My cup needs a refill anyway. It always needs a refill at a party like this. Cheap 3.2 beer. In fact, I chug one down and go for another. Cassidy and Marcus are now talking to another one of the basketball players and his girlfriend. That’s all right, I tell myself. There’s no reason I shouldn’t go over there. Of course, Cassidy was bound to show up with Marcus. This isn’t the night we hook up again. This is just the night when she realizes how inevitable it is for us to hook up again.
“So, what’s up, people?” I say, approaching Cassidy’s little group. “What’s the deal, no one has a beer yet?”
“I’m not drinking,” says Marcus. “But I see you have two beers yourself.”
“I just brought an extra in case anyone else wants one.” I’m looking straight at Cassidy.
“Sure,” she says. “Thanks.” Not even one sarcastic remark about me and beer to go along with it. Now the friends they’re talking to—Derrick and Shannon—that’s a different story. They’re both staring at me like I’m some kind of notorious strangler who just showed up with a bouquet of dead roses at his latest victim’s funeral.
I’m not here to make any trouble, though. At least nothing blatant. I’m just going to hang around and let my natural positivity vibrate, maybe drop a code word here and there that only Cassidy and I know the meaning of. I don’t need to make any big declarations. I don’t need to pick fights or show off or come riding in on a gleaming white steed. Just letting the good old inner Sutterman radiate out in waves will be more than enough to remind Cassidy of what she’s missing.
We haven’t been talking for more than ten minutes before I have everybody laughing, even Derrick and Shannon. They’re rolling over this story about the time in grade school when I staged a footrace between a schnauzer and a poodle and sold tickets. Listen, it’s hard not to have a good time around me. I know what I’m doing. I’m a fun guy. I spread the prosperity to each and all.
I’ve just reached the end of the story when I hear a voice over my shoulder. “What’s so funny?”
It’s Denver Quigley. He’s tall with wiry blond hair and a big, heavy, Neanderthal forehead. I never could understand what Alisa Norman sees in him, not so much because of his looks but because he’s about as entertaining as ten pounds of asphalt.
So I look him in the eye and go, “Schnauzers.”
And he’s like, “What?”
“Schnauzers. That’s what’s funny. It’s just a hilarious word, don’t you think?”
A dull, annoyed look falls across his eyes. “Whatever, Sutter. Has anyone seen Alisa?”
“Sure,” I say. “I saw her a while ago walking down by the lake with Jason Doyle.”
His eyes flare. “Doyle?” He spits the name out like a mouthful of spoiled milk.
“They were just having a little friendly conversation,” I say, and Quigley goes, “Well, maybe I’ll just have to give him a little friendly ass-kicking.”
He starts away into the crowd and Marcus is right behind him going, “Hey, Denver, now, I’m sure it’s nothing. Slow down.” Derrick and Shannon are tagging along too, and Marcus looks back over his shoulder and tells Cassidy to wait there, he’ll be right back.
After they disappear into the crowd, she shoots me this withering gaze. “What are you up to now?”
“Me? I’m not up to anything.”
“Is Jason Doyle even with Alisa?”
“He might be. He seemed to have the idea that she dumped Quigley like a lump of frozen shit out of a 747.”
“And you didn’t have anything to do with that?”
“Would it piss you off if I did?”
She smiles. “Not really. Jason deserves it.”
“I do what I can in the name of justice. Ready for another beer?”
“Sure.”
So now it’s just me and Cassidy, the way it should be. We hit the keg, and I give her the lowdown on how well Ricky’s making out with Bethany. She’s happy for Ricky and has to admit I did a good thing helping them get together.
“So, do you believe me now that I was just hanging around with Tara Thompson to help Ricky out?” It’s a bold question considering the touchiness of the subject, but sometimes you just have to open the hatch and make the leap.
She stares at me for a moment, then nods. “Yeah,” she says.
“I guess I do. But I don’t think you were making all that much of a sacrifice. I mean, Tara’s pretty cute.”
“Well, let me see, who would I really prefer?” I hold my hands out like scales. Cassidy’s my beer hand. “Over here I have cute Tara.” I lower my non-beer hand a little with the weight of Tara’s cuteness. “And over here, I have spanktaculiciously beautiful you.” I drop the beer hand way down. “I think it’s pretty obvious, don’t you?”
She scrunches her nose and shakes her head. “Don’t smile at me like that. You know what that smile does to me.”
“Oh, I’m irresistible, all right.” I turn the smile up a notch to high beam. “There’s nothing I can do about that.”
Just then, a shout rises up on the other side of the crowd. Somebody’s pissed off.
“Uh-oh,” I say. “Quigley must’ve found Jason.”
Sure enough, sounds of a scuffle follow another angry shout, and the crowd surges back. Cassidy and I circle around to get a better view, and it’s Quigley, all right, but it’s not Jason he’s pounding. I don’t even recognize the guy. Must be some dude from another school who doesn’t know the dangers of flirting with Alisa Norman.