Page 63 of One Step Too Far

“At the other end of the cliff face.” He speaks up, equally defensive.

“And you, Bob?”

“Chasing after Nemeth.”

“Miguel?”

“Headed in the other direction; you saw me.”

My attention homes in on Scott. “That leaves you, buddy.”

“I already said—”

“He didn’t do it,” Neil interrupts tiredly. “He wouldn’t do it. Not him or Miggy. For God’s sake, it’s time. It’s five years past time. Tell them. Just tell them everything. While we still can.”

—

I keep my attention on Martin while Scott, Miguel, and Neil whisper among themselves. I spare a glance for Nemeth and Bob to be sure, but Martin is the one I’m most interested in. He knows, Neil said. I assumed he meant Martin. Martin figured out the secret the guys were hiding. But so far, Martin looks confused and angry. That good an actor?

Nemeth is wearing a reserved, wary expression, as if he knows something bad is headed his way and is trying to predict the blow.

Bob’s expression is the most thoughtful, the least surprised. He seems to have expected some sort of grand revelation. In theory, he’s the person I should know the most about, given our past acquaintance through virtual forums. But as I’m sure the three college friends are about to reveal, there’s a big difference between thinking you know someone and actually knowing them.

The boys stop their whispered huddle, sit back, peer at the rest of us.

Miguel seems to have been appointed primary speaker. Deep breath, then: “We lied. About that night. Not about everything, but about enough.”

I appreciate the strategy. Once you’ve been found out, stop with the petty denials and cut to the chase.

Across from me, Martin’s eyes widen in apparent surprise. But for once, the man shuts up and listens. Nemeth and Bob are already on that page.

“We were drinking. All of us.”

“Even Tim.” Neil speaks up. “A lot. More than we should’ve. More than anyone should.”

“We were off-our-asses drunk,” Miguel clarifies, in case we weren’t getting the picture.

Martin nods slowly, the fact that his son was drunker than originally reported not being of the greatest relevance.

“Josh especially,” Neil murmurs.

“We should’ve stopped him,” Scott sighs.

“What happened?” I push, trying to move them along.

“Tim got to talking—”

“Making a speech,” Miguel corrects Scott.

“Whatever. He was pontificating—”

Neil laughs hoarsely.

Good God, I want to kill all of them. I study Martin again. He still looks like he has no idea where this story is headed. Nemeth is blank-faced, while Bob nods along encouragingly.

“He wanted to thank us for being his closest buds. You know, now, on the eve of his marriage.” Miguel, still sounding bitter after all these years. “He told us he knew he wasn’t perfect, hadn’t always been the best friend. He started with me first, apologizing for stealing my job interview.”

Martin’s mouth gapes open. He shuts it again.

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