Page 2 of The Golden Boys

“There have to be at least a few hundred people here, don’t you think?” Jules’ words are muffled because she’s speaking them down the neck of a bottle.

She finishes the sip and her head hits my shoulder as I shrug. “Somewhere in the ballpark.”

“Took me forever to find you. I was starting to think you were hiding from me.” There’s an added layer of emotion beneath the statement because she’s more drunk than I realized.

“Never from you, beautiful,” I tease. “I always stand near vomit-filled trashcans at parties. It’s kind of my thing.”

A man-sized burp slips from between her lips and she hardly notices.

“I know you’re being sarcastic,” she observes, “and if I remember in the morning, I’m sure I’ll be offended. So, be ready for an earful.”

Even drunk, she can draw a laugh out of me.

The sound of my ringtone has Jules’ attention before mine. She’s surprisingly alert, considering the state she’s in. Or just plain nosey.

“Him again?”

“Yep.” I barely glance at the screen before pressing‘ignore’.

“You know you can’t dodge his calls forever, right?”

When I shrug again, her head lifts with the movement. “It’s been working out great so far.”

“Keyword: so far.” The booze-infused breath that wafts past my nose with the comment has me turning my head in the other direction before she continues. “He’s pigheaded. You know that better than anyone.”

Unfortunately, Idoknow that better than anyone.

“Maybe you should call back? Maybe he’s heard from Hunter and—”

“And, truth be told, I’m good either way,” I cut her off. “Hunter did what he did, and now he’s right where he belongs. End of story.”

Her glassy stare doesn’t let up. I feel it.

“Fine,” she concedes, “I’ll drop it.”

“Thank you.”

Wild, red curls bob when she lifts her head to nod, but she’s suddenly focused on my hand. Or, rather, what I’m holding.

“What’s this?”

I miss the chance to withdraw the letter I’m clutching and it’s hers now. She’s managed to uncrumple it some before I snatch it back, but not without tearing the small corner she gripped.

“It’s nothing important.”

Which is true. My mother’s wordsaren’timportant. Lies never are.

“Geez! Could’ve fooled me,” Jules scoffs, speaking to my back now because I’ve started toward the bonfire.

People dance around the flames, screaming the lyrics to Ice Cube’s‘Today Was a Good Day’,andit looks like they’re taking part in some kind of new-age mating ritual. Hell, that might be a pretty accurate conclusion.

Before I can talk myself out of it, I straighten the letter and hold it to the flames, letting it catch. I wait until the last possible second to finally release it, nearly burning my fingertips when I stall. This seems fitting, though. That’s me in a nutshell; never quite sure when I’ve had enough.

A family curse, in fact.

A beer is slipped into my hand half a second before Jules steps into my peripheral. Momentarily, I’m fixated on the fire through the tinted brown glass of the bottle when I bring it to my lips for a drink.

There’s a strange tug in my heart as the last visible fragment of paper disintegrates into nothing. Unlike most girls, I don’t own trinkets or mementos passed down from my mother. The only gift either of my parents ever gave me was a list of vices longer than my arm.

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