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“I was, but I decided to come back early. Change of plans.”
He raises his hand, signaling for the barkeep. “Couldn’t grow fins fast enough?”
“What? Are you drunk? How much have you had to drink?”
“In ounces or alcohol content?”
“Don’t talk nerdy to me.”
“Har, har. Hardy, har, har.”
A small spurt of laughter escapes my lips. I’m laughing with him, beside him.
“I assume you spent the holiday with your parents?” Foster continues.
“Yeah, just like every year.”
He leans a little closer, and the scent of whiskey wafts off his breath. “And you couldn’t grow fins?”
I narrow my eyes.
“To change into a mermaid,” he says slyly.
“You remembered,” I say, impressed that he recalled the somewhat serious conversation we’d shared a few weeks back.
Tapping his forehead, he replies, “Big brain.”
“Extremely.”
The bartender arrives, and Foster places an order for sixteen shots of flavored vodka, which is pure insanity. Without any question, she sets the glasses on a tray and then begins to fill them with the strong clear liquid.
“Party hard,” I say as the last glass is being filled. “Nothing like a vat of rocket fuel to warm you up on a cool evening.”
Foster pulls out his wallet, gives the woman a few bills, tells her to keep the change, and then lifts the tray from the bar.
“Are you starting a fraternity house?” I ask.
“Nope. Drinking game. Care to join?”
“I would kick your ass at quarters, and I wouldn’t want to embarrass you in front of your friends.”
Slowly walking back toward his table, carrying his tray of rocket fuel for the soul, he says, “Not quarters.”
With my interest piqued, I follow at his side while holding my beer in one hand and Chandra’s in the other. I should be getting back, so I don’t worry my roommate, but a few more minutes can’t hurt. Besides, the longer I avoid Anthony’s company, the better.
“Then, what are you playing?” I ask when we are with his companions.
His friends all stop talking, lifting their gazes to Foster and me.
“It’s elemental,” Foster states, divvying up the shot glasses among the men at the table. He places two in front of each of them and sets the rest at the center of the table.
“Sherlock Holmes?”
“Nope.” He places the empty tray on the unused table next to them and then takes a seat. “The periodic table of elements. Care to join?”
“Aren’t you going to introduce your friend?” one of the dark-haired men says to Foster.
“Guys, this is EJ.” He swipes a chair from the nearby table, placing it in the tight space between himself and a dark blond guy. “EJ, this is the guys.” He pats the wood surface. “Take a seat.”
