Page 28 of A Night to Remember

I want to punch them both, but also avoid getting into a brawl in front of the entire bar. “You guys are the reason people foment revolutions,” I joke, only half kidding. They both give me a puzzled look. “Why don’t we go somewhere else?” I continue, eager to get Adam away from Kayla. “There’s not much going on here anyway.”

“I’m not going anywhere until you hit on that brunette,” Adam says, shoving me a little too hard in her direction. “C’mon, us married guys have to live vicariously through single guys like you.”

I’m about to shove him back, having finally had enough of his macho shit, when I hear a voice over my shoulder.

“Wilson, can I talk to you for a sec?”

14

Kayla

We getto the bar a little before 9:00. Mickey’s may be a beloved local institution, the best (and only) hangout in town, but really, it’s a dive. Its dark walls, stained even darker from the decades when smoking was allowed inside, are cluttered with faded photographs of local celebrities everyone has forgotten about. For some mysterious reason, dollar bills are nailed all over the ceiling above the bar. Rumor has it that the original Mickey nailed up the first dollar he ever earned, and high rollers follow suit on their twenty-first birthdays. It can’t be more than a few hundred dollars, but on my more desperate nights, I contemplate tearing them all down and throwing them at Dr. Lim’s receptionist. Mickey’s is the kind of place where you can eat an undercooked burger, dance to thirty-year-old music, and contract gonorrhea all in the space of an hour.

At least the music should be better than usual tonight. Jason, Meg’s husband, steps away from the DJ booth for a second to say hi. Like Meg, Jason is about ten years older than us, andhas a kind of aging-hipster-dad vibe. Sleeves of tattoos, day-old stubble, and fingernail polish that was clearly applied by a child.

“Hey ladies,” he says. “What’s going on tonight?”

“It’s a celebration,” Allison says, holding out her hand so he can admire her ring.

“Oh, wow! Congrats! This definitely deserves a special song. Got any requests?”

Allison considers this. “Something romantic but dance-y that will remind Tom and me of an Eastern European disco. I want to see Kayla’s moves.” She elbows me with a grin.

Jason strokes his stubbly chin. “Romantic. Dance-y. Polish disco. So… Madonna? Maybe a remix? I’m on it.” He turns to jog back to his booth, pulling Tom into a quick, congratulatory man-hug on the way.

Tom comes up behind Allison and wraps his tall frame around her, putting a White Claw into her hand. She leans back against him and kisses him with a blissful smile. Tom is the son of Hungarian immigrants and usually has what I call “resting brooding face,” but he bursts into a huge grin when I heartily congratulate him.

“So what kind of magic spell did you use to get this wild child to settle down?” I shout at him over the music.

He grins even wider, if possible, and raises an eyebrow. “A magician never reveals his secrets,” he says, nuzzling Allison’s curls affectionately. I smile back. After all my years of worry, it seems like a minor miracle that she’s ended up with someone who deserves her.

Allison squeezes his forearms and shouts back at me, “Now we just need to getyousettled. Where’s—OH MY GOD. HE’S ACTUALLYHERE!”

Surely the entire bar heard that. I don’t even have to ask who she means. I take a mortified peak around the room andyup, sure enough, there’s Gabe, with his asshole brother and his asshole brother’s friend.

“Who’s here?” Tom says, squinting across the room.

“Gabe Wilson,” Allison says in the loudest stage whisper I’ve ever heard. “You know, that sweet guy who saved me from those jerks at Steven O’Connor’s graduation party? Back in my wayward youth? I told you that story, right?”

“I think so. Is he the one whose car you puked in?”

Allison laughs. “Yeah, like three times. He didn’t say a word. Just helped me clean up and then poured me into my house. He was such a gentleman.”

“Listen, you puke inmycar from now on, understand?” This time he raisesbotheyebrows and looks at her over his glasses as she giggles.

My head is spinning as I attempt to understand the meaning of their adorable banter. Gabe Wilson? A gentleman?What?

“Alli,” I shout at her. My heart pounds in anticipation. It sounds like I’m finally going to find out what happened that night, but I’m not entirely sure I want to. “What are you talking about?”

“Steven O’Connor’s graduation party. You remember, right?”

I shake my head violently. “You never told me what happened to you.”

She pinches her eyebrows together. “Sure I did. I must have.”

“No, you didn’t,” I say adamantly.

“Oh! Well, it’s not like it was a big deal. I had had waaaaay too much—for all I know, someone put something in my drink, I was not careful about those things back then,” she explains as Tom squeezes her protectively. “Three guys from the football team, I can’t remember who, were trying to lead me into the woods behind Steven’s house. Gabe caught up with us, told them he was my boyfriend, and they backed off. Then he drove me home and made sure I got inside safely. Oh, and I puked inhis car. Twice. Thrice. He may have held my hair.” She shrugs. “That’s it.”

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