Page 44 of Big Britches

“And did I mention that Elijah Fowler is Black?”

“My head is spinning.”

“Sorry,” Titus said, pouring them both some more from the pitcher. “Now you know why I stay home. That kind of stuff gets my goat.”

Pedro stared, confused by the expression.

“It aggravates me,” Titus clarified.

“You should be mad,” Pedro said. “It’s unjust.”

“Damn right it is. But it’s in Morehead, out of my dad’s jurisdiction. Honestly, I don’t know that he would do anything about it even if he could. He is a politician—small town, but just the same.”

“So, the towns hate each other.” Pedro sipped from his drink.

“In a manner of speaking. I’m sure there are other people like us that know better. But there’s a specific family in Morehead that especially doesn’t like me or mine—The Barksdales—Milton and Mason. They’re the Morehead version of my dad and me here. Mayor and son.”

“Does everyone’s name have to begin with the same initial?”

Titus grinned. “Yeah. It’s kind of a thing. Dad owns businesses and is mayor here. Milton is the same, only in Morehead. Mason, his son, was on the football team with me. I was a bigger and better player, though, so I got more attention. I also knocked up and married the girl he loved. It’s a lot of drama. Seemed important then, but now it’s just stupid.”

“Did you?—”

“No.”

“You didn’t let me finish, T.”

“You were going to ask me if I did it on purpose because we were rivals.”

Pedro’s eyes dropped.

“Told you I had good instincts, and you’re not the first to ask. But no. Violet and I were tight. She was head cheerleader, so I always saw her at practice. We also had classes together, and she helped me keep my grades up so I could stay on the team. I may be gay, but we still got close. And I loved her, P. I did. I just wasn’t in love with her. I know that now. We were teenagers, hormones in overdrive. Does anyone that age ever really know?”

“No. Probably not.”

“Yet it’s been happening since the dawn of time. If humans came with an instruction manual, it should read: Enjoy life, have sex, use condoms, and never marry or have kids before you’re thirty. Twenty-five, at least.”

“And you’re twenty-three,” Pedro said.

“Yep.”

“That’s a wise perspective from someone so young.”

“I’m a widower with a four-year-old. Experience has aged me.”

“Well, you don’t look a day over twenty.”

“Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” Pedro said. He was slurring slightly. “I say we leave the past behind?—”

“Ha ha. Very clever.”

“—for now. This tequila is making me a little woozy, perhaps lowering my?—”

“Inhibitions?”

“Yes.”