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Axel shrugged and fed another twenty into the machine. “He wandered off a little while ago. I don’t know what’s up with him. He’s not entirely himself.”
I was suddenly concerned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean he’s acting… I dunno. Weird.”
“He’s Zane,” chuckled Tyler, as if the two-word statement explained everything.
“True,” Axel agreed. “But something still seems off.”
“Alright, let’s go and find him then,” I said.
“You go and find him,” chuckled Axel. “I’m not going anywhere until I catch the big piranha.”
Tyler and split up to search the casino floor, with plans to meet back at the fishing slots in fifteen minutes. We had late dinner reservations in less than an hour, but after what Axel just said, my hunger had vanished.
He’s Zane.
This much was true, but I knew Zane better than anyone. He could be moody, broody, sometimes downright ornery, depending on the day of the week. But Axel was probably the least observant of the four of us. If he noticed something was off about his friend, then whatever it was couldn’t be good.
My mind wandered to Zane’s life, his thought processes, his issues and problems. He’d been disappearing on Fridays, but that wasn’t too far beyond the scope of normal. Sometimes he went over his mother’s house to clean things up, or to sit with her and watch game shows until she fell asleep in her chair. Or it could be something with work. Or maybe—
I found him in a sleek-looking sports bar off the main casino floor, sitting in a black leather seat that appeared more like a throne. His hands rested on the arms of the chair. One of them was wrapped around a significantly full glass of whiskey.
“Hey stranger.”
I dropped into the chair beside him, lightly tapping his hand. Zane handed me the glass without saying a word. I took a long swig and handed it back to him.
“You’re drinking the good stuff.”
He nodded. “Sure as fuck am. We’re celebrating, aren’t we?”
“We are,” I answered. “But you’re all the way over here.”
Zane gave off a shrug of his beautiful shoulders. He’d untied his tie hours ago, the moment we left the gallery. It looked even sexier hanging down both sides of his broad chest.
“I got bored of playing slots,” he said dismissively.
“Sure,” I allowed. “But what else?”
Zane’s gaze had been everywhere else, but now his eyes locked on mine. There had never been a curtain between us, not even a veil. We’d been around each other far too long; and shared too many things. Our bullshit detectors were finely tuned in to one another.
“Alright, fine,” he said, matter-of-factly. “I’ve been working out on the practice squad for another team.”
I tried not to let my face register too much in the way of surprise. It was difficult, though.
“Which team?”
“The River Kings.”
Now my eyes did go wide, and with very good reason.
“Zane, that’s incredible! That’s—“
“I’m not on the team,” he said quickly. “Not yet. Probably won’t be, actually. But—“
“Is that where you’ve been Friday nights?”
He took another slow pull of whiskey and nodded. Ice rattled musically in the glass.
