Page 34 of The Last Special Thing

Out of the living room window, a guy she didn’t recognize approached Art. They locked hands and then pulled each other into a dude hug.

Madisson plopped herself on the couch between Amelia and Weston. She stretched out her legs and her arms, letting out a squeak, exhausted from a day of alternating bingeing TV and basking in the sun rays by the pool.

The apartment door opened, and laughter from the new dude and Art exploded.

“This is Bryan, my friend from home,” Art introduced, clapping Bryan’s shoulder with another laugh.

Bryan held a case of beer in each hand. He was a few inches shorter than Art, which was typical for most people. He had a strong jaw, a well-kept mustache, and a buzz cut. He wore a black tank top, showing off his large muscles. Amelia catalogued him, definitely military.

“Are we having a party?” Amelia asked.

“Art and I like to see who can finish more beers in a case first,” Bryan replied, pulling up one of the Coors cases.

“This one is a housewarming present,” Bryan said, lifting the second one toward Max.

“Thanks, man.” Max grinned and took the case, setting it on the table behind him.

“The two of you split a case?” Amelia clarified as Max handed her a can and then reached one out to Weston.

“It’s more about the race to finish than the split,” Art said with a devious tint in his eyes.

It was the same look he had given her on the beach. A small smile crossed her lips as she recalled their last night together, the tiny sand particles and cold breeze in sensitive places. Art’s eyes hung on her, as if he could read her mind.

“Ready?” Max asked from behind the couch, breaking their unspoken conversation.

“Yes,” Madisson said.

Amelia started ceremoniously, raising her beer as she recited her portion of the chant. “Here's to you, and here's to me.”

“Best of friends may we ever be.” Madisson raised hers to touch Amelia’s.

“But if we should disagree.” Weston raised his to touch both of theirs.

“Then to hell with you, and here's to me!” Max concluded with a Joker’s smile as he tapped the beers, and they all drank.

Art and Bryan exchanged a look, then tapped their cans and chugged.

When Max inclined his head toward his room, Weston pressed himself off the couch and followed Max, likely to pack the bong. Worry creased Madisson's face. When Max mixed substances, he could get destructive, like on the Fourth of July. There was also Madisson’s eighteenth birthday party, when he punched a classmate who put his hand on her thigh.

“It’s been hell being back home,” Bryan said.

“Where are you from?” Amelia asked.

“Out in Anza,” Bryan said. “There’s not much to do. But you can make your own fun.”

She had grown up in San Diego, but when Art said he lived to the ‘East’, he wasn’t being unreasonably vague. The furthest east she had ever been was to Julian, and that was because Lauren insisted on getting one of the famous apple pies every Thanksgiving to bring to whatever committee she was serving on. Anza was an hour further with nothing around it.

“Like fireworks for fun,” Amelia offered.

“Oh yeah, Art has a real fetish for fireworks,” Bryan replied with raised eyebrows and a chuckle.

Bryan extended his hand for Art’s empty beer can and then headed for the kitchen trash. She turned her attention to Madisson, who had a distant look in her eyes. Patting Madisson’s thigh a couple of times, Amelia mouthed, “You okay?”

Madisson’s lips curled, and her eyes flicked to the closed bedroom door, and back again, then she shrugged.

Amelia’s mouth curled, and she kept her hand on Madisson’s thigh.

Bryan returned with new cans of beer for him and Art. He unclipped his carabiner key ring and flipped a house key out like a switchblade. Stabbing the beer can, he dragged the key in a circle to make a coin-sized hole. Art took the key and followed suit.