Chapter 6

They parked the car near a small white house and climbed out. They were barely on the porch, offerings of alcohol in their hands, before the door opened. Mark greeted them with a fake-friendly smile. "Hey, hey! Look who it is! Come on in." He moved aside so they could enter. "I don't think you've been here since we painted our living room."

The emphasis on the word "our" made Patrick's teeth grind.

"Hailey picked out the color. What do I know about decorating, huh?" Mark laughed his fake horse laugh and Patrick's jaw tightened.

Anthony nodded to a wall. "Yeah, looks cool, man. Where do we put the booze?"

"In the kitchen." Mark led them through the living room, past the handful of people who'd gathered there. A couple of them nodded as they passed.

"Baby!" Anthony abandoned Patrick for the pretty redhead leaning on the kitchen counter. Their hug melted into the kind of kiss that made Patrick look away.

The girls around them giggled and Mark cooed, "Ah, look at the lovebirds. They're still in the honeymoon phase."

Like you know shit about a honeymoon phase, you jackass.

Mark stuffed Patrick's beer in the fridge and handed him back a cold one. That's when Hailey swept into the room.

Patrick gave her a stiff nod and looked away, but she was burned into his eyes, more memory than reality. Brown hair skimmed her shoulders and freckles kissed her pale cheeks. Not too thin, but not thick, with rounded hips, decent breasts, and under her jeans a pair of long tanned legs.

Though he should be over her by now, the girl was his kryptonite. She'd hung on the edge of his circle in high schoolthe pretty girl slumming it with the low-lifes. They'd even dated during her junior year, though he was done with school by then. He always wondered if that was why it hadn't worked out; while she was worrying about pimples and grades, he was trying to help his mom cover bills. After they broke up, he'd been with her a couple of times , but they'd never clicked again. Three years ago, she started dating his friend Mark. Patrick wasn't a complete asshole and, once a girl belonged to a friend, that meant hands off. The funny thing was, as the years passed, he liked Mark less and less, and sometimes wondered why he was still sticking to it.

"Hi, Pat."

He glanced back to her, to see a smile that didn't seem genuine. "Hey."

"It's about time you came to one of our parties. Mark was starting to think you didn't like him."

Mark moved to slip an arm around her. "No, I wasn't. I know he's been busy. And we've been busy." He nibbled her neck, but instead of leaning into it, she grimaced and pulled away.

Patrick wanted to be happy for them or had wanted to at one time. Now he just wanted to go home. Why the fuck did I let Anthony talk me into this?

As though the thought was a psychic message, Anthony disentangled himself from his girlfriend to clap Patrick on the back. "Come on. Unless you guys wanna hang out in the kitchen all night?"

***

In the living room, a gaggle of girls zoomed through an MP3 player like pros. It took half an hour before they lost interest in playing DJ.

"Thank God," Anthony muttered over his third beer. "That dance shit was giving me a headache."

Patrick took a hit from the joint and handed it to the blonde girl next to him. The smoke came out a moment later and he coughed. "You're not supposed to get a headache until tomorrow."

"Exactly, man. Exactly. You wanna get that?"

"Get what?" Patrick looked at the blonde girl and stifled a giggle. He'd be happy to get that, all right.

"The music man. Plug in your phone oh fuck. I forgot you have that ancient piece of crap."

"My phone's fine. It calls people."

"Yeah, but it don't do nothin' else. Never mind. I got this." Anthony peeled Twila off his lap and moved to the stereo.

Patrick finished the last of his beer and stood up. The room tilted and he grinned.

"Where you going?" The girl next to him looked up with luminous eyes.

He rattled the bottle. "To get another beer. You want one?"

"Yeah." She smiled, and he gave her a wink before he stumbled into the kitchen. He pulled a beer from the fridge and popped the top when the backdoor opened and Hailey walked in.

"Look Harold, mind your own fucking business, all right?"

Followed by her brother, Christenson. The Prick.

"This is my business."

"No it's not! It's my life! Just fuck you!" Hailey slammed back outside and left her brother in the kitchen.

"No, fuck you!" he shouted. Then he turned and saw Patrick. "What're you lookin' at?"

Patrick snickered. Once the football star, Harold Christenson had gone on to do nothing with his life. A dead end job, a used car, and an empty bed were all the prick had. Funny he still thought he was hot shit. "I'm lookin' at a big dick named Harold."

Christenson growled and stepped closer. His nostrils flared, and his fists were like hams at his sides. "You think you're funny, Mullens? You're a worthless piece of shit."

"Yeah," Patrick agreed gleefully. "But shit always floats to the top while losers like you sink right to the bottom." He illustrated it with his hand and a bubbling noise.

Christenson roared and would have punched Patrick if Mark hadn't walked in. Indecision played on the big guy's face, then he spun on the newcomer. "You me now!"

Mark looked suitably horrified. Patrick suppressed a giggle and escaped through the nearest door, into the scraggly backyard. The back steps were cinder blocks and he tripped down them. He caught his balance at the bottom and started to crunch through the frozen grass, toward the front of the house, when he heard a sob.

He blinked in the direction of the sound. Hailey leaned against the back fence, huddled in her sweater. The street lights turned the tears on her cheeks to jewels and his chest tightened.

Aw fuck.

This was one of those moments when he should walk away. Instead, he walked toward her.

"Hey, Hailey. You okay?"

She started, then relaxed. "Oh, hey, Pat. Yeah, I'm fine." She swiped the evidence from her cheeks and gave him a weak smile. "Having fun?"

"Eh." He shrugged his shoulders and moved to stand next to her. An alley ran behind the fence, graveled with rocks and the odd bit of trash. "Whatcha' looking at?"

She sighed and turned back to the view. "My life mainly."

Alarm bells rang in Patrick's head, but it was too late. "What about it?"

"I'm pregnant."