Page 2 of All That Glitters

Chapter two

Graduation Riots and "The Beach"

One year earlier…

It was a picture postcard day in San Diego that afternoon, with the kind of sparkling blue sky and sunshine people moved there for.

A crowd of families and friends packed San Diego University’s football stadium, all eyes watching the long wooden stage and line of graduates in black caps and gowns on the field.

The university’s dean stood behind a podium in the center of the stage, working his way through the list of graduates. “Veronica Hamlin,” he announced.

Applause filled the stadium as a poised young woman crossed the stage. She shook the dean’s hand as he gave her the diploma, then jumped up and down in sheer, spontaneous joy as she exited the stage.

The dean turned back to the microphone. “Tony Harding.”

Fresh applause rolled through the crowd as Tony crossed the stage.

High in the bleachers, a petite brunette leaped to her feet, cupping her hands around her mouth.

“Yay, Tony!” she shouted. She tried to whistle, but it came out as mostly spit.

At twenty-two, Debbie Campbell was the perfect spirited blend of impossible cuteness and the enthusiasm of a golden retriever puppy.

What she lacked in coordination, she made up for in loyalty and heart.

As she jumped up and down, her sneaker slipped, sending her lurching forward into the back of an obese man seated in the row ahead. The impact caused him to jerk in surprise, his super-sized soda launching from his hand and splashing across the back of another spectator’s neck.

The victim, a muscular man with a flat-top haircut and newly soda-drenched shirt, whipped around, his face contorted with rage.

“Hey, fatso!” he snarled, shoving the other man with enough force to make him stumble backward.

The larger man shoved back harder, sending Flat-Top careening into a cluster of graduates’ families. They toppled like bowling pins, drinks flying, bodies colliding with other spectators in an ever-widening circle of chaos.

Like human dominoes, the chain reaction spread through the stands, a cascade of flailing limbs, airborne beverages, and increasingly creative profanity. Within seconds, what had begun as Debbie’s simple misstep transformed into a full-blown riot.

Down on the field, Tony had just accepted his diploma when the commotion erupted. He turned toward the source of the noise, squinting up at the bleachers where the brawl was spreading like wildfire. His eyes found Debbie in the epicenter, her hands covering her face.

“Of course,” he muttered, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Higher in the stands, Debbie slowly peeked through her fingers, looking left, then right at the bedlam she’d accidentally unleashed.

“Oops,” she said with a cringe. That one word, which would probably be the epitaph on her tombstone one day, was the story of her life.

Fifteen minutes later…

What had been a graduation ceremony now looked like a tornado had passed through it.

Wisps of tear gas still lingered over the field where campus security and local police in riot gear were leading away the last of the combatants.

Folding chairs lay overturned, programs and water bottles littered the ground, and the sprinklers had come on, drenching everything.

From behind the podium, the still-cowering dean waved his handkerchief as a makeshift white flag of surrender. Most of the graduates had either fled, or stuck around to watch the chaos with amusement. Tony and his two best friends were in the latter group.

Matt Larson and Jeff Slewinski had been Tony’s roommates and partners-in-crime since freshman year, bonding over a shared appreciation for beer, reruns of forgotten TV shows, bad decisions, and spectacularly failed romantic endeavors.

Jeff, a soon-to-be law student and self-proclaimed ladies’ man, scrolled through photos on his cell phone with an ever-broadening grin.

“Dude. And check this one out,” he said, showing his phone to the others. “It’s when the cops shot that fat guy with the beanbag gun. I’m totally posting this.”

Matt, the pragmatic accounting major of the group, adjusted his glasses and surveyed the bedlam with a mixture of awe and curiosity. “Did you guys see how it started?”

“TONY!”

The boys turned at the sound of the voice. Debbie was making her way toward them, dodging security personnel and overturned chairs with remarkable agility for someone who just triggered a riot.

Tony sighed, a resigned smile crossing his face. “You’re about to meet how it started.”

Debbie reached them, slightly out of breath, and grabbed Tony in a fierce hug that nearly knocked him off balance. It was a hug that packed fifteen years of friendship.

“Look at you,” she beamed, pulling back to admire him in his graduation attire. “The college graduate. I can’t believe it.”

Tony shot her a curious look. “Can’t believe what?”

“That you graduated,” she replied, her eyes sparkling with affectionate teasing.

“I got that part.”

“As in, you actually finished something,” she explained, nudging him playfully with her elbow.

Jeff snorted. “Shocker, isn’t it?”

Debbie nodded. “Uh huh.”

“I finish things,” Tony said.

“Name one,” Matt said. “And beers don’t count.”

“And while he’s trying to think of something that doesn’t exist,” Jeff jumped in, extending his hand to Debbie, “hi, I’m Jeff. And that’s soon to have an esquire after it.”

“Hi,” Debbie replied, shaking his hand with a warmth that came naturally to her. “Debbie. That has perpetual student after it.”

“Oh, you’re his friend from Phoenix who’s always breaking things,” Jeff said.

Debbie’s smile faltered slightly. “I am?”

“According to Tony,” Matt said, stepping forward to introduce himself. “Hi, I’m Matt.”

“Hi,” Debbie replied, then turned to Tony. “I don’t always break things.”

Tony looked slightly guilty. “I think I said sometimes.”

“Nope. It was always,” Matt corrected. “And speaking of always, was Tony always coming up with get-rich-quick schemes when you guys were growing up?”

“And then flaking out on them a week later?” Jeff added.

“Oh, yeah,” Debbie said with a big nod. “Always.”

“It’s called ambition,” Tony said.

“It’s called having to haul ten huge rolls of vinyl to the dumpster,” Jeff said. “Remember that one? The vinyl camper shell company you started in our dorm room and gave up on a week later.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Okay. That’s once.”

“Or that cryptocurrency you invented called DormCoin that was supposed to revolutionize campus laundry payments,” Matt added. “Until you realized you’d have to actually learn coding.”

“Not my brightest moment,” Tony conceded. “Okay, that’s twice.”

“And that bikini calendar you were gonna make?” Jeff added. “That one didn’t even last a week.”

“That’s because the girl who was going to be Miss July got a restraining order against you,” Tony said. “I’m not taking the blame for your hormones.”

Debbie’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “Man, I missed this.”

“You can have him back if you want,” Matt said.

“Nope. No way. He’s your problem now.”

“I’m not anyone’s problem,” Tony insisted. “I’m completely problem-free.”

“Except for the aforementioned problems,” said Matt. “And dozens more I’m sure Debbie can share.”

“She can,” Debbie said with a wide grin.

“But she’s not going to,” Tony said.

“Not unless they bribe me,” Debbie said, shooting him a grin.

“So, what’s the deal with you guys?” Jeff said, his eyes going back and forth between Tony and Debbie. There was definitely something there in the subtext. “You ever date?”

The laughter and grins came to a sudden, screeching stop. Tony and Debbie exchanged awkward glances.

“Nope,” said Tony, a bit too quickly. “Just friends.”

“Which translated, means she blew you off,” Jeff said.

“No,” Tony said, irritation creeping into his voice. “It means we’re friends.”

“Because she would’ve blown you off,” Jeff persisted, the thought of a platonic relationship with a cute girl completely beyond his comprehension.

Tony glanced at his bare wrist, where a watch would have been if he wore one. “Oh, gee. Look at the time,” he said, then turned to Debbie. “We should get going.”

“Where are we going?” Jeff asked, oblivious to the not-so-subtle hint.

“We, nowhere,” Tony emphasized. “Debbie and I, the beach.”

Matt exchanged knowing looks with Jeff. “He’s pissed because she blew him off.”

“She didn’t blow me off,” Tony insisted.

“Then why are you pissed?” Jeff prodded.

“I’m not pissed.”

“You sound pissed,” Matt observed.

“Because talking to you guys is like talking to two monkeys.” He turned to Debbie. “You ready?”

“Yeah,” she said, a hint of amusement in her eyes. She’d known Tony long enough to tell when he needed rescuing. “Let’s do it.” She turned to Matt and Jeff. “It was nice to meet you guys.”

“You too,” Matt said.

“Let me know if Tony tries anything inappropriate at ‘the beach’,” Jeff said, making air-quotes with his fingers around the words as if it was code for something smutty. “My dad’s an attorney.”

Tony just shook his head in annoyance as he and Debbie walked away, leaving Matt and Jeff exchanging smirks behind them.

“Are you gonna try something inappropriate with me at ‘the beach’, Mr. Harding?” Debbie teased once they were out of earshot of the guys. She made the same air-quotes with her fingers.

This time Tony just laughed. “Now you see what I had to put up with through college.”

“Serves you right for telling them I always break things.”

“I didn’t say always,” Tony said, but the smile tugging at his mouth betrayed him. “Just whenever there’s breakable things within a ten-foot radius.”

She playfully slapped his arm. “It’s only on rare occasions. And I’m getting better about it.”

He smiled. “Like starting riots at graduation ceremonies?”

“That doesn’t count,” she said. “And I deny everything.”

He laughed, squeezing her to him in a side hug. “I missed you, Deb.”

“I missed you too,” she said, squeezing him back. “So, we’re doing the beach? Like old times?”