Woodman shrugged and gave her a sorry smile. “Got plans tonight. Sorry, honey.”
“Always liked you, Woodman,” she said, taking a step closer to him, her hand squeezing his arm.
Gently Woodman removed her hand, bringing it to his lips and kissing the back of it before letting it go. “You’re a sweetheart, Kim. But I gotta go find Cain. Another time?”
Her eyes were cooler as she put her hands in her pockets and took a step back. “Sure, Woodman. Good luck. You know, with everythin’.”
“You too, Kim.”
Turning away from her, Woodman sidestepped into the crowd of bodies drinking, smoking, and dancing in the peristyle. The building was a thirty-foot-long rectangle with a large circle at the end, not unlike the shape of a white dandelion puff on top of a thin green stalk. The middle of the rectangle had a long pool of water, and it was flanked by large, once-white marble columns, like something out of ancient Greece or Rome. In the rounded area, there was a vaulted ceiling over a circular pool, and rusted railings where girls and boys leaned beside one another drinking and talking. Two sets of stairs on either side of the pool led to a lower walkway closer to the water, where more kids drank, smoked, and gyrated against each other to the beat of the music. And there, on the lower level, by the water, Woodman spotted Cain.
Leaning against the railing, he was talking to two girls, both of whom appeared utterly enraptured. Woodman set his jaw and made his way down the stairs, stopping alongside Cain with purpose.
“Cain.”
“Cuz!” exclaimed Cain, his face denting from his goddamn dimples as he pulled Woodman into an enthusiastic embrace. “Hardly ever see your face here! What the fuck you up to, son?”
Cain smelled of cigarettes and beer, and his over-cheerful demeanor suggested he’d already had a few beers in the twenty minutes he’d been there.
Woodman, who’d remained stiff throughout Cain’s warm greeting, pushed his cousin away, willing himself to control his rage. “We need to talk.”
Cain leaned back slightly, his eyes scanning Woodman’s face. “We do?”
“Yeah. Not here.”
“Here’ll do for me,” said Cain slowly, crossing his arms over his chest. “Ain’t you noticed I got company?”
Woodman shot a quick look at Gina and Nicole, whom he recognized as seniors at Apple Valley High. “Ladies, would you excuse me and Cain?”
“Excuse you?” asked Nicole flirtatiously. “Honey, we’d rather you stay. We’d like to show you both a good time the night before you head off to war.”
“We’re not going to war,” said Woodman, working to keep the edge out of his voice.
“Boot camp. Whatever,” said Gina, shrugging as she licked her red-painted lips. “It’s so hot that y’all are headin’ off to defend America. Hashtag DoubleDubHeroes.”
Woodman rolled his eyes and turned back to Cain. “I need to talk to you. Now.”
Cain scoffed, raising a brown beer bottle to his lips and chugging it slowly, his eyes on Woodman’s the whole time. Woodman knew what his cousin was doing: he was trying to figure out why Woodman wanted to talk. He knew from experience that if his momma wanted him home, Woodman would have just said so by now. Why does he need to talk to me? Woodman could practically hear the question humming in the air between them.
Finally Cain lowered the bottle, his eyes widening as he nodded almost imperceptibly. “You saw. With the princess.”
Woodman flinched, his nostrils flaring as he clenched his teeth and swallowed. He felt his fingers curl into fists by his sides, and he willed them to be still, though they longed to fly from his sides of their own accord.
“I did,” he bit out.
“Didn’t mean nothin’,” said Cain, looking down at the ground, a hint of pink coloring his freshly shaven cheeks. “Forget it.”
“Can’t.”
“Try, Josiah.” He looked up at his cousin and shrugged. “It just . . . happened. Didn’t mean a fuckin’ thing.” When his cousin didn’t answer, his eyes narrowed in annoyance. “Get over it.”
“What’d you promise her, Cain?” asked Woodman, his voice a low, focused growl.
They had attracted a small crowd. In addition to Gina and Nicole, who were still standing across from them, in fascinated silence, two or three other kids had quieted down to see what was going on between the Dub Twins.
Cain tilted his beer up again, finishing the last of it. “None of your fuckin’ business, cuz.”
Woodman moved fast as lightning, his reflexes faster on account of his sobriety. His fist slammed into his cousin’s cheek, as good as a sucker punch and twice as hard. Cain’s neck whipped back, the empty beer bottle falling from his hand and smashing onto the narrow concrete walkway under their feet. A few chips of glass slipped into the water, splashing before gurgling into the greenish murk.