Page 25 of Good Days Bad Days
“See you in another thirty years?” he says as I pull up my hood.
“I’ll try to make it closer to twenty this time,” I say, waving. It takes two of us to open the door, pushing on the glass with the wind driving biting snow crystals against it, stinging any exposed skin once we stumble out into the street.
Michael and Connie huddle together, skipping through the snow, laughing like two kids on the playground. I watch them like I watch the twins when they chase each other around our backyard. It’s good to do this every so often, act like children, access that dormant part ofour spirits that climbed trees, made gourmet meals out of mud, and believed in forevers and happily ever afters.
“This feels right,” Lacey says, slipping her arm through mine, our synchronized breaths tossing great clouds of vapor in front of us.
“It really does.”
“I’ve missed you, girl.” She squeezes my arm against her side in a friendly embrace.
“You too.”
“Was it weird seeing Cameron again? I know you, like, ghosted him before that was even a thing.”
“It was fine—nice, even. I think bygones are officially bygones. We were kids back then,” I say, as though I’ve convinced myself that everything that happens before you turn eighteen can be blamed on immaturity.
Ahead of us, Michael stumbles and nearly falls. Connie holds him up, her feet slipping around on the icy cement. Their laughter bounces off the brick and asphalt and up into the clear, black, star-cast sky.
“Yeah,werekids.” We both giggle at their struggle, then she returns to our conversation about Cam. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Wait,” I say, sensing her comment means more than she’s letting on, “what does that mean? Why are you glad?”
“’Cause I gave him your number,” she says, her eyebrows wiggling. She’s the only one I’ve told about my issues with Ian. She can’t possibly be playing matchmaker so soon after finding out my world might be falling apart. Before I can say any curse words, she lets go of my arm and rushes to meet Michael and Connie standing at the entry to Champs.
“Lacey!!!” I call after her, swearing under my breath and then rushing to catch up.
We don’t talk of Cameron again the rest of the night because any discussion of Cameron would inevitably lead to Ian. So I let it go, reminding myself to tell Lacey fewer secrets, and we end up closing Champs. When Lacey drops me off at my rental at 2:30 a.m., I’m drunkon shots and nostalgia. I lock up, yank off my snow gear, peel off my tight jeans and Ross shirt, and slip into my robe.
Crawling into bed, shivering, I finally look at my phone, something I’ve avoided all night. There I see three texts from Ian and one call past midnight, and two below it from a new number, one a text and the other the picture of our whole group, staring up at the camera, smiling. Cam’s directly behind me wearing a big, cheesy smile, and I’m surprised to see my expression matches his.
The message reads:
Great seeing you tonight. Let’s make a habit of it. Drinks before you leave town?
And then one more.
Oh, this is Cameron.
“Shit,” I say, dropping the device on the empty pillow next to me, burrowing into the flannel sheets and pillow-top mattress. “Oh, shit.”
Chapter 10
Greg
November 7, 1969
Playboy Club-Hotel
Lake Geneva, Wisconsin
“I can’t believe we’re getting paid to go to the Playboy Club,” Mark says, clutching the wheel of his burgundy Impala driving away from the setting sun as it projects warm shadows across the barren harvested fields.
“Sure,” I say, shifting in my seat, smoothing the stiff fabric of my trousers. “It’s not exactly how I planned on spending my Friday night.”
“Are you kidding me? We get to go to the Playboy Club for work, spend the night, and don’t have to pay a cent. And I heard Hollinger got a key. You know what that means, right?”
I don’t know what it means. At least, not exactly. Everybody in the area has been talking about the Playboy Club-Hotel since it opened. Supposed to be like Vegas but nestled in some bucolic corner of Lake Geneva, a resort town an hour away from Janesville.
