Page 4 of Rust

“Bud, trust me, I don’t like it either. But ‘Little Isabelle’ is not so little anymore. I can’t exactly stop her, ya know?”

“Wait, how old is she?” I asked.

“Nineteen. Today’s her birthday, actually.”

At first, I found it impossible to believe—there was no way my best friend’s little daughter was the same age as Cale friggin’ Cotton. But then I thought about it, and yeah, it’d been, what, five or six years since the last time I saw her? And she was just entering her awkward teen phase then, so… hell, maybe it was true.

“Fuck. Okay.NowI feel old,” I said.

“Tell me about it. They grow up fast, Rusty. Real fast. She’s a college girl now. She goes to UNLV.”

“A college girl?” I gulped. “Oh, no.”

He made a noise that was half-laugh, half-groan. “Yeah… my feelings exactly. I don’t even like thinking about it.”

“Well, sure, the boyfriend can come. Just text me his name and I’ll get him on the club box list.” A second later, I added sneakily, “Or maybe you’d rather me leave the little fucker’s name off the list instead?”

Johnny savored the plot and cackled with devious laughter. “Oh, I’dloveto leave the little punk at the gate. But nah. I can’t do that. Izzy would kill me.”

“You’re a good man. I guess I’ll see you later then, yeah?”

“We’ll see you soon, buddy. And hey, don’t beat yourself up too bad, alright?” he consoled me, before adding a second later, “Because I want in on the action, too.”

I laughed. “See you later, ya fucker.”

I hung up. I stared into my pint of beer, my smile slowly vanishing as the thoughts turned around in my head.

I was a healthy scratch… and Isabelle was a college girl.

Damn.

Time flies.

Maybe this really is it?