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It would have been, anyway, had there not been a knock at the door even before I could make my way down the hall toward the bedroom.
I thought about ignoring it.
Then, through the door, “Don’t even think about it, Gordo.”
I groaned.
I knew that voice. I heard that voice every day.
I’d just said goodbye to that voice a couple of hours before.
I opened the door.
Rico, Chris, and Tanner stood on my front porch.
They’d obviously gone home and cleaned up. Showers and a change of clothes. Rico wore jeans and a shirt that proclaimed him to be a LOVE MACHINE under long-sleeved flannel. Chris had on his old leather jacket that had once belonged to his father. Tanner was wearing a collared button-down shirt untucked over khakis.
And they were all watching me expectantly.
I said, “No, absolutely not,” and tried to slam the door in their faces.
Before I could, they pushed their way inside.
I thought about splitting open the floor beneath their feet and burying them underneath my house.
I didn’t, because it would make a mess I’d have to clean up later.
And also because there’d be questions.
“We’re going out,” Rico announced grandly, as if he were the answer to all my problems.
“Good for you,” I snapped. “Have fun. Now leave. And where the hell do you think you two are going?”
Chris and Tanner were walking down the hall toward the bedrooms. “Don’t worry about us,” Chris called over his shoulder. “Just stand there and continue looking angry.”
“Robbie was right,” Tanner told him. “I never really noticed the murder eyebrows before. Now I can’t stop thinking about them.”
“You better not touch anything!” I shouted after them.
“Yeah, they’re going to touch a lot of things,” Rico told me, patting me on the shoulder as he passed me by on the way to the kitchen. I could do nothing but follow him, muttering death threats under my breath. He opened the fridge, frowning down at the contents. Which, admittedly, wasn’t much.
“I haven’t been to the store in a while,” I muttered.
“This is sad,” he said. “This makes me sad.”
“Well, you could leave. Then you wouldn’t be sad anymore.”
He reached into the fridge and snagged my last beer. He closed the door and popped the top of the can. “No. Couldn’t even do that. Because I’d be thinking about you here and I would still be sad.” He took a long sip.
I stared at him.
He belched.
I stared some more.
He grinned.
I absolutely did not have to hold myself back from punching him in the face. “Why are you here, Rico?”
