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“What’ll it be, boys?” the man behind the bar asked. The poor guy was always here. I wondered if he ever took a day off.
“Two brewskis, Mike, and shots of tequila on the side.”
I started to open my mouth and Marcus threw out his hand.
“Don’t say it. My treat,” he barked.
“Oh, your treat for a change?” I teased since he never seemed to have money. Not that I minded paying. He had no clue just how much money I had in a dozen bank accounts and never would. Of course, faculty members whispered behind my back, the various ugly rumors something that would bother the normal guy. Since I was anything but normal, I couldn’t give a shit what they said. Little did they know their rendition of my past and my current life was totally off base.
I was much more brutal than they believed.
“Well then, we might have round two.” I grinned at him as I wiped rain from my brow.
“That’s the spirit.”
It had been a long time since I’d just let go, enjoying friendship, which up until six or so years before had been something I hadn’t experienced in my life. There were reasons, beyond my horrid upbringing, but my mistrust of everyone given my family’s background certainly didn’t help. If Marcus knew or cared, he’d never indicated my heritage mattered in the least.
As the beers, shots, and a bowl full of peanuts were placed in front of us, he leaned back in his chair, his actions almost as if he owned the place.
“You’re contemplative tonight,” I said, shelling and popping a peanut, another reminder of my previous nocturnal activity.
“Yeah, you know me. Shit on my mind. I never asked you. Have you done anything considered wrong or immoral in your life?”
By then, I’d taken a sip of the cold brew, nearly spewing the liquid from my mouth. “Immoral? As in fucking a college girl?”
He grinned as only he could do. “Yeah, something like that. It’s oh-so against the rules. Maybe you didn’t know this about me, but I can’t stand rules.”
Since he’d been the one to fight something every single staff meeting, yeah, I did know that about him. Maybe that’s why we got along so well. He added normalcy to my life, something I hadn’t experienced prior to our friendship.
“Next you’re going to tell me you’re a serial killer,” I chided.
He gave me that kind of look reserved for one of your buddies. “Ri-ight. I wouldn’t know how to carry that shit off. Who does that with a clear conscience anyway?”
“You might be surprised,” I mused as I gulped a portion of my beer.
“So spill it,” Marcus pushed. “I bet you’ve never done a bad thing in your life.”
“Does shoplifting from a convenience store count?” I asked, half laughing before taking the tequila shot. It hadn’t been one of my finest hours, but stealing a candy bar, something I hadn’t been allowed, had felt damn good.
“Wow, Mr. All American can do bad things,” Marcus mused.
“I thought you heard all the rumors about me.”
“You mean that you’re a real-life boogeyman. Please. They have no clue what they’re talking about. You’re a pansy ass if you ask me.” He grinned, enjoying teasing me as usual.
“What about you, wise guy?”
I wasn’t expecting his eyes to cloud over, his expression completely changing.
“What? Come on,” I chided once again. “You started this game.”
“Yeah, I know. I don’t think I want to play.”
“Oh, no, you don’t. Not fair in the least. Out with it or I’ll never allow you to live it down. I’ll make up my own stories.”
“You would.” He swirled his shot of tequila, staring up at the old television positioned on the wall. “I don’t know, brother. I was a bad kid, you know? But my brother was even worse.”
“So what did you do?”
