Page 84 of Mic Drop

Five minutes later, I get a text. Pulling my cell out of my pocket, the name Curtiss greets me. “It’s from Curtiss,” I tell Luke as I open the message.

I found some things. Can you come to my parents’ house? Or where can I meet up with you?

I exchange a look with Luke and instruct the driver to take us to my hometown, not too far from here. Where his parents still live. Maybe today will turn out even better than we hoped?

About an hour later, we pull up in front of my boyhood best friend’s house. The siding color’s changed, but otherwise it’s as I remember it. Same landscaping. Same basketball hoop over the garage. Same mailbox.

“Are you sure you want me with you?”

“I am. If this evidence is as damning as Curtiss believes it is, I’m going to need an unbiased opinion about how best to use it against Lissa. Because make no mistake about it, I want that woman to go down. And take Michelle with her.”

“Then let’s do it, B.”

Tossing fast food wrappers into the bag, we get out of the car. Side by side, we walk up the path to the front door. Before I touch the doorbell, I need his confirmation. “You already know why I wantyou here with me. Are you sureyouwant to be here? I don’t want to make things uncomfortable.”

“Believe me, there’s nowhere else I’d prefer to be. I want to bring this chick down. No one makes fake accusations against my friend and gets away with it.”

Friend. The truth settles over my shoulders and gives me pride, lodging deep in my heart.

“Then let’s do it.” I push the button. “Friend.”

Curtiss answers the door like he did so many times when I was growing up. Only now, full size and without a screen between us, the truth hits me. He’s older, balding, and sporting a dad bod. The years haven’t been kind to him.

“Bennett,” he pushes up his glasses and dons a large smile. The one I do remember from when we were kids—the smile, not the glasses. He extends his hand, and I shake it.

“Hey, Curtiss. This is Luke Allen, UC’s manager. I asked him to come with me so we can begin to craft an effective response to Lissa.”

Luke extends his hand. “We talked briefly on the phone a while back.”

The door opens wider, and Curtiss ushers us in. “My parents are away for the next few hours, so we can speak freely.”

When I enter the house, memories blast at me from every corner. Learning how to play checkers on the floor over there. Big Twister games in that corner. Epic Monopoly competitions in the dining room. “Wow.”

“Yeah,” Curtiss concurs.

He leads us into the kitchen, where he offers us lemonade in addition to beer. Hope springs up. “Is it your mom’s famous pink lemonade?”

From the fridge, he pulls a container containing pink liquid. “The one and only.”

My salivary glands get a workout. “Yes, please.” Curtiss beams back at me.

Luke’s head bounces between Curtiss and me. “Seems like I have to have a glass too.”

“Three lemonades coming up.” He opens the cabinet containing glasses and gets to work.

I slide into the chair that used to be “mine” at his house, my fingers tracing some scratches I made long ago. For a moment, I let my mind wander down the what-if path. What if Curtiss didn’t ask Lissa to the prom? What if I didn’t join UC? What if Curtiss and I were still best friends? Would I have turned out like him, living a boring adult life without any zing?

He shuffles over and gives us our lemonades. I sip the tart nectar. I’m being unfair. Curtiss could be content with his lot in life, and I could be judging him unfairly.

“So,” Luke asks, “What do you do, Curtiss?”

I lean onto my forearms.

“I run a marketing agency in Philly.”

“Impressive,” my manager replies. “Married? Kids?”

He’s asking all my questions. I take another sip of his mother’s lemonade.

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