Page 35 of Black Reign

Drew says, “Show us.”

“No.”

“Blackwell.”

“No.”

“Do you have a picture?”

I hesitate.

That answers them.

The boat erupts again.

“You have pictures?”

“Two.”

“Phone.”

“No.”

“Phone.”

“You've been drinking.”

“So have you.”

Vale holds out one hand.

“Xavier.”

Traitor.

I look around the circle.

Men I've known through different versions of myself.

Royal Oaks.

California.

Europe.

Breakups.

Scandals.

Weddings.

Careers.

Some friendships go farther back than others, but somehow we ended up here, half drunk beneath Mediterranean stars, asking things none of us would have touched at eighteen.

Maybe that's what getting older is.

Not becoming wiser.