I reached for the phone. “What a surprise, Riles, you big dork.”

He reached out and nabbed the back of my head. Pulling it to him, he kissed my forehead. I went solid, phone in my hand and stared at him totally stunned. He’d never done that before. Sure, it was kind of brotherly and cute but it was a kiss.

To cover my freak out, I said, “Quit kissing me, Riley, you’ll give me cooties.”

“Fuck off,” he returned, still grinning at me.

I put the phone to my ear and said, “Yo.”

Silence.

“Hello?” I called into the silence.

“Who’s Riley?”

Fuckity, f**k, f**k, f**k.

It was Luke.

“Luke?”

“Who the f**k is Riley?”

Wow. He sounded pissed off. As in, extremely pissed off.

“Um… a friend?” it came out as a question, like I needed Luke to answer it for me.

“You didn’t tell me about any friends this morning.”

“You didn’t ask.”

“Okay, then I’m askin’ now.”

“About what?”

“How many friends do you have?”

“A lot of them.”

“I’m talkin’ about the ones who kiss you.”

Someone’s got the wrong end of the stick. Hee hee, Bad Ava sing-songed in my ear.

Oh dear, Good Ava said in the other one.

“I can’t talk now, I’m kinda busy.” I wasn’t playing games. I was acutely aware of Riley watching me and the fact he had just kissed my forehead and this was a weird situation I’d never found myself in. I honestly didn’t know what to do.

I felt unhappy vibes stinging my ear through the phone.

“Why are you calling?” I asked when Luke made no response.

“You forgot the remote and keys.”

“Erm…”

“You gonna be home for awhile?”

“I have company.”

“You gonna be home for awhile?” he repeated.

“Um, no, we have an errand to run after we have lunch.”

“We do?” Riley asked and I waved at him to shut up.

“You gonna be home after your errand?” Luke asked in my ear.

Shit.

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there at four.”

“Luke.”

He didn’t hear me say his name, he had already disconnected.

“My life is f**ked,” I told Riley, punching the off button on the phone with my thumb.

“Who was that?” he asked, his face morphing to concern.

“An old friend,” I blew it off, not wanting to delve deeper and certainly not willing to share. Thankfully, Riley let it go.

“What errand we running?” he asked.

I told him about Sissy’s place.

“Holy shit. Sure I’ll go with you,” he told me.

“Thanks, Riles.”

We ate lunch, we chatted, he teased me (as usual). I made him laugh (as usual). Nothing weird, nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to make this seem in any way other than our normal friendship. Nothing.

After we were done, he drove me to Sissy’s and we inspected the damage using the key I still had after pocketing it last night.

“Holy shit,” Riley repeated his words of earlier, looking around while standing in the living room.

Holy shit was right. The place was a mess, the front window and door were boarded, debris everywhere. I started to get the shakes, for more reasons than just seeing the devastation an AK-47 could do. Flashback City.

Riley put an arm around me and guided me out. “Let’s get you out of here.”

“Sissy’s going to freak,” I told him.

“Sissy’s going to freak,” he replied.

“I think this is a processed cookie-type food moment.”

“Ava, no moment is a processed cookie-type food moment. This is, however, a shot of tequila-type moment.”

He was not wrong.

We went to Reiver’s, a bar on South Gaylord that was close to Sissy’s place. It had been there forever and was decorated entirely in wood. They had kickass black bean dip there but I did not suggest this to Riley who would likely find that suggestion a disappointing testament to lack of motivation for healthy living mojo.

I had a shot of tequila, chased by a diet pop. Riley had a beer. Riley engaged me in a conversation that would take my thoughts off Sissy’s living room and what he didn’t know was my thoughts of my own mortality and plans to draw up a will, ASAP.

Eventually, I looked at my watch and gave a little scream.

“What?” Riley asked.

“It’s ten to four. Luke’s gonna be at my house at four. We gotta move,” I’d jumped off my barstool and was hopping around on my flip-flops freaked the hell out.

“Who’s Luke?” Riley was watching me closely.

“An old friend.”

His eyes narrowed. “You got a lot of them.”

“Let’s go!” I nearly shouted.

“All right, all right. Keep your pants on.’

We paid, we left, we got home too late.

I knew because the clock on the dash of Riley’s Pathfinder said it was quarter after four. I also knew because, as we rolled up to my house, Luke’s Porsche was parked there, Luke leaning against it arms crossed on his chest. He didn’t look happy and this unhappiness increased exponentially when his head turned and he saw Riley and me pulling up.

“Crap,” I whispered.

“That Luke?” Riley asked, checking him out.

“Yeah.”

“You owe him money?” Riley asked, maybe trying to be funny but his question was too close to the bone.

“Thanks for lunch, for going with me, for the tequila, everything,” I said, turning to him as I saw Luke push away from the Porsche.

“I’ll just make sure everything’s okay. He doesn’t look –”

“No!” I cried, again in a near shout.

Riley’s eyes cut to me. “I’ll just make sure everything’s okay,” Riley repeated in a tone I’d never heard him use before. He was usually laid-back. He looked not at all laid-back anymore.

Crapity, crap, crap, crap.

Riley got out. I got out. Luke met us on the sidewalk by Riley’s car, right in front of my house. Luke and Riley sized each other up. Riley was a personal trainer and Luke still looked like he could wipe the floor with him.