“The fuck you doing back here?” he asked, as he came in for a hug.
A waitress immediately put a bottle of beer in my hand.
“Come on. I’ve got a rousing game of darts going over here,” he said.
“We used to play darts all the time,” I said, as I followed him.
“I know. I play every night I come in,” he said. “Want a shot?”
I took the dart from him and chugged back my beer, then set it on the empty bar and took my position. I pulsed my hand once. Twice. Three times. Then I launched the dart into the air and hit three squares away from the middle.
“Oh shit. Looks like someone’s out of practice,” Andy said.
“Out of practice? That’s pretty good,” I said.
“Watch this.”
The waitress slid me another beer as Andy chucked a dart at the wall. And fuck me if it didn’t go right into the damn bullseye. How often was Andy at this place to be that good? Every damn night?
It honestly wouldn’t have shocked me if that was the truth.
“Remember when we broke into the school and wrapped Mr. Bertie’s entire classroom in tin foil for April Fool’s Day?” Andy asked.
“Holy shit, that man was upset,” I said. “But my favorite was when we put one of Old Man Taffer’s cows in the principal’s office.”
“That took so much damn coordination. It’s a shame Yahoo tried to spoil it.”
“Who?” I asked.
“That red-headed freckle-faced kid? Taffer’s nephew or whatever?”
“Oh fuck. I forgot about that. It was still a good one, though. How about the cow shitting right in the principal’s chair. We couldn’t have planned that even if we’d tried.”
“Especially since the man sat in it,” Andy said, with a grin.
“Oh shit. Do you remember when we got the cheerleaders together and played truth or dare under the bleachers after that football game?”
“How the hell could I forget it?” he asked. “I got my first blowjob that night!”
“That was your first?” I asked.
“What? You had one before that?”
“Hell yeah, I did. Cindy Jeppsson. Tenth grade.”
“Get the fuck out of here. She was the hottest senior in school!”
“And she loved my dick,” I said.
“Oh, you know another good one? That swirly we gave that guy one time,” Andy said.
My beer bottle stopped at my lips as my eyes darted over to him.
“And the dumpster fire kid. What was his name? He was wearing that bright red and yellow shirt when we threw him in.”
I bit down onto the inside of my cheek as Andy continued.
“Oh, ha-ha, you know what you were famous for though? Your spit balls. Damn. All the ones you shot up to the ceiling that came down in teacher’s hair and shit? You never did teach me how to aim like you could.”