Page 74 of Outcast
The dive bar was tiny, with more TVs than tables. On a Monday night in late July, there wasn’t much to see on the screens other than commentators rehashing the latest baseball games. Riverton was more of a football town. Once the regular season started, the bar—a little quiet tonight—would pack in rowdy, obsessive fans.
I joined Marty in front of the dartboard, snagging the beer from his hand to steal a drink. Seeing the brothers together tonight—so loyal and supportive—had gotten to me more than I’d expected.
I couldn’t stop thinking about Adam. What our relationship might be like now if he were still alive.
Would I have told him about my sexuality? About what I really wanted out of life? Maybe he and I would be the ones to grab beers together on a Monday night, play some darts, and shoot the shit about his work at the bank. Maybe his wife and kids.
I’d give anything for that. For him to justbe here.
“You okay?” Marty asked.
“Yeah, I’m fine.”
I wasn’t really in the mood to be social, but if I went home, I’d just spiral into depression. Better to distract myself with a few drinks and then crash into bed.
Katie, a sweet brunette who worked as a first-grade teacher, lined up a shot with all the focus of a sharpshooter on a roof.
She squinted one eye, raising the dart, and adjusted her position twice before letting it fly. It hit a millimeter from the bull’s-eye.
“Way to go, baby!”
Dallas came up alongside her, draping an arm over her shoulder. Damn it. Where had he come from?
He cast a smirk toward me. “Think you can beat that? I mean, you were the star pitcher in high school and all. It’d be kind of embarrassing to lose to a girl.”
Katie laughed and swatted Dallas playfully. “Stop being a bully.”
He grinned. “I’m just teasing. No hard feelings, right, Em?”
His eyes met mine, and my stomach clenched. I didn’t like him shortening my name the way my friends did. Didn’t like him even looking at me. But I couldn’t exactly tell him to fuck off without an explanation.
I focused on the dartboard instead. Pitching and throwing darts were hardly the same skill set, but aiming for a target? That I could do. I lined up the shot, assessed the distance, and flicked the dart forward.
It landed right beside Katie’s—farther from the bull’s-eye.
“Now that’s just sad,” Dallas said with a chuckle.
Marty nudged me. “You’ve got more shots. It’s all good.”
Katie threw her next dart, which went wide. Good news for me. My next shot hit the edge of the bull’s-eye.
One more shot would determine who won. But I didn’t care about that. I handed the darts to Marty.
“I’m thirsty. You finish it out while I grab a couple more beers.”
“No way,” Dallas called. “If you leave, you forfeit!”
I ignored him. I needed a breather from his foul presence.
Gail was behind the bar, dressed in the maroon and gold Riverton High Cornjerkers jersey, washed-out blond hair pulled back in a ponytail.
“Hey, Emory.” Gail pulled the tap, a rich stout filling the pint glass in her hand. “What can I get ya?”
“Just a couple of Green Label IPAs in the bottle.”
“You got it.”
She set the pint in front of Simon Prentiss, the gorgeous assistant athletic coordinator at the community college on the north side of town. His boyfriend, Parker Reid, sipped from a water glass.
