Something Wilder(7)
Bradley winced. “He asked me outright. I couldn’t say no.”
“You could, though. It’s easy: ‘No, Terrence. You’re not a part of this tradition.’?”
Terry—Bradley’s roommate from freshman year—remained only tenuously connected to the group, given that he was absolutely the friend one had to apologize for, no matter the situation. Here was a man who once showed up uninvited for beers wearing a shirt that had a picture of a woman with a piece of tape over her mouth and the words Enjoy the silence.
But although Bradley might give Leo shit about Cora and his job and his nonexistent love life, he didn’t do actual conflict; he was everyone’s friend. Leo was the calm center of the group so Bradley could trash-talk in safety. In contrast, Terry was a hothead, finding insult whether or not one was intended. And here they were, about to be trapped with him somewhere clearly remote enough to require the ability to live without cell service.
Awesome.
They pretended not to see Terry wave before he stepped up to the checkin counter a few yards down. While the agent tagged their minimal luggage, Leo glared at Bradley.
“He didn’t use to be this bad,” Bradley argued under his breath.
In college, Terry’s version of weird had manifested as a penchant for collecting bottle caps and not washing his lucky shirt. Present-day Terry collected vintage ammunition and considered feminist and terrorist to be roughly synonymous. Bradley wasn’t wrong that Terry hadn’t always been this bad, but it was moot, because Terry was definitely terrible now. Leo had already been semi-dreading this trip, and now he was convinced it would be interminable.
“Walt sent me screencaps of some scary shit that Terry’s posted online,” he told Bradley. “Terry spends all day in some pretty dark corners of the internet.”
“I know. But when it’s all of us, he tones it down.”
Leo let out a one-syllable laugh. “Does he?”
Their agent handed over the tickets, and the two men stepped away from the counter.
Bradley glanced to the side. “I think he’ll be pretty chill.”
“Because that’s Terry?” Leo asked, pointing to where Terry appeared to be “educating” the airline agent on the correct way to tag his luggage. “Pretty chill?”
“Are you going to tell him no?”
“Bradley, he’s checking in for the flight. Of course I’m not telling him no now.”
Under his breath, Bradley mumbled, “I don’t know why you’re judging me. You won’t even tell Cora no.”
“I heard that.”
“That’s why I said it out loud.”
They turned to make their way to the security screening, but when Bradley lingered to wait for Terry, Leo kept moving, making it through in only a few minutes. In the end, he was glad he went ahead, too, because Walt was already at the gate and would need to be prepared for the Terry news. Specifically, if the stress of Terry joining the trip was too great, Walter would want time to hit the restroom before they had to board.
Walter sat with his backpack in his lap, headphones in, bopping happily to music. A gentle soul who rarely prioritized things like haircuts or replacing holey T-shirts, he was always the first to call to check in on a friend having a hard time. Put simply, he was the anti-Terry.
Leo hovered at the periphery, hating that he was about to ruin Walt’s good mood. But when Walt looked up and over Leo’s shoulder, his expression crashing, Leo realized he was too late.
Walter tugged out an earbud, staring wide-eyed at Terry’s approach. “Wait, why’s Terry here?”
Leo supposed there was one reason to be grateful for Bradley’s nonconfrontational nature: with Terry along for the ride, at least there was something Leo was less excited about than riding a horse for the first time in a decade.
Chapter Three
JOLTED ABRUPTLY AWAKE, Leo angled forward in the unforgiving bus seat, reaching back to cup his neck.
“What happened?” Bradley asked, slowly straightening from his slumber across the aisle.
“We stopped.”
Bradley groaned. “Where?”
“No idea.” All Leo knew was that the bus, which reeked of soil and ethanol, had just come to a hard, abrupt stop seemingly in the middle of nowhere.
“What the hell, dude?” Bradley called to the bus driver, crossing his arms over the seat in front of him. “How about a little warning the next time?”
The driver’s raspy response barely reached them: “This is as far as I take you. Climb on out.”
Focusing his gaze through the window, Leo could distinguish nothing but vague shapes in the blue-black darkness. He would have sworn the sun was up only a few minutes ago, but he’d drifted off somewhere outside of Green River, Utah—worn thin from an unending travel day, including three hours delayed on the JFK tarmac, a bumpy and crowded flight, and this bus ride to who knew where.
Leo felt like he’d slept crammed in a box, but despite the interminable travel for whatever Wild West adventures might lie ahead, Bradley looked entirely untouched. For a man wearing leather driving shoes and a cashmere sweater, he was surprisingly game for the great outdoors. Beside Bradley, leaning awkwardly against the window and wearing an ancient green T-shirt that read MIDDLE EARTH’S ANNUAL MORDOR FUN RUN, Walt remained blissfully comatose, snoring softly.