Overkill(20)

He blamed most of the buzzkill on Cal. If ever there was an argument against matrimony and monogamy, one only had to compare the old Cal with this humorless and uptight incarnation. Marriage had drained him of all vivacity and humor.

The old Cal Parsons had never turned down a dare; he’d been game to try anything and everything. Tall, blond, rangy in build, he only had to give a woman his sultry smile and off came her panties. His success with women had been the envy of fraternity row at the University of Georgia.

The envy of Eban Clarke in particular.

His wife, whatever her name was, had ruined him. She’d made him dull as dirt.

By nature, Theo Simpson was self-effacing and studious. He’d never possessed Eban’s and Cal’s derring-do, and only their corrupting influence had saved him from being a hopeless bookworm. Under their guidance and goading, he’d shed some of his reserve, but Eban wondered now if he’d relapsed into his former, circumspect self.

Wearing his characteristic lopsided grin, he listened attentively to Eban’s exaggerated stories about his time in the “zoo” and the “still-evolving species” he’d encountered there.

Theo laughed in all the right places, but underlying his laughter was his annoying inbred caution. He frequently glanced at Cal as though seeking approval for his levity. That began to grate on Eban, because since they’d founded their friendship during rush week at UGA, he’d been the ringleader of the trio.

Of course, he’d always footed the bill, too, making his leadership role undisputed.

They finished their steak and lobster combos and ordered dessert. “How about a round of Louis XIII to wash down the chocolate mousse?”

“None for me,” Cal said.

“Come on. My treat.”

Cal shook his head. “Thanks, Eban, but I’ve got to drive home.”

Eban guffawed. “You drive better drunk than you do sober.”

Cal smiled, but it was strained. “I’m out of practice.”

Eban rolled his eyes. “Jesus.” He turned to Theo. “You won’t turn it down, I know.”

“I’m gonna pass, too, but you have one.”

Just because he could, and because he wanted to establish himself as a big spender with the robotic barman, Eban ordered the cognac.

Ceremoniously, the hostess brought it to their table on a silver tray. “For you, Mr. Clarke?”

“Yes. But call me Eban.”

She smiled as she set the snifter in front of him. “Enjoy.”

As she walked away, he said, “What I’d enjoy is getting her on her knees. What do you think, boys? Would a hundred-dollar bill buy me a blow job?”

“Shh, Eban. Please.”

That from Theo as he looked around anxiously. Cal said nothing, just stared down at the tablecloth as he traced the weave of the fabric with the tip of his finger.

Eban pressed himself against the back of the booth. “What is it with you two?” For an answer, he looked first to Theo, whose leg was jiggling beneath the table. “Well?”

Theo said, “After what happened, it would look bad, sound bad for anyone to overhear you saying things like that.”

“Oh, for chrissake.”

Cal raised his head from his study of the tablecloth and glared at him. “No, Eban, for our sakes. Mine and Theo’s. You’re out. But we have another year of probation left.”

Eban divided a look between them. “Oh, I get it. You’re jealous that I beat the system.”

Cal sat perfectly still for an extended time, then calmly took his napkin from his lap and laid it on the table. “You didn’t beat the system, Eban. You bought it.” He pushed back and stood up. “Thanks for dinner.”

And just like that, he left them.

Eban felt flushed, not from the embarrassment of having a guest walk out on him, but from rage. He shot the cognac like it was rotgut rye.

As he returned the snifter to the table with a hard thump, he said, “I didn’t hear him complaining when I was shelling out money for weeklong parties in Cancún. I bought the dope he did, the booze he guzzled, the girls he fucked.”

“He didn’t mean—”

“Hell he didn’t. And stop that goddamn jiggling. It’s driving me to distraction.”

Under the table, Theo’s leg went still. He gnawed on his lower lip, fiddled with the stem of the strawberry that had garnished his chocolate mousse, and eventually worked up his courage, something he’d always had to do before engaging in even the mildest of disagreements, like whether or not hot dogs were better with slaw or chili.

“Here’s the thing, Eban.”

Eban raised his hands from his sides and appealed to the ceiling. “Glory hallelujah! Let me hear the thing.”

Theo deliberated for so long, Eban wanted to slap him to see if he was still conscious. At long last, he said, “The thing is, we can’t pick back up where we left off. We had some wild times, but they got out of hand, and then… then they caught up with us. Big time. That business, what happened, was a wake-up call.”

“It was a time-out.”

Theo shook his head. “It changed things forever.”

“It didn’t change me.”

“Well, it did Cal and me. Especially him, because I never did party as hard as you two. He has a lot more to live down.” He glanced toward the hostess stand, where the young woman had returned to her post. “He’s not looking to score.”