The After of Us (Judge Me Not #4)(3)

It didn’t work. Cass was still using, only with a whole new set of people, kids that were far from straight-laced. She still texted me too, all the time, even when I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore.

I knew it was time to move on. Like, for real.

But, I had just turned sixteen and was horny as hell. So when Cass started asking me to meet her just to hook up, I’d go.

Every … single … time.

As a result, we ended up having sex all over town—in the backseat of the car my mom had given me for my sixteenth birthday, in alleys where we once scored drugs, and in cheap motels, located in the parts of Vegas tourists never see.

I wasn’t doing any drugs that summer. Except for one—Cassie.

I’d given up all the bad things, but I couldn’t quite give up on her. Not until her mom found out we were seeing one another did it end. Mrs. Sutter made sure it was over for us when she moved away. Taking Cassie with her, of course.

Off to a different state, they flew. At least I think they settled in a different state. I don’t really know for sure. All I do know is I haven’t seen Cassie since the last day we were together, almost six years ago.

That doesn’t mean I still don’t think about her from time to time. Not a lot, granted, but sometimes, like now.

I wonder if she ever got her life together, the girl I once loved. I wonder if she got clean. Did she go to college? Maybe she got married? Hell, she could even have a kid by now, for all I know.

But mostly, beyond all those things, I hope my first love found the inner peace she so desperately sought.





Will



I spend the next day just chilling. Mom calls to remind me she has an appointment booked for me with Greg’s tailor the following afternoon.

“Oh, joy,” I mock.

“Will.” Her voice is stern, but there’s an underlying excitement. She’s amped I’ll be wearing suits to work, and it shows when she adds, “I already informed the tailor to put whichever suits you like on my tab. Go and get fitted, and whatever you choose can be sent to you in New York.”

“Okay, okay,” I acquiesce.

Too bad I don’t share my mom’s enthusiasm for all this business-man shit.

Nonetheless, like the dutiful son I’m striving to be, I show up at the tailor’s on Wednesday afternoon, cheery and ready to get some suits fitted. I even go so far as to don a nice white dress shirt, all crisp and new, so the guy fitting me can get the measurements for my suit jackets exactly right.

I stick with washed jeans on my lower half, though, simply so I still feel like myself.

It all goes smoothly at the tailor’s shop, and afterward I stop by the supermarket to pick up some beer for the party tomorrow. The bash is definitely a go for Thursday night. I managed to get word out, albeit on a limited basis. I just don’t have the contacts I used to.

At the store, however, I run into an old friend, Nash, who has more than enough contacts to make this party a raging success. Nash is a guy with messy blond hair and surfer-boy good looks. He also possesses killer charm and knows everyone.

After the obligatory fist-bump, bro hug, and quick catch-up on what’s brought me to town for a few days, he says, “Graduated from Pepperdine, huh? That’s cool.”

“It is,” I agree. “I never thought a kid like me would make it through a school like that.”

Nash eyes me curiously then, making a face as he takes in my starched button-down and overall clean-cut appearance. My look is a definite contrast to his long hair, faded board shorts, and ripped tee.

“I’m not surprised,” he says quietly. “It seems you’ve changed a lot.”

I let out a nervous chuckle. “Hopefully not too much, man.”

It’s true; I don’t ever want to lose who I am. Though I have changed in good ways, I don’t ever plan on ending up being seen as some stuffy, boring dude.

Smoothly switching the subject from me to him, I ask Nash, “So, what’ve you been up to lately?”

“Oh, hell, not much. Just the same old shit, you know?”

I nod, and he shrugs, the tips of his blond hair brushing at his shoulders. “I was in school for a while,” he goes on, “but I ran out of funds. I got a job now, though. Over at that lab on Santa Rosa.”

“Oh, yeah,” I reply grimly. “I know the place.”

I do know the lab, all too well. I was sent to that damn place too many times to count, for piss tests when Mom didn’t quite believe I’d quit doing drugs.

Nash rouses me from my reverie when he asks where I’m off to once I leave Las Vegas. I’m happy to talk about something else, so I tell him about my new job.

“Sounds like a great gig,” he says, once I’m finished. “When you leaving town?”

“Not till the end of the week. I fly out bright and early on Friday morning.”

Nash’s eyes—a little blue and a lot bloodshot—take me in once more. “Damn, dude.” He points to my shirt that he scowled at earlier and says, “Looks to me like you’re ready to leave, like, f*cking today.”

Laughing, I explain. “My mom made me an appointment with my stepdad’s tailor. I just came from there. I was getting fitted for some new suits.”

“Wow.” Nash snickers. “I can’t believe Will Gartner is going to be wearing a suit every day, joining those nine-to-five f*ckers. That’s pretty unbelievable, man. You know, based on all the crazy shit you used to do.”