The Guy on the Right (The Underdogs 1)

Sighing, I glance down at the coaster under my beer and see it’s an advertisement for Laney’s favorite. It doesn’t matter where I look, she’s there.

Just as that thought crosses my mind, the music changes, and Tim McGraw’s voice fills the bar.

“Are you fucking serious!?”

“What’s that?” The bartender asks.

“Mind if I unplug the jukebox?” I ask before tossing back the shots.

“Yes, I fucking mind, and you need to slow it down there.”

“I’m good,” I stand on shaky legs and make my way toward the source of the noise. The words of the song are like gravel scraping across my gaping chest. I pull another bill from my pocket and put it into the machine as the chorus hammers into me. “Fuck you, Tim McGraw,” I flip through the music as Laney’s first love tells me the story about a girl he lost because he was stupid enough to let her go and how it haunts him.

I white-knuckle grip the side of the jukebox shaking myself back and forth. “This. Is. Not. Happening.”

Drunk and stupid, I close one eye and focus on the title “Everywhere”.

“Well, isn’t that ridiculously appropriate,” I spit at the machine as I enter the song’s number eight times using all my credits before I slink down onto the dirty floor next to it. Closing my eyes, I thump the back of my head against the wall memorizing every note, every single syllable of every lyric, knowing I may never play it for her.

I make it to the sixth replay before I’m slung over a shoulder and hauled out of the bar.

The next morning, I wake up dressed in bed with a post-it stuck to my forehead and Laney’s open shampoo bottle running down my chest. The scent of orange blossoms causes my chest to re-crack just as a searing pain makes its presence known behind my eyes. Cracking one open, I spot an icy Gatorade on my nightstand. I down the liquid and squint at the words until they come into focus.

Theo

“Yo, Theo,” Dante calls from the porch.

“Sup, little man?” I say, approaching him. “What are you in for today?”

“I got in trouble at school.”

“You need to take it easy on your mom.”

“I know,” he says, looking surprisingly guilty. “I made her cry.”

“Not good, buddy.”

“She didn’t even tell me to come out here. I came out by myself. I told her I wouldn’t make her cry no more, but she said she’s tired of the men in her life letting her down.”

“Oh,” I say, glancing toward the door. “Look, she’s going to need you to be really nice to her for a little while, okay? Think you can handle that?”

“Yeah.”

“Good.”

Dante grins as a familiar truck comes into view from down the street. “Mommmm, Troy is here!”

I watch his truck pull up to the curb before Troy opens his door and looks at me pensively. With a sigh, he makes his way to the bed of the truck to grab a lawn mower. Once he has it down, he walks over to the porch.

“Hey, little dude, where’s your mom?”

Dante shakes his head. “She’s inside, but she’s crying.”

Troy looks over at me, guilt covering his features.

“Tell me you didn’t,” I say as he sinks where he stands.

“Jesus Christ, Jenner,” I say, tossing my hands up.