Page 138 of For the Boys
It was shaping up to be the perfect night.
“Got our eighth man!” Rat said, beaming at Brent as they arrived at the flip cup table. “Let’s play.”
They broke into two teams, each lining one side of the table. Brent would go last the first round, then start the next one off as they rotated.
Opening-round cheers were made, the two players starting at opposite ends of the long table, and then they were off. Grey started for their team, only slopping a bit of beer down his chin as he quickly downed his cup. He set the cup on the table and flipped it on the first try. Down the line they went, some taking longer than others, their cups tumbling end over end, not landing on the right one for several attempts.
Then it was Brent’s turn, and the opposing team reached their final player at the same time. Brent downed his drink in one swallow and set the cup down before him, balancing it on the edge of the table. His athleticism would serve him well if he made small, controlled movements. The guy at the opposite end of the table moved frantically, flipping his own cup too forcefully. Cheered on by his teammates, Brent brought his middle finger up under the bottom of the cup and gave it one soft but firm tap.
It flipped and landed on its rim with a satisfying thunk.
“Winners!” a girl shouted from Brent’s left, apparently acting as a referee.
Brent played what felt like an endless number of rounds before he excused himself. He needed to empty the tank, and he wanted to find his girlfriend.
After he’d taken care of business and exited the bathroom, he heard two people arguing in a quiet alcove around the corner.
One of those people sounded a lot like Berkley.
Brent hated to eavesdrop, but when he heard Parker’s voice, he couldn’t help it: he froze.
“Berkley, please let me apologize.”
“Parker, seriously, leave me alone. I don’t want your apology.”
What the fuck?
“I will leave you alone, just let me get this off my chest.”
Berkley snorted derisively. “You need to get this off your chest? Fine. Let’s hear it.”
Parker sighed. “Look, I’m sorry for how I acted that night. I was really drunk.”
Berkley let out a harsh laugh. “So now you’re trying to make excuses for yourself?”
“No,” Parker said quickly. “That’s not what I meant. I’m just saying I wasn’t all there. I didn’t know what I was doing.”
“You didn’t know what you were doing,” Berkley repeated, anger lacing her voice. “You didn’t know you were trying to force yourself on me in the back of a taxi? Bullshit. You weren’t that drunk, and you know it.”
“Berkley, I really am sorry. I hope you can find a way to forgive me, and I hope Brent never has to find out about this.”
“I will never forgive you, Parker. But I can promise you Brent will never find out what you did to me.”
Brent saw red and found himself around the corner, grabbing Parker and throwing him to the ground in front of the pool tables before he had even registered moving.
Somewhere far-off, he heard a scream and Berkley yelling his name.
“You attacked my girlfriend?” Brent roared at Parker, who was getting to his feet.
Parker stood fully and held his hands out in front of him in surrender. “Jean, it’s not what it sounds like. I was drunk. Nothing happened.”
Berkley grabbed Brent’s arm. “Listen to him, Brent. Nothing happened. I’m fine. Forget about it. Please.” She tugged his arm, trying to get him to look at her.
“Something obviously happened,” he said to Berkley, still glaring at Parker.
“Brent, seriously. Forget it. Let’s go.” Berkley was pleading, fingers digging into his bicep as she tried to drag him away. But Brent couldn’t bring himself to look at her, couldn’t take his eyes from Parker, the piece of shit who had attacked the love of his life.
He wanted to ruin him.
