s dark eyes narrow. “Why? Anything I should be worried about?”
“No, nothing.” I chew the bite I took of my burger and swallow with difficulty. I almost choke. Rafe’s uncle. Family issues in that household never bode well. I look for the bartender. “Hey, can I get a beer?”
“Slow down, man.” Tyler frowns at me, and I really don’t need a motherfucking nanny.
“Slow down yourself. This was a party, last I looked.”
His brows lift. Yeah, he’s not used to me in such a mood. Tough. It’s not like I can help it. Though a few more beers might help.
The bartender appears and gives me a beer, no questions asked. I salute him. He deserves a medal. The cool alcohol helps me swallow, and I breathe more easily. I pull out my cell and call Rafe.
He doesn’t pick up. Not that that’s unusual, but with my mindset these days, I can imagine accidents, knives flashing, guns cocked, triggers pulled and pools of blood… I have a good imagination, made all the more vivid by the nasty crap it’s been fed during my less than stellar childhood.
“He’s okay, Z-man,” Ash says, nailing me with a look. “I talked to him earlier. Just some paperwork about his house.”
I nod vaguely and down the rest of my beer. Yeah. I bet he’s as fine as I am. Fine as rain. Rafe’s demons are so bad I don’t even know if I can ever help him.
As for Dylan… I glance at him sitting there, wolfing down his burgers, and swallow a sigh. I once thought he’d be the first of us to bounce back and resume his life. Star school quarterback, college scholarship in his pocket, best grades, a girlfriend who loved him…
When it all went to shit, I thought one of those things would push him back up to the surface. But he kept sinking. Things at home only got worse and worse, until he hit rock bottom. I sometimes I wonder what I think I’m doing. If there is anything I can do.
And now… Hah. Fuck it, now all I want is to forget everyone’s problems.
Especially mine.
The music is pounding in my ears as I stumble through the garden, crossing the immaculate lawn. Someone is calling my name, I think, but I ignore them. Leaving my collection of empty beer bottles on the bar, a freshly opened one in hand, I make my way through the gate and out, onto a small beach. Two torches have been stuck into the ground, shedding flickering light on the water of the lake and the sailboat moored at the dock.
This evening sucks. The beer isn’t enough to take my mind off the present. I lift my bottle and take a swig. Or maybe I haven’t had enough? I try to count in my head how many I’ve had so far and can’t remember for the life of me.
Still. Not enough. And the bartender had no hard liquor to offer. Orders of the parents of the friend of… Dylan, was it?
Frowning, I stare out at the lights on the other shore and wonder if I can swim there. Why? I don’t know. Just sounds like an activity that could stop me from thinking.
I’m really considering it, taking a step closer to the water, when I hear the gate open and close behind me.
“Hey, Zane,” a girl says—a familiar voice. “The guys said I might find you here.”