Page 87 of Life After You

The blonde laughs. “I’ll be right back with your orders. And if you’re cool with it, maybe something to sign?”

We nod as the waitresses walk away.

Trey leans back, hands behind his head. “When I conquer this challenge, I expect all of you to refer to me as King Trey.”

The moment stretches, and a nagging feeling settles in my gut. Something uneasy. Something… wrong. But I shake it off, focusing back on Trey.

“Dude, you don’t have to finish the whole thing,” I say.

Trey waves me off. “Yeah, yeah. You’re losing your money, man. Make peace with that.”

The waitress returns, arms laden with plates. Our food looks solid. Trey’s? It’s a mountain of meat, cheese, and grease barely held together by two soggy slices of bread. If he fails, he’s out forty bucks. If he wins… no. There’s no way. And judging by the way his face drains of color, he knows it too.

Trey exhales. “Well… time to dig in.”

Chace snickers. “You are not getting back on the tour bus if you finish that, bro.”

“Ye of little faith.” Trey tears off a chunk of meat, dips it into his water, and shoves it into his mouth. Grease pools on the water’s surface, little bubbles of fat clinging to the rim.

I grimace. “Dude, I don’t even know if I can eat mine after watching that.”

Trey doesn’t answer. He chews, swallows, then immediately hiccups. He chokes, grabs his water, and takes a sip. His lips glisten with grease. He freezes.

I shift closer, patting his back. “Nobody’s gonna think less of you for quitting, man. That looks fucking rough.”

Trey forces a swallow. “I’ve had worse.” But his energy has tanked.

Sam tilts his head. “I’m actually gonna think less of him if he finishes. And I’m the one who’s getting paid.”

“Trey.” Chace leans forward.

Trey lifts his gaze from his… meal? Punishment?

Chace smirks. “Washing the meat might not be a bad idea, considering the shit that just came off it.”

Trey lifts a shaky hand, flipping him off. He can’t even smirk. The food is taking all his focus.

Chace grins. “Alright then, man. You got this. Also, you’ve got about twelve minutes left. Maybe I should order you a side of fries—this is looking way too easy for you, right?” He waves down the waitress.

Trey glares at him. “I… got… this…”

Sam snorts. “No, he doesn’t.”

“Not a fucking chance.” Chace shakes his head.

Sam slides a piece of bacon onto Trey’s plate. “This one’s too fatty for me. Trying to watch my figure.”

Trey sighs, mouth full.

We all win today.

Except Trey.

Trey does not win.

At all.

Turns out, neither do I.

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