Page 10 of Right Number, Wrong Man
COLT
HALLOWEEN TWELVE YEARS AGO (PT. 1)
Bass music deafens me.The stench of sweat, weed and beer streams from the mass of costumed teens writhing to the heavy beat.
I grimace. How the hell can anybody dance to this shit? That is, if you wanna call grinding on each other dancing at all.
I hate house parties. Especially on the last night home before bootcamp when I wanted to spend some quality time with my folks. Instead, I’m playing babysitter for my brother, who got grounded but snuck out anyway.
I’m nineteen, one year older than him, but Mike still acts like a kid. Irresponsible is his middle name.
I flip up the collar of my leather jacket. Without a costume and dressed in all black, I don’t fit the Halloween theme, but I don’t care. I’m gonna find Mike and drag his drunk ass home.
Dear Lord, please don’t let Hailey be here, I pray silently.
Four years of swallowing my feelings and watching her swoon over my brother should’ve numbed me. But my throat tightens when I think of her chestnut brown hairand her whiskey eyes. They’re light brown with an amber hue, but that ain’t why they remind me of bourbon.
It’s cause every time our gazes collide, my head spins like I drank too much.
I’m always the first to look away, though. The hatred in her eyes is too much to bear and she’s never tried to hide it.
I bump into a familiar face, recognizing the guy’s curly red hair. He graduated with Mike this year and occasionally comes over to our house, but I don’t remember his name.
“Have you seen my brother?” I shout over the music.
He points dumbly at a broad arch on the opposite side of the open-plan living room doubling as the dance floor. I plow through the sea of bodies until I find myself in the kitchen.
A crowd stands around the central island, watching with bated breath as Mike bounces a ping pong ball into a red solo cup. The group hollers like he won a million dollars. They’re so drunk, they barely register when I yank my brother by the collar and pull him to a quieter corner while another player takes over for him.
Mike laughs, slapping my chest with a Wraithface mask clutched in his hand. With black jeans and a black jacket, that’s his minimal effort costume.
“Are you here cause you finally stopped being allergic to fun?” Mike asks, smirking.
“I’m taking you home.”
Mike’s grin drops and he wrenches himself free, suspiciously rubbing his nose. Damn it, he’s snorting oxy again, but I’m not the least bit surprised.
I shake my head. “We had a deal.”
“The hell do you mean?” he slurs.
I lower my voice so onlyhe can hear me. “Whenyourprank got Hailey hospitalized and you beggedmeto take the fall, you swore you’d get clean.Thatwas the deal.”
Mike puffs his chest. “I didn’t beg!”
“Yeah, you did. You begged like a little boy, scared shitless of the principal and Dad. I kept your secret, though you didn’t hold up your end.”
“I stayed clean until tonight!” he says, but I don’t believe it. “Don’t act the martyr, Colt! Taking the blame was no big deal for you with your spotless record. All you got was a week of detention. I was on strike three!”
A wry laugh wrenches from my throat. “Ungrateful bastard. I should’ve let you get expelled from school. I should’ve let Dad kick you out for good like he threatened if you started using again. Maybe seeing the actual consequences of your behavior would’ve made you come to your senses!”
“Yes, maybe youshould’ve!” he sneers. “Maybe getting away from Dad’s expectations and your holier-than-thou attitude would’ve given me some room to breathe! Everybody treats me like a kid, but I’m a grown man and I can do what I want!”
Mike stumbles toward the patio door. He grabs a bottle of vodka from the kitchen counter and staggers out onto the terrace. I follow, closing the door behind us. He gives me the finger while he takes deep gulps from the bottle.
“If you wanna be treated like a man, you gotta act like one. But look at yourself!” I gesture at him. “Instead of figuring out what you wanna do with your life, you’re drinking yourself stupid and doing drugs!”
Mike waves the mask and the bottle around. “Excuse me, Mister future-special-forces!” He hurls the bottle over the lawn and it shatters in the distance. “This better? Guess I’m not allowed to have any fucking fun!”
