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Story: A Forbidden Alchemy

The table quieted, surprised. I gathered it was unlike Theo to respond at all.

“Tell me, do you take the whore first, or the bluff? Can’t imagine you can even keep yourself upright if you take the bluff first, let alone anything else.”

Scottie, Briggs, and Donny hooted, but Gunner’s cheeks had lost their pallor. His eyes flitted to Patrick and away.

“I heard your wife just walked out on you,” Theodore continued. I wondered if the liquor had made him stupid. “My condolences. Was it the whores? Or did the bluff make you limp?”

Theodore had turned to face Gunner head on, as though welcoming that first punch. An invitation to swing back. He waited; the table held its collective breath. Patrick rose from his seat.

But Gunner only smiled. It was small at first, but then widened. Soon he was laughing heartily, his head thrown back. The others joined tenuously, and Gunner caught Theodore in a headlock, mussing his neatly combed hair. “We’re all whores, Teddy,” he barked, his good humor sending another wave of hysteria ricocheting down the table. “That should be your first lesson. Take my advice, don’t ever let marriage enter your mind.”

Gunner shunted Theo into a seat and passed him another drink, though his fingers wedged deeply into Theo’s shoulder, and he sent a deliberate look down to Patrick, gauging his response.

I thought I saw Patrick shake his head.

It was a while longer before I realized I’d been holding my breath.

For a time, the night drew on with a forced sort of peace. The men continued their banter and drank a shocking amount of ale, but none so much as Theo, who refilled his pint twice as often. He offered nothing in the conversation but stared openly at me or Polly or Patrick. And though the group must have appeared chummy to anyone on the outside, it seemed to me a silent war was being waged.

Gunner made increasingly hostile jokes and slapped Theo on the back with more vigor than was necessary. Patrick waited with interminablepatience, but not without tension, and Polly and I were silent, like children about to be punished. We traded glances. We were sitting on a ticking time bomb.

Pints kept arriving at the table. Every now and then, I drank one to dull the hostility in the air. I had now shifted myself out of Patrick’s reach completely. It seemed Theodore marked my every move.

Donny was the only salve. He nattered incessantly with one anecdote or another, the stories growing more grandiose with the liquor. “… and then, to that man I said, ‘I’ll challenge you to a game of darts. If you win, I’ll pay your tab. But ifIwin, I get to take your mother upstairs with me.’ Now, I ain’t ever seen his mother of course—”

“Lucky for him, you ain’t ever seen a fuckin’ bullseye, either,” Otto yawned.

“I can throw darts as good as any,” Donny slurred. “Just point me at the board.”

Otto shook his head. “No way. I ain’t makin’ any bets with you tonight.”

“Ah, come on. What about Gunner then?”

Gunner chuckled darkly. “Not a chance.”

Donny pouted. “Teddy will throw darts with me, won’t you, Teddy?”

Theodore’s eyes were riddled red, his head wobbled on his neck as he turned to the call of his name. “What are we playing for?”

“How about this,” Donny said, growing more animated. “If I win, you go wipe that fuckin’ scowl off your face, save the rest of us from it. I can’t even see, and I know it’s there.”

Otto and Gunner chortled into their drinks.

“All right,” Theo said. “And if I win, I’ll take your mother up to my room with me. How about it, Donny?”

A taut silence abruptly descended, and I thought the pint in Gunner’s hand might splinter. His knuckles had turned white along the handle. The other men traded dark glances, their eyes swiveling back and forth between the Colson brothers. Patrick’s stare, however, had solidified.

Donny, by contrast, was overjoyed. He bounced with excitement. “Ah, he’s got spirit, Pat! See, I told you he didn’t have a stick up his arse.”

Theo’s jaw ticked.

“Come on, then,” Donny cajoled, standing in place. “Someone turn me round the right way.”

Moments later, Donny was facing a corkboard tacked to the barn wall, his fist full of darts. The patrons had made a path, and those closest seemed strangely unconcerned, despite the drunken blind man holding sharp missiles he intended to throw.

The first three, shockingly, landed on the board, albeit with mediocre scores. “Let’s have it then, Teddy,” Donny said, and Theodore stepped forward.

His gait was very obviously unsteady. I’d lost count of the drinks he’d consumed. He didn’t look at Donny as he readied himself before the dartboard. He stared at me, who stood against a beam to better see, and at Patrick, who hadn’t bothered to stand at all. “I look forward to knowing Mrs. Colson a lot better,” he said, and the whole barn held its collective breath, awaiting a rebuttal.

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