Stranger in the Lake(27)

Paul snorted, but Micah didn’t crack a smile. He just stared at Jax in that way of his, his face a concrete slab. “Better than being a buzzkill.”

That familiar angry fire, Jax’s old friend, flicked to life in his chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means the whole time we’ve been up here, all you’ve done is stare out the window. You haven’t cracked a smile. You haven’t said more than three words. It’s pretty obvious you don’t want to be here, so do us all a favor, will you, and go home.” Micah turned back to the CDs.

“Fuck you.”

Micah whirled around. “What did you just say?”

This time, Jax said it louder, exaggerating the words. “I said fuck. You. Fuck you.”

“Stop it, both of you.” Paul, playing the peacemaker as usual. He leaned forward in his favorite chair, a leather-lined acrylic bubble that hung from a giant hook in the ceiling, big enough for two people. It was modern and ridiculously cool, just like Paul. “Nobody’s going home, so, Jax, chill. Micah, put on a new CD.”

Micah managed one last glare in Jax’s direction before selecting one from the pile. “Please tell me you don’t really listen to this shit. Where’s the Zeppelin? The Skynyrd and Steve Miller? This is some girlie-ass music you got here, dude. Who the hell is Coldplay?”

Predictable. Ever since Jax’s mother died, this had been Paul’s strategy whenever the two argued, to distract and provide cover by drawing Micah’s fire. Paul knew Micah would rag on Paul’s music, because he always ragged on Paul’s music. And Micah fell for it every time. He was blind to the way Paul was always ten steps ahead of the trends. His music, his clothes and hair, even his bedroom, sleek and shiny and the opposite of the overstuffed house downstairs. Whatever Paul surrounded himself with was what everybody wanted years from now.

“They’re already huge in the UK.” Paul grinned, sounding not the least bit offended. “A major German label just signed them. Put it on and you’ll see.”

Micah chucked the CD back onto the shelf. “Who cares about the UK? We live in America, remember?”

“Led Zeppelin is British.”

Micah frowned. “No, they’re not.”

“They are. Look it up.”

“Whatever.” Micah flopped onto Paul’s bed, swinging his dirty shoes up onto the white duvet, leaving twin streaks across the bottom. “This is boring. I’m bored.”

Only boring people get bored. Jax’s mother’s words whispered through his mind with a painful pang. If she were here, she’d be bothered by Micah, too. He was eighteen, six months older and the son of the man everybody said was buying his way to the top of the town’s police force. Mom wouldn’t like the way Micah thought it gave him permission to do whatever he wanted, either.

“What do you want to do?” Paul said, rocking the swing with a toe. “You want to go somewhere?”

“This is Lake Crosby,” Jax reminded them. “There’s nothing to do.”

Micah reached behind him for a pillow, threw it at Jax’s head. “It’s Saturday night, dumbass. There’s bound to be some people out. Let’s go to town, see what everybody’s up to.”

“Micah’s right. I think I’m just going to go home.” Jax made like he was leaving, sitting up on the lounger, looking around for his keys, even though home was the very last place he wanted to be. The thought of going back there, of another minute in that house, made his chest hot all over again. Everybody here knew it was an empty threat.

Paul unfolded himself from the chair, stilling it with a hand. “Don’t go home, Jax. Come with us.”

“Come with you where?”

“To town. Out.”

“The only people in town this time of year are the tourists.”

“Even better.” Micah sat up on the bed, plunking his feet onto the floor. “Let’s see if we can find a bachelorette party. Those girls are always up for a good time.”

Jax rolled his eyes. “Those girls are also ten years older.”

“So?”

“So you’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being a buzzkill. Again.”

“Would both of you just stop?” Paul said, stepping directly between them. “We’ve been friends for too long for this kind of hostility. Where’s this coming from?”

Jax glared at his friends, and he didn’t know, either, though full disclosure, it wasn’t all that sudden and lately Jax harbored a hostility for everything and everyone. The three of them had been friends for ages, and for most of that time, he actually liked hanging out with Micah. Micah was fun and funny and a little crazy but in a good way, the kind of guy who was always the life of the party.

But lately, Jax had started noticing a streak that shot through the core of Micah, like the coal that used to snake through the Appalachians before they tore it all out. The way he was always hanging upside down from bridges or rappelling down waterfalls, how he always had to be the loudest person in the room. It was like Micah always had something to prove, and the older they got, the more Jax thought it was stupid.

Paul held out a hand, his body poised to haul Jax off the lounger. “Come on, man. It’ll be like old times.”