Kate

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Wes catches up to me at the Champagne Bar. He plops down next to me, regarding me over the rim of his mint julep. Even here, in the snobbiest place this side of the pond, he’s managed to find himself a coffee straw. He takes a tiny sip and cocks an eyebrow.

“What’s with the smug look?”

He grins. “You and Max, huh?”

“No!” Really. No. The attraction’s still there—oh, boy, is it ever—but...no. It can’t be more than that. “We’re not together. Just, y’know....united against a common foe.” I can’t fight the smile tugging at my lips. “We still work well together.”

“If you say so.” Wes is giving me a funny look. Amusement, maybe. No—exasperation. Something between the two.

“Anyway....” Almost five o’clock already. Time’s running out. “Don’t suppose you came up with anything?”

Wes huffs into his drink. “Yeah. That’s why I’m drinking at four-forty on a weekday.”

Shit—he’s actually upset. Breaking out the sarcasm and everything. I shoot him a look. He seems worn—by his standards, at least. His tie’s slightly crooked, and there’s a tightness around his lips I rarely see. “You okay?”

“Yeah.” He shakes his head. “Actually, no. I can’t believe—”

“What?”

He takes a long suck on his straw. “This is going to sound awful.”

“Hey—hey! It’s me.” I flick a speck of lint off his shoulder. “You know I won’t judge.”

“No? ‘Cause I’m judging myself pretty hard right now.” The ice rattles in his glass, and I realize he’s shaking. “It’s just...I can’t stop thinking, two days from now, we’ll be watching our clients turn on us, the public, our families, and for what? All this, for Matt fucking Danbury?” He turns away sharply. “Sorry. Sorry. I told you it was horrible. I haven’t slept....”

I reach for him again, a steadying hand on his back. “I’m sure it’s crossed all our minds. On some level.”

“Yeah? Because I—” He catches himself. Lowers his voice. “Because I’ve been cursing his name. Hating him for...y’know, when I first heard he died, before the guilt set in, first thing I felt was relief. Tried to pretend I didn’t, but when I thought of him not being there, in the halls, in the locker room....” Wes plucks out his straw and gulps down the rest of his drink. “I felt it. I did. Like this huge weight sliding off my shoulders.”

“No one could blame you for that.”

“You remember the memorial assembly at school?” He’s twisting his straw around his finger. Vibrating like a nervous Chihuahua.

“Yeah.” Sitting through that, knowing I’d killed him....

“The whole time, I—I.... His friends were telling those stories, all their best memories, and I was in the back, crying my eyes out. Because all I could think was...well, fuck. If I could’ve known that Matt Danbury, even met him just once, he’d still be alive. And you guys wouldn’t... We wouldn’t be....”

“Ssh.” I stroke his back, slow and rhythmic. “Even if we’d all been best friends, who’s to say we wouldn’t have pranked him?”

Wes sniffs.

“We were kids. You were, what, fourteen?”

“Fifteen.”

“You can’t take it all on yourself.” I exhale unsteadily. “We all hated Matt. Max almost quit football when he made the team. And Rachel spat on him in the stairwell—remember?”

He manages something that’s almost a laugh. “And when he looked up, all the cheerleaders were waving.”

“Never did figure out who it was.” If only we’d left it at that. But a loogie down the neck hardly seemed punishment enough. Not for the hell he put Wes through. Even ruining his end-of-summer rager would’ve been a drop in the bucket, if it hadn’t been for the fire. And we couldn’t have anticipated that.

Could we?

Wes straightens up and scrubs at his face with his sleeve. It’s such a childish gesture I’m seized with instant déjà vu. It’s disorienting when he turns around and I’m looking at an adult, red-faced and pinched, the beginnings of crow’s feet around his eyes.

He coughs into his fist. “We should get going.”

“Already?”

“I want to arrive early. In case—I don’t want to miss anything.”

He has a point. Tempers were fraying a week ago. Now, on the verge of calamity, we need every voice of reason we can get.

And it’d be good to talk to Max before the inevitable firestorm. One more moment of calm. One more glimpse of what might have been. What could still be, if only...if only....

I wave for the bill. Time to get this show on the road.