Page 21 of My Brother's Bad Best Friend

“Oh, yeah, super legit, selling coffee and pot.”

“Hey, people need their addictions, right?”

“Do they?” I ask, cocking my head. “I guess so. I get the weed, but why do you guys sell coffee, too?”

Jonas flexes his right hand and relaxes it, a gesture I don’t think he even notices. “That was your brother’s idea,” he says. “He figured if we’re selling one drug, might as well sell another.”

“Coffee’s not a drug,” I say.

“You clearly haven’t owned a coffee shop. People are way more addicted to caffeine than they are to weed.”

I’m about to argue the point but I stop as we approach a group of three guys. The closest one drops onto his board and glides over, effortlessly stopping in front of Jonas to clutch his hand and pull him into a little one-arm hug.

“Don, this is Lizzie,” he says.

Don grins at me, dropping off his board to shake my hand. “Nice to meet you,” he says. Don’s a short guy with a patchy black goatee, black hair, dark tan skin, and a disarming smile.

“You too,” I say.

The two other guys head over. The first one is tall and lanky, nearly as young as Mouse but without the sniveling deference for Jonas.

“This is Vinny.” The young guy smiles and nods. “And that’s Shrink.”

The third one approaches on his board and gives me a reserved smile. He’s wearing a hat pulled low, baggy jeans, and his shoes are untied. He’s about the same height as Don, except he’s rail thin and wiry, with pale skin and shaggy blond hair.

“Don here’s the best skater in the city,” Jonas continues. “We’ve been working on shooting a video for him, getting him some attention.” Jonas cocks his head at the trio. “Speaking of which, what the fuck are you three doing?”

Don’s grin doesn’t falter. “Practicing,” he says.

“You don’t need practice, you need footage.”

Shrink glances at Vinny. “Uh, left the camera at home,” he says.

“Jesus fucking…” Jonas groans. “Come on, guys. Go back home and get the fucking camera.”

“Not it!” Vinny says immediately, half a second before Shrink.

“Shit,” the thin guy says. “Dick.” He saunters off, board in hand.

“Come on,” Jonas says to me. “Let’s see if Don’s actually gonna practice.”

He leads me over to the boxy structure and we sit at one end. Don laughs as he hops on his board and glides off, riding up onto a short rail and grinding along his front trucks, landing it effortlessly and gliding away, Vinny hustling to follow.

I can immediately see a difference between Don and the other skaters around him. Everyone seems pretty good, but Don’s on another level. He doesn’t hesitate, he doesn’t overthink, and he doesn’t practice. He just runs at an obstacle and goes for his trick, no matter what. Sometimes he misses it, but mostly he makes everything he’s doing seem utterly simple and easy, like he was born with a board under his feet. Vinny’s pretty good too, and I’d probably be impressed if it weren’t for Don, who just makes everyone else look clumsy by comparison.

“I come here a lot,” Jonas finally says softly to me. I’m reminded of how close we’re sitting, but I have no desire to move away. The concrete’s warm from the sun and Jonas is leaning back on his hands, a little smile on his face.

“Yeah?” I ask him. “You any good?”

“Not like him.” Jonas nods at Don as the small skater lands another trick, grinning the whole time. “I wasn’t being sarcastic when I said he’s the best.”

“You said something about filming?”

He nods. “I do that on the side, sort of a little passion project.”

“How’d you get into it?”

“I don’t know,” he admits. “I had a friend a few years back that asked for some help making a skate video, and it just sort of blossomed from there. I’ve made a few videos that got really popular, and that’s when I met Don. I decided I was going to make him the best fucking tape imaginable.”

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