I shrug. “It’s so different there. Everything is so… I don’t know.”
“Clean?”
“Yeah. Clean.” I hesitate. “And kind of boring.”
Right on cue, a guy lifts his shirt just enough to tuck a gun back into his waistband before pulling his jacket over it. It’s as casual as tucking in a shirt.
Lou gestures around us. “I’ll take boring over whatever this is.”
“Right.”
“You got principal yet?” Lou asks.
“Understudy.”
“That’s still huge.”
“What about you?” I ask quickly. “You still at River Street?”
He makes a face. “Liquor store now. Night shift. Turns out I’m excellent at judging fake IDs.”
I nudge him.
“And,” he sighs dramatically, “I’m saving. Gonna open my own studio someday.”
“That’s amazing, Lou. Someday like…?”
“Someday like fifty years from now. When I’m seventy, with perfect turnout and no cartilage left.”
We both laugh, but I know what he’s not saying. He never left. I did. I ran off to a world where the biggest danger is a bad review, while he stayed here, where the biggest danger is… everything else.
“You’re really staying the whole weekend?” Lou asks.
“It’s just a visit.”
He lifts a brow. “You’re not going to avoid him all weekend, right?”
My grip tightens around my glass. “Who?”
Lou snorts. “Please.”
He knocks back his drink and stands. “Shots. Then we’re going to the alley show.”
“Alley show?” I repeat.
“Underground rap. Very Tar City. Very ‘I grew up angry and now I own it.’ You’ll love it.”
“I’m not angry.”
He stares at me. “Girl, we are all angry.”
He raises his glass. “To being single, making bad decisions, and not crying over boys.”
I clink mine against his. “To not crying over boys.”
He leans in conspiratorially. “And if we run into him, we’re acting unhinged. I will personally grind on the nearest straight man just to make it uncomfortable.”
I choke on my drink. “You would.”
