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It had been their getaway spot, and the two men must have crossed in front of the cameras to get there.
This had seemed like a massive fish on the hook, and there I was having to cut the line.
The owners of the corner store promised they would try to fix the file. I figured if they couldn’t, I’d ask Anya to work her techno-magic on the corrupt files and try to get something from them.
Still, there was a chance we’d never get to see what was on that tape.
After I got off that roller coaster, I went to my kickball game where we ended up beating the other team and earning a spot in our city’s big tournament. We had come to the pub to celebrate. Around me sat my four closest friends, all of us still wearing our kickball uniforms: shirtless light-blue tanks with white shorts, our nicknames printed on the back of each shirt, along with our numbers. I had met the guys through our kickball team, the Ball Busters, when I signed up something like ten years ago. Since then, the core five of us stuck together and managed to not only keep our team going for a decade, but our friendships as well.
There was Kyle Ramos, the mate I could go to at whatever time of the day, and he’d be there to offer a few helping words. Corey Meis was the jokester of the group and had zero shame in everything he did. There was one time we went on a cruise together and Corey ended up getting everyone together on the deck for a spontaneous improv show between him and whoever wanted to participate. By the end of the night, people were asking him to make his show a nightly thing.
Across from Corey was Silas Anderson, the hardest one of the group to crack, but once you did break through that prickly exterior, you’d find one of the most caring hearts to have ever beat. He had a rough go at life but was finally beginning to find some real happiness, and we were all happy for him.
For now, though, it wasn’t Silas we were talking about. Tonight I was the center of the conversation.
Or rather, Oliver and I were the center of conversation.
“He’s a really cool kid,” Kyle said. We were all wearing our light-blue jerseys from the game.
I had introduced Oliver to the gang a few days ago and was happy with how it went. Everyone seemed to get along, even though there was some awkwardness to overcome in the beginning. Our age difference wasn’t as apparent when it was just me and him together, but I could tell Oliver initially had some trouble being surrounded by men twice his age. I feared that there wouldn’t be anything to talk about and that we’d all stare into the bottom of our drinks for the entire night.
But of course Oliver found a way to crack the ice. It was Oliver Brightly for crying out loud—he could get along with a bucket of ice and a room full of frogs if he had to. Soon enough, we were all cracking jokes and taking the piss, the night flying by.
“I liked him,” Corey said. He leaned back, his bald head reflecting some of the light off the setting sun. “And you really, really liked him. I mean, you were drooling all over the place the other night.”
“I didn’t drool anywhere,” I assured him, crossing my arms and looking out to the sidewalk. It was filled with vacationing beachgoers walking, many of them carrying their umbrellas and chairs and coolers back to their cars.
“Oh, so that wasn’t drool? I think that’s even worse, buddy.” Corey cocked his head before laughing. Kyle joined in, goading him.
I cracked a smile and felt my cheeks getting red like I was a bloody schoolboy all over again, being teased by my classmates. “I do really like him,” I said when the laughing died down.
Silas leaned onto the table. He had a scar across his cheek that made him look all the more aggro, which was funny seeing as how he got it from a gardening accident and not from a pub fight as he would like people to believe.
“And he likes you, right?”
“Silas, what kind of question is that?” Corey asked before I could respond. “Of course Oliver likes him back. Did you see the way they were looking at each other? I wouldn’t be surprised if the two had snuck off on a midnight date to Vegas and stopped to see Elvis.”
“I’m just saying.” Silas leaned back in the seat. He took a drank of his martini. It was an interesting sight, seeing the beefiest one out of all of us holding up a delicate glass and sipping from the edge. I half-expected him to stick a veiny pinky finger out. “I’ve dated my share of young guys. You’ve met a couple of them.”
