Page 76 of The Fireman and the Flirt

We all looked to Bill. He was the decider, unofficially.

Bill raised his glass. “The Comebacks!”

We clinked pints in the center of the table.

We spent the rest of the time catching up. Mitch had to leave early on as his daughter Ellie was coming into town with his granddaughter. Hank talked with pride about a math competition his son had competed in, even if he couldn’t explain what kind of math it was. We chatted about sports, about old teachers and memories of past games. Time whizzed by and also rewound, as if we were chilling in the locker room after a day of classes.

“So are you still staying with your brother and his family?” Bill asked me.

“Yeah, but not for long. I’m in the process of closing on a house for me and Jolene.”

“Get ready to sign a million documents at the closing. I’ve never signed my fucking name so many times in my life,” said Des.

“I’m impressed you could spell your name.” Hank laughed at his own joke.

“Hank, you are the least qualified person at this table to be saying that.” Des arched a thick eyebrow. “Do you remember what you got on your SAT’s?”

“Ketchup,” Hank deadpanned. None of us were academic all-stars, that was for sure, Hank the least of us.

“I might be looking at selling my place next year. Who did you use?” Des asked.

“Cary Perkowski at Prescott Realty.” A smile quirked on my lips. I’d forgotten there was a time when Cary was simply my real estate agent. “He was good. Very diligent.”

I debated telling the guys we were dating. That would drop the whole “I’m bi” bomb, and I might’ve needed another drink in me for that to happen.

“Why does that name sound familiar?” Hank asked.

“He went to South Rock,” I said.

“Isn’t he that gearhead guy?” Hank flicked another peanut into his mouth.

“Gearhead? What the fuck are you talking about?” Hearing the name ignited a match of fury in my chest. I tried playing it off like Hank was crazy and changing the subject. “Where are you thinking of moving to, Des?”

“I think I remember hearing about that,” Des said, ignoring me. “Wait, what happened?”

“He tried to have sex with a car? Something like that?” Hank cocked his head.

“It’s bullshit. Drop it.” I didn’t want to flip out on my newly reconnected teammates, but I wanted to convey I was serious. Unfortunately, that only seemed to egg them on.

“He went down on a gear shift, I think,” said Hank.

“How the hell is that possible?” asked Des.

“Well, it obviously wasn’t in a Chevy. Here, he probably did something like this.” Hank grabbed a cocktail napkin and a pen from his pocket.

“Hank, what the fuck are you doing? Seriously, drop it.” I grabbed for the pen, but Hank used Bill’s back as his surface for drawing.

“There.” Hank handed it to Bill, who showed it to Des. While crude, it accurately showed a guy’s mouth taking the bulbous gear shift.

“Shit,” said Bill.

“That’s impressive. And weird.” Des arched an eyebrow.

“What the fuck is your problem?” I dove across the table, yanked the napkin out of Bill’s hand, and shoved it into my pocket where they wouldn’t dare reach. “It didn’t happen! It was a dumb, made up story that Cary has had to live with ever since. How would you like it if some asshole made up a story about one of your kids?” The guys hung their heads. I’d ruined our night, but I didn’t care. “He’s a good guy, and he doesn’t deserve to have this shit follow him around forever.”

I bolted out of my chair and grabbed my coat. Maybe it was a bad idea reconnecting with these guys. Was this what Cary had to deal with on a daily basis? Constant fear that this story bubbled under every interaction he had? He didn’t deserve this, any of this.

“And by the way, he’s not just my real estate agent. He’s my boyfriend. I’m bi, you fuckwads.”

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