Still in fucking Mason River.

I could be back in Chicago by now. I could be rolling up into the Salty Pine, that little bar around the corner from the precinct where me and the boys like to tie a few on and try to fuck whatever pretty little thing thinks she can handle a real cop. I’m usually the one they leave with, and I always have them coming back around begging for more. That’s when the boys can get a taste, because I don’t take them twice.

But here I am, still in Mason. I sigh to myself as I park my rental outside of the Great American again. Around nine at night, the diner crowd thins out, replaced by the pub crowd. That’s how small Mason really is: their most popular bar is also their one big diner.

I can’t help but smile, though. Atticus and I used to spend a lot of time hanging around here. Actually, that’s how we first met.

I was just a kid back then. I was a scrawny kid when I first met Atticus. I was riding my bike along the road and I decided to stop in the Great American for a soda before heading home. I parked, went inside, got my soda, and when I came out there were three older kids standing around my bike.

I told them to back off, but they weren’t looking to rob me. They were looking to have a little fun.

“You want me to back off?” the biggest of the group said, grinning his piggy grin. “I don’t think so, you little shrimp” He shoved me hard, and I slammed back against the wall.

The three boys all laughed, and I can feel tears in my eyes. I was so mad at myself for being a little baby, for being too afraid to fight back. That was the moment I decided I’d never back down again.

But I didn’t have to fight, because that’s when Atticus showed up.

“Leave him alone,” Atticus said. “Jimmy, I know you’re too stupid to realize, but I know your daddy and he’d whoop your ass if he knew what you were doing.”

The big, pig-faced one faltered. “You’d tattle on me, Atticus?” he asked, angrily.

“Hell yeah, I would,” Atticus said. “You three are picking on one kid like a bunch of cowards, so I might as well.”

I thought the big guy, Jimmy apparently, was going to step up and slug Atticus right there. But instead, he just kicked over my bike and the three boys walked away, cursing and laughing.

Atticus walked over to me. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” I said, blinking away the tears. “I’m okay.”

He helped me up from against the wall, and we were friends ever since.

I was probably eight years old back then, maybe younger. I smile to myself and kill the engine before getting out of the car. Nothing’s changed in this town, nothing at all, and yet everything is rotten to the core.

I walk into the Great American. Seeing it again at night, I’m reminded of how seedy the place’s gotten. I wonder if Cora ever comes here, but I doubt it. She doesn’t seem the type to come drinking at this shithole, and I don’t blame her.

It’s packed with local idiots. The kind of guys that barely got through school, since school is for morons and pussies. It’s full of broken dreams and depression, guys drinking too much, hitting on women that long since stopped caring about that kind of thing.

I spot Mitch sitting at the end of the bar, sipping a beer. I catch his eye and he nods to me, waving me over.

“Hey, Mitch,” I say.

He grins at me. “Hey yourself, big guy.”

I sit down next to him and he looks at me, grinning. Mitch isn’t such a bad guy, as far as Mason lifers go. He’s a cop now, which says something about him at least. He’s a couple inches shorter than me, going slightly bald up front, still thin though I doubt that’ll last based on the two empty beers and the third he’s nursing. I order myself a beer and Mitch leans back in his seat.

“Gotta say, I’m surprised you’re back.”

I thank the bartender as she hands me the beer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can’t say Mason River’s got much on the big city.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I grin at him. “But home’s still home, right?”

“Right,” he agrees.

“How have you been?”

“Good,” he says. “Got married a couple months ago.”

My eyebrows go up. I didn’t know that. “To who?”

“Marcie Lane.”

My eyes practically bug out of my skull. “Marcie Lane? You shitting me?”

“Not at all.” He grins proudly.

Marcie Lane was fucking hot back in high school, the kind of girl that every guy wanted. I don’t know how she ended up with Mitch, considering he was the kind of guy everyone ignored.

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture. Sure enough, that’s him and Marcie Lane in wedding photos. Marcie’s still pretty, though she’s gained a lot of weight since high school ended. She still holds it well.

“Good for you, man,” I say, shaking my head. “Marcie Lane. Good for you.”

He laughs and puts his phone away. “Thanks, man. We’re working on the first kid now.”

“Good luck with that.” I hold up my drink. “To your long life and big family.”

“Cheers.”

I sip my drink and glance around the room. I spot a few other guys I vaguely recognized, though mostly everyone’s a stranger to me these days. I’ve been away so long that I don’t fit in anymore, at least it feels that way. Part of me itches to get back home again, but that memory of Atticus scaring off those bullies, and the image of Cora’s pretty face looking so determined, keep making me want to stay.

We fall into small talk. Mostly Mitch catches me up on years of local drama and gossip, which is good, since I don’t have much to say. I don’t want to tell him about living in Chicago, about how much happier I am being away from this small town and its bullshit. But something he says after his third beer is finished really catches my attention.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask him, coming back into the moment.

“The Niners,” he says. “That’s when things really got bad.”

I raise an eyebrow. “They’re the local gang?”

He nods. “Took over the drug trade, practically. I think they’re named after the Tech Nine pistol, but I haven’t bothered asking any of them.”

“Huh,” I say. “I didn’t know there were gangs in Mason.”

“Didn’t used to be,” he admits. “But these last few years, things have been changing. Selling opioids is a big business these days, and selling heroin to the people that can’t afford the pills anymore is an even bigger one.”

I nod, not surprised. That’s a common story these days. So many people get addicted to opioid pills, but the pills are expensive as hell. Eventually, just to keep getting that high, they have to turn to heroin. That’s when the trouble starts.

“Your boy was involved with them,” Mitch goes on. “He was running drugs for them sometimes. A real nobody, as far as they were concerned, but you know Atticus. He always found trouble, even when he wasn’t looking for it.”

That surprises me. I didn’t know Atticus had gang ties. I never pictures him as getting involved with a gang, junkie or not. He just wasn’t ever the type.

But that’s the thing about addiction. It changes you in ways you never thought it possibly could. You’re still you, deep down under the layers of all the bad filthy shit that’s happened to you, but you’re buried so far under your chemical need for drugs that there’s really nothing else left of you. People will do things they never thought they would, just to keep their fix coming in regular.

Seems like Atticus did what any other junkie would do.

“How involved?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Hard to say. They don’t exactly keep membership rolls and don’t like to talk to cops.”

“But involved enough that you’re aware of it?”

He nods. “That we’re sure of. He’s been busted a few times on minor drug charges.”

I nod thoughtfully. “Could be the reason he got killed.”

“Sure, we’re looking into that,” Mitch says. “I mean, the Niners haven’t been going around killing, yet at least. They’re threatening a whole lot, and beating the shit out of folks that cross them, but no killings.”

“Could be the first one.” I sip my drink, mind whirling.

And then I catch myself.

This is what I do. I can’t help it apparently. I told Cora I wasn’t going to get involved, but here I am, getting involved. Just asking questions and thinking this thing through is getting involved. I know myself, and if I let my brain get a hold of this problem, I’ll never let it go.

I glance toward the front of the building. The memory of Atticus, smiling at me that first time we met, comes back again. That’s the kind of guy Atticus used to be. I doubt anyone here even remembers that boy, the one brave enough to stand up to three older kids just to help another kid he didn’t even know. He was smart, and brave, and loyal. He was a good person, before the drugs, before the gang.

“You know any associates?” I ask Mitch, inwardly cursing myself.

“Sure,” he says, looking wary. “I shouldn’t talk about it, though.”

“Look, man. I’m just asking as a friend. I won’t step on anyone’s toes.”

He hesitates. “Had a girlfriend named Kristi, she was involved with the Niners somehow. And there’s also Jaxson Moyer.”

I perk up that that second name. “Jaxson? Really?”

He grins. “Sure. You surprised?”

“Guess not.”

Jaxson was another guy from our grade back in the day. In fact, he’s the guy that Atticus slowly drifted toward, back when he started getting into drugs and our friendship was slowly dying out. Jaxson was the guy that started pulling us apart.

I shouldn’t be surprised that he’s involved with the local gang. That kid was trouble, even back then.

As Mitch starts talking about some other local drama involving Jaxson’s mom and the local Baptist pastor, my mind starts running through scenarios, trying to figure out how Atticus ended up dead. I don’t even have any details or facts, but I can’t help myself. I know these people personally, at least from back in the day. It’s been a long time since high school, and yet being back in Mason makes me feel like that same kid.

Eventually I make up some excuse, and I pay for our drinks. Mitch and I walk out together, and he shakes my hand in the parking lot.

“Listen, if I don’t hear from you again, good luck out there in the big city, okay?”

“Thanks, man,” I say. “And good luck with your family.” I grin at him, shaking my head. “Marcie Lane.”

He grins back. “I know, right?” He waves as he gets into his truck. “See you later, Wyatt.”

I wave and watch him pull out before getting into my rental.

I sit there, staring at the Great American. The memory comes to me again, and again I remember what it was like to have Atticus save me, the relief I felt. We hung out all that afternoon, and I got in trouble for being late, but I didn’t care.

I had a new friend. And soon, he’d become my best friend. We did a lot of things together, were as close as I’ve ever been with a friend.

And then there’s his sister, Cora. I remember what she was like back then. Shy, but smart, and just starting to get pretty. She’s gorgeous now, absolutely stunning. I want her, fucking badly in fact, but something’s holding me back.

I should go home. Go back to my life. Forget about Cora, forget about those lips, those breasts, that perfect perky ass. I shouldn’t imagine what it would be like to lick her pussy until her toes curl and sweat drips off her perfect skin. If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it for the right reason.

And that’s to find my old friend’s killer. I start up the engine of my car, banishing the thought of Cora in my bed. If I’m going to do something stupid, I’m doing it the right way.

But as soon as I start driving again, I start thinking about Cora, and I know everything’s already too mixed up to be clean.