Page 125 of Elusion

A tension builds in the air around us, and no one speaks for what stretches on for an eternity. It’s the silence used in place of Graham’s name. Every Sunday afternoon, without fail, Kevin visits him. But the last few times, Graham refused to see him, mad about Kevin’s first step toward making amends with Callie.

Since Graham immediately signed a plea deal for three counts of aggravated assault and a bonus charge of emotional child abuse of Connor, he faces several years in prison. He signed over power of his finances and property to his brother. Well, Kevin turned around and sold the house within a week, gifting the money to Callie. It healed one relationship, only to create a rift in another. Not that I care about Graham in the least, but Kevin’s not so bad now that he’s not blindly protecting his brother.

“We’ll bring some cake by the house later.” Callie swipes the beer from my hand and brings it to her lips. “Now, leave before you see something you shouldn’t.”

She’s perfect.

Kevin wags a finger at me, still intimidating as shit. “Can’t you get a handle on her?”

“Not at all,” I say, pulling her closer. “I’ve stopped even trying.”

He chuckles on his way to the door, only looking back long enough to wave.

As soon as he steps outside, Pete throws his rag at Callie. “Damn it, Cal.”

She laughs and tosses it right back.

The alarm on my phone goes off, warning us that the time has arrived. Everyone gathers on the dance floor so we can keep an eye on the swinging door leading to the rear entrance. Pete distributes the shot glasses, providing a special princess cup filled with juice for Cate. Both Trey and Gavin drink theirs immediately, so he makes a second round. Shayna charges through the door first, grinning like a madwoman. She links an arm with Felicia, both of them bouncing around. A few seconds later, Tony swings open the door, and Connor steps through.

“Surprise,” we say at varying levels of enthusiasm, Felicia and Shayna by far the loudest.

He covers his face but can’t hide his grin. We wait for Tony to get his glass, and we toast to Connor, forcing him to watch us all take our shots.

His embarrassed act continues while everyone fusses over him, hugging him, slapping him on the back, reminiscing about the weird things he said or did as a kid. Or a week earlier in Callie’s case. He takes it all in stride with a genuine smile that never fades. All of his smiles lately have been authentic. The good finally outweighs the bad in his eyes.

Pete turns on some background music, which Gavin and Benji quickly change to something more their style. I go to the kitchen and help him carry out the food.

We all congregate around the bar to eat. Everyone picks over the trays of fried food. Loud voices all talk over one another, multiple conversations going on at once.

A food fight almost breaks out when Trey throws a handful of fries at Callie. Given how quickly Pete snatches ahold of the soda gun from behind the bar, it’s happened a time or two before. In the process of stopping her attempt to retaliate with the mustard bottle, I wind up getting bit. Not in a hot way, but it does the trick anyway.

After Gavin and Tony disappear into the kitchen, the overhead lights turn off. A hell of a lot of yelling and cussing ensues, but no one volunteers to investigate. They reappear with sixteen sparklers, left over from the Fourth of July, all shoved into and lit on the cake. If you disregard the risk of us ingesting chemicals and metal shavings, it looks cool as shit.

Once the sparklers burn themselves out, Callie steps in front of the cake. “Before we eat your possibly toxic cake”—she narrows her eyes at the guilty parties, who look at the floor to avoid her—“we have a birthday gift for you.”

Connor’s lines form between his eyebrows. “We?”

Her gaze darts over to Trey and me, our cue to herd him outside. Everyone follows us out to the sidewalk in front of the building. For no other reason than our personal entertainment, we spin him around in circles. We stop once he wobbles, nice and disoriented, and Trey tosses the car keys up in the air.

Connor’s eyes bulge as he catches them. “No way. A car?” He hits the button, making the illegally parked red Mazda beep. “Holy shit.”

Halfway across the street, he changes directions, running back. I receive the fastest hug of my life and then Trey.

He picks up Callie and swings her around. “Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.”

When he sets her down, she grips his arm to keep him from darting off. “Hold on, there’s more.”

A huge grin spreads across his face. “I’m good with the car.”

“Trust me,” I say. “You want the second part.”

Trey backs me up. “The man speaks the truth.”

“Anyone but Pete”—I glance over, and he flips me off—“drumroll, please?”

Various noises occur, none of them very authentic. In fact, I worry no one knows what a drum sounds like at all.

“Everyone, shut up.” Johnny stretches his arms and cracks his neck in preparation. “Let a professional handle this.” Pantomime and all, he gives one hell of a drumroll.

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