Page 142 of The Bodyguard

I did a three-point turn and found a seat at the farthest end of the table, next to Doghouse, who could at least partially block my view.

I squeezed my eyes closed. Of course this was how things were. It had been an act of self-jinxing to imagine anything different.

I took some breaths, but my lungs felt trembly.

So I did what I always did: I made a plan to escape. I would tolerate this moment in my life as long as I could, and then I’d graciously stand up with a smile like I had another event to go to, and then I’d elegantly sneak off into the shadows and disappear.

Easy.

How long could I tolerate this moment?

I decided on fifteen minutes—which was far too many—and then I kept my eyes on my plate so I wouldn’t accidentally look at Jack and Kennedy.

Holy cow. What a preposterous couple name.

But Doghouse was looking at them enough for the both of us. “Can you believe she’s here?” he kept saying, elbowing me. “That’s Kennedy Monroe. She’s Marilyn Monroe’s granddaughter.”

“That was debunked,” I said.

“She’s better looking in real life,” Doghouse said then. “That wasn’t debunked.”

“Anyway,” I prodded. “Don’t you like Kelly?”

“What?” Doghouse said, his voice going up like on octave.

But I was done with pretense. “It’s so obvious, dude. Just kiss her already. Be a man and make it happen.”

Doghouse looked down at his plate and thought about that for a second.

And then he did.

Not kidding. He stood, walked over to where Kelly was sitting, tapped her on the shoulder, and said, “Hey, can I kiss you?”

Kelly blinked up at him for a second, and then she just said, “Yes.”

It was that easy.

I watched him take her hand and lead her off toward the barn.

“Holy shit,” I said out loud. Was that all it took?

He left me with no alternative but to take a big swig from my jar of moonshine.

The schnapps was sweet at first. But then the moonshine hit.

I guess there’s a reason moonshine’s mostly illegal. It was like drinking straight antifreeze. My throat burned like I’d swallowed acid, and, for a second, I wondered if I might die. To try to get some of the fumes out, I leaned over and hissed down at the ground like a cat.

Just then, Jack’s sneakers—I’d know them anywhere—showed up in my field of vision. “Burns, doesn’t it?”

I looked up. He was nodding, like Been there.

In response, I made a hacking noise.

He sat down in Doghouse’s empty chair. “It’ll take the paint off your car, for sure.”

I sat up and stared at him, like You drink this?

“It’s also good for cleaning jewelry. My mom soaks her wedding ring in it.”