Page 8 of Something Like Winter

“Darryl Briscott. Hey, we’re having a party to help wipe today from our minds. You want to come?”

Tim nodded. “When and where?”

Darryl’s smile was smug. “My place, right now.”

Before they went anywhere, Darryl walked Tim over to the group for a round of introductions. His woodland creature was Krista Norman, the tower of muscles Bryce Hunter. Definitely not brother and sister then. The other names and faces Tim would have to catch on the sly because he had already forgotten most of them.

He followed Darryl’s Porsche to a neighborhood that made his own look destitute. A lot of his friends in Kansas were rich, so his mind wasn’t blown, but for the first time in his life he wondered if he was going to make the cut. This invitation was obviously the beginning of an interview. Tim had the looks and he had the car, but there were still plenty of ways to fall out of grace, as he had learned back home.

Three other cars were in their convoy, and once parked, Darryl’s driveway looked like a sports car showroom. The inside of the house was spacious. Rich homes either had a ton of rooms or scaled-up versions of the normal amount. Darryl’s home was of the latter variety. Every room was like a cathedral, the ceilings so high they could have easily supported an additional floor halfway up.

“This way, my man,” Darryl said.

He led Tim through the house to a room that nearly made his jaw drop. He supposed it wasn’t so different from his father’s den, but taken to a whole new level. Instead of a big-screen television, the room had a movie screen and a projector built into opposite walls. Beneath the projector was a long L-shaped couch that could seat at least ten.

Instead of a mere wet bar, the far wall looked like it had been stolen from a British pub and teleported to Texas. Set against a giant mirror were shelves and shelves of liquor bottles, all lit tastefully from below.

In front of this was an ebony bar with brass accents and half a dozen empty stools. Tim happily plopped down on one. Darryl played bartender, switching on some music as everyone got settled. Then he turned to Tim and asked a question that sent his mouth watering.

“What’ll it be?”

“A beer.”

“A beer man, very good.” Except Darryl didn’t open a fridge and pull out a bottle. Instead he grabbed a mug, held it tilted under a nozzle, and pulled a handle. Tim died and went to heaven. They actually had beer on tap! In their home! He needed to have a serious talk with his dad. Of course his father wouldn’t be cool about it, even as a joke.

Darryl set the glass on the bar, but it was only two-thirds full. “Beer isn’t very strong, especially for the first day of school. Ever had a depthcharge?”

Tim shook his head. Darryl grinned and grabbed a bottle of whiskey. He filled a shot glass full before dropping it straight into the beer mug. The beer fizzed and foamed, but didn’t overflow. Pushing the mug toward him, Darryl started taking other orders. He certainly knew his stuff. He whipped up everything from cocktails to daiquiris, always knowing a way of making the requested drink stronger. No wonder he was popular!

“What do you think?” he asked, nodding toward Tim’s beer.

The foam had died down enough for Tim to take a sip. It tasted like someone had pissed in his beer, but he nodded appreciatively and lied. “Fucking delicious!”

Darryl was having the same and clinked mugs with Tim before nodding to the room. “Looks like you have a fan.”

Tim turned around. A dozen other people were there, but he only remembered the names of two. Doe-eyed Krista Norman was staring at him, but laughed and looked at her friend like she hadn’t been. And that friend of hers was something else! Krista was pretty, but the brunette next to her was beautiful. Dangerous too, judging from the power Tim felt behind her gaze. Unlike Krista, the brunette offered no bashful flirtation. Instead she sized him up in seconds and looked away again. Tim, feeling a little uncomfortable, did the same. He spun back around in the stool, catching a hulking giant glaring at him as he did so.

“A fan, huh?” Tim said. “You mean Bryce?”

Darryl guffawed. “Don’t worry about him. Not only is he big as an ox, but he plays like one too.”

“Football?”

“That, and women.” Darryl gestured to the room with his mug. “He thinks all these cows belong to him.”

Charming.

“The problem is,” Darryl continued, “everyone here has dated everyone else. Some of us have a harder time letting go, is all.”

“So you talking to me is making Bryce jealous?”

Darryl laughed again. “He’s nothing to worry about. He’s with Stacy Shelly now, and believe me, she’s the kind of girl who keeps you in line.”

“The brunette?” Tim asked as if disinterested.

“Yeah. That’s Krista’s best friend. Speaking of which—” He nodded over Tim’s shoulder. “What do you think?”

“Krista? I think she’s hot.”