Page 55 of The Shots You Take

The Dropped Anchor was an ugly freestanding brick rectangle with an ancient light box sign on the front that had the name of the bar in a basic black font next to a beer logo that had been covered with electrical tape after a sponsorship had ended. Riley avoided the place as much as possible, especially since he’d stopped drinking. It was, however, comfortinglyfamiliar, the way it hadn’t changed since Riley had tried to order beer here in high school—as if everyone in town hadn’t known exactly who he was and how old he was. Despite its lack of charm, the Anchor was one of the cornerstones of life in Avery River. It was where people celebrated and made friends and fought friends and drank to forget, and it was a rite of passage to have your first legal beer bought for you here.

But, still. It was a gross dump.

The Anchor was crowded when Riley walked in, and he had no doubt as to why. A cluster of men were standing near the bar, Adam at the center. Everyone laughed loudly as Riley approached, Adam having no doubt just shared a self-deprecating hockey story. He’d always been good at holding court. He was the type of man that other men wanted to be: handsome, confident, and impressive.

“Riles,” Adam called out cheerfully when he spotted him. “You made it.”

“Yeah. Decided I may as well.” Someone had made a sign on neon yellow poster board that hadWelcome Adam Sheppardwritten in black marker. It hung on the wall under the TV. It was possibly the most decorative thing Riley had ever seen in the Anchor.

“I was just telling them about the fight you had to bail me out of,” Adam said.

“Against Fournier?”

“Right! Yeah. I was ready to kill him.”

“He would have taken your head off.” Adam had always been shit at fighting.

“Probably.” Adam smiled at him, eyes twinkling. Riley wondered how many beers the boys had bought him already.

“How’s the game going?” Riley asked.

“They’re already down two-nothing,” said Benny, who’d been tending bar here for as long as Riley could remember.

“Shit,” Riley said.

“They need you back there, Captain,” said Arnold from his stool at the end of the bar.

Everyone murmured their agreement.

“I think they’re just fine without a busted-up old man on the blue line,” Adam said, still smiling.

“What can I get you, Riley?” Benny asked.

“I’ll take a Pepsi,” Riley said, because it was safe. It came in cans, meaning it wouldn’t be dispensed through the Anchor’s filthy taps.

Benny handed him a can from the fridge and a thin plastic straw. “No charge. How are you holding up, son?”

Riley’s chest clenched. “You know.”

Benny nodded. “We all miss him.”

“I know.”

“That was a hell of a speech you made at the funeral,” said Charlie, a man who Riley knew had gone to high school with Dad. “Harv would have been proud.”

Riley could only nod as his throat tightened. He barely remembered the speech. Adam caught his eye and said, “Let’s sit and watch the end of the period, okay, Riles?”

Riley nodded again.

“If you need anything,” said Benny, “you let me know, all right?”

“I will.” Riley held up the Pepsi can. “Thanks for this.”

He felt the eyes of everyone on him as he followed Adam away from the bar. As soon as they were seated, Adam said, “I didn’t think you were going to come.”

“Yeah. Well.”

“I’m glad you did.” Adam smiled at him. He didn’t seem like he’d had much to drink at all, actually. The pint glass he was holding was almost full.

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