Page 14 of Lights Out

Bane

Watching Ridley climb onto the bartop and start one of his ridiculous dances is exactly the uplifting moment we needed. The sadness is creeping in, and even though I get to keep Jerryn close, I’m gonna miss the fuck out of the others.

People are throwing dollar bills at Ridley as he shimmies and shakes his ass across the slick wood. It’s not the first time, but ugh, it is the last. This is it. The last remnants of our youth.

Jerryn leans into me, like he always does, and I wrap my arm protectively around his waist. Around a lot of people, he tends to seek me out, like I’m a security blanket for him. Won’t hear me complaining. Somewhere along the way I think he became my security too.

“Ridley is so free and crazy,” Jerryn says. “He doesn’t give a fuck what people think, does he?”

“Not a single one.”

“I wish there was a pill I could take, you know?” He turns his pretty eyes on me. “To make me feel like he does.”

“There are a lot of pills you could take that would do that.”

Jerryn chuckles, pushing his glasses up his nose. “Yeah, I guess without also fucking me up.”

“The person who invents that would be an overnight billionaire.”

“Definitely.” He leans a little closer. “I’m glad we’re sticking together though. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never find out.” I kiss his cheek. “Best friends for life.”

He nods, his cheeks pink even in the dim light of the bar. Our attention turns back to Ridley as he strips his tank off and Jimmy half-heartedly tries to stop him. The crowd at his feet are chanting, “Take it off” as Ridley twirls the shirt above his head.

“Could you guys imagine what would happen if Indy got his fine ass up there?” Kit muses, shaking his head, while the man in question sways to the music just in front of us.

“Mayhem,” Jerryn says. “I think they’d start throwing panties and briefs at him.”

“He missed his calling,” I add. “He could’ve been a porn star.”

“Eh, he’s still young,” Kit says. “It could happen.”

“Indy might be a manwhore,” Lowen says. “But he’s a private one.”

Nodding, I agree. “Good point.”

Ridley teases the crowd by unbuttoning his jeans and tugging them open slightly.

“Oh god. He’s not actually gonna strip, is he?” Jerryn asks, peeking through his fingers. “Is that even legal?”

“Doubtful,” Lowen says. “I guess we’ll find out.”

Jimmy tugs on Ridley’s jean leg but is completely ignored as our friend starts to twerk. The poor bar owner shoots a worried look to Indy, who steps into his unofficial role as the group leader and marches over to the bar, lifting Ridley and throwing him over his shoulder to the mass disappointment of the crowd.

Ridley cackles and burps, waving to everyone as Indy carries him back to our table and sets him down. A minute later, one of the servers swings by and drops off a stack of cash and Ridley’s shirt.

“You earned it,” she says, patting him on the back.

Ridley counts his money. “Twenty-four bucks. Not bad.”

“I guess the next round is on you then,” I announce.

“Fair,” Ridley agrees before leaning back in his seat. “I’m happy but I’m sad. You know?”

Jerryn nods, putting his hand on my thigh. “Same. Life won’t be the same anymore. I know I should be excited for all that’s ahead of me, but it’s bittersweet.”

I put my hand over his and squeeze it. “We all feel that way.”

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