Page 81 of Proof Of Life
“Sure looks a lot like spying,” I add.
“What the hell are you two doing here?” he asks instead of answering.
“Two-for-one beer.”
“That’s why I’m here,” he lies.
We take seats on either side of him, flanking Stiles, and flag the bartender. Country music plays in the background, but nobody’s on the dance floor.
“So, how’s he making out over there?” I ask, glancing over my shoulder.
McCormick sits at a table with a woman with long brown hair. She’s cute, and I know better than to judge a book by its cover, but it doesn’t look like she has a damn thing in common with him. From her floral sundress and strappy sandals, to the cute headband in her hair. Carly looks like a nice girl, a sweet girl. Way too naïve for McCormick.
“She hasn’t laughed at one of his jokes yet,” Stiles defends with a frown. “He’s actually a pretty funny guy, when he isn’t being an ass and he isn’t making fun of me.”
I'm chuckling as I answer, “Is that right? I never noticed. McCormick is a funny guy? News to me. What about you, Brandt?”
“I’m not sure about funny, but I always thought he was real deep. Soulful,” he teases.
Stiles has the grace to laugh at himself. “Okay, I’ll admit, I’m not spying, it’s just…buddy support.”
“And does your buddy know you’re here supporting him?” Brandt asks. We both know the answer is no.
“I don’t want to distract him and take his focus from his date. Better he not know I’m here.”
“What are you gonna do,” I ask, “beat her up in the parking lot if she ditches him?”
“She better not!” He catches himself and blushes beet red. It’s the first time I’ve ever seen Stiles blush. It’s almost cute how loyal he is.
The bartender drops our mugs in front of us, and I raise it up. “A toast, to McCormick.”
“To McCormick,” they parrot, raising their glasses.
Brandt slips me a five-dollar bill and I assume it’s because McCormick is wearing a nice jacket, and by nice, I mean not leather. But twenty minutes later, he stands to go to the bathroom, and I notice he’s wearing an ALR shirt beneath the jacket that says, ‘Save a Cycle, Ride a Vet.’
Classy guy that McCormick.
I slide the five bucks across the bartop with a laugh. Of course, we then have to explain to Stiles why we’re laughing and exchanging money.
He snorts and then chokes on his mouthful of beer. “I could have won that bet, hands-down.”
After an hour, I’m honestly floored she’s still sitting opposite him. I struggle to get through an hour with him in group sometimes.
Brandt finishes off his second beer and huffs, “I was prepared to break out, ‘You’ve lost that loving feeling’. What good is a wingman if your buddy isn’t crashing and burning?”
Christ. Thank God we’re spared from that shitshow.
“I already checked. They’ve got it on the jukebox,” Brandt adds.
I almost feel bad for him that he’s never been able to reenact his favorite scene from his favorite movie. It’s probably on his bucket list.
“Hey, you remember that one time–”
“Yeah, the time I pulled the plug on the jukebox right after you cued up that song, all hell-bent on singing to Thomason’s date.”
“I should be pissed about that,” he frowns. “You owe me.”
“I owe you for a lot of things. Everything. But I don’t owe you for that. And I will never make that up to you.”