Page 77 of Light in the Dark
“Yep," Riley answers. "That was it, buddy, thanks."
Bear is quiet for a second or two. "You'd'a had to shoot me, Sheriff. Trust me when I tell you nonlethal stuff don't work on me when I get like that."
"And trust me when I tell you I pray you never get like that again, Bear," Cole says, his voice earnest. "And I ain’t a prayin' man."
"You and me both, Sheriff," Bear rumbles. "And it won't, if Noelle's got anything to say about it."
After a bit more chitchat between Riley, Cole, and Bear, they end the call and we get back to crude jokes, increasingly ridiculous stories, and drinking way too much shitty domestic beer.
At some point in the night, Nyx vanishes with the bartender. Maybe an hour before close, Riley leaves the table and goes to mingle with the crowd on the dance floor, and Cole and I watch him flirt with and charm an absurdly hot girl in her early twenties. By the time the bartender hollers last call, those two are all but fucking on the dance floor, and when the lights come on, they bolt out the front door—Riley turning back in the doorway to shoot us a grin and double finger guns.
Cole and I trade glances.
"Your brother sure does have a way with the ladies," Cole says.
I laugh, shaking my head. “Yeah, he does. Always has."
"Think he'll ever settle down?" Cole asks.
I shrug, hesitate, and then nod. "I think so, someday. It'd take a hell of a woman to tame him, though. He may be reformed somewhat, but he's still got a wild streak a mile wide and a mile deep."
Cole claps me on the shoulder, standing up unsteadily. "Well, buddy, time to get on."
I wobble to my feet, closing one eye as the world splits into two and three whirling versions of itself. "Oh, shit. I'm drunker than I thought."
"You and me both, Fee," Cole says. "C'mon. Bry! Help us get outta here, rookie."
Brian shoves his book in his back pocket and ambles over to us, hooking a big arm around each of us and helping us to the squad SUV.
I peer at Brian—or at the three of him. "How'd you get here?"
He snorts a laugh. "Wife dropped me off. Her cousin lives in the area."
"Well, I'm thankful, sir." I give him a salute that almost pulls me off balance.
"Yeah, yeah,” Brian says. “Just get home without barfing in the car and we'll be good."
“Imma do my best, but keep them window buttons handy," I say. I squint at Cole as we settle in the backseat, leaning against each other. "I know why I'm drunk. I know why Riley's drunk. Nyx is just a fuckin' animal. But you, Cole, my guy. I don't know about you." I clap him on the chest. "Whazzup with you, Shurrrrrif Mannix?"
Cole groans, shakes his head. "Ah, fuck. Don't ask me that."
“Too late. Already did."
Cole rests his head backward, letting it loll and roll with the movement of the vehicle. "I'm drinkin' about the one who got away, Felix."
I blink at him. "Whoozzat?"
His head moves side to side—it could be him shaking it, or it could be a loll as we go over a bump. "Nope. Not goin' there, man. Why d'you drink I'm thinkin' about her? Wait, no. That's not right. Why do youthinkI'mdrinkingabout her?" he says, over-enunciating the last sentence.
"Alright, fine," I slur. "What the fuck ever, man. Keep your secrets."
"Don’t be mad, Fee. I just…I can't go there. Fuckin' hurts, you know?"
I look at my friend, and for a split second there's only one of him—golden-blond hair cut short and swept to one side, buzzed to the scalp on the sides, with a short neat beard and brown eyes. I happen to know quite a few of Three Rivers' female residents, married or otherwise, would sell an ovary to get Cole's attention, because the fucker is just that damn pretty. I mean, picture a Midwestern, all-American, down-home boy next door. Picture the swoony hero from a Hallmark romance movie. That's Cole Mannix. Clean cut, jacked, handsome, easy-going but with a firm grasp of his authority as county sheriff.
Back in high school, it was always Riley, Nyx, Cole, and me—Riley and Nyx were the black-haired bad boys, and Cole and I were the golden-haired good boys. Riley was the quarterback who slept with all of the attractive girls in our year and several from the years below us and most of the one older than us; Cole was the star running back with the captain of the cheer squad girlfriend; Nyx was the tight end party animal, and I was the wide receiver who was somewhere between Riley's cocky bad boy and Cole's white knight.
It's the four of us again, and it feels good to be among my guys again. Nyx is always just himself. Back in high school, Nyx was then as he is now—a party animal, the class clown, the one who'd jump off a roof into a pool for laughs and to get the attention of the girls, the one who rode a chopper he built himself to school; he’s the one who, unless you really know him well, you’d never suspect the hidden depths he hides behind the lunatic adrenaline-junkie facade.
