Introduction

Two young lovers decide to move in together and open a cafe only to be hindered by their own pasts, drugs, and bad guys from New Orleans. Set in Austin, Texas in the early nineties.

Bobby Patrick, abandoned by his mother as a child and by his alcoholic father during high school, wants a better life for himself and his true love, Katie. The couple decides to open a café and chase their dreams under the radiant Austin sunsets. There, the long, hot days of summer in inspire their passion--but complications arise when Katie's former love interest returns, bringing with him a whirlwind of trouble.

As Katie's dark past reveals itself, Bobby fears it could threaten all they have been striving for. Along with Katie's best friend, Sara, with whom Bobby has his own secret history, the couple becomes tangled up in a drug deal and falls under close watch by Austin police and New Orleans mobsters. 

Bobby must find a way to protect Katie, help Sara, and help himself to thousands of dollars from the ill-fated deal. If he can't, his future with Katie could be shattered forever. 


Part romance and part suspense story, Riverside is a tell-your-friends-about-it, good old-fashioned crime novel about a young couple struggling for the American dream, and the lengths to which they will go to protect it.

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Excerpt

BOOK I

KATHERINE & ROBERT – AUSTIN, 1993

Chapter One

Katherine Ann Smith

Katherine Ann Smith loved me. I never doubted it. And I loved her. She was it for me. The first time we were together, I was home. Katie was funny—a smartass. She also had an adventurous side. Well, she wasn’t scared of me anyway. Back then, that actually meant something.

Back then, I hardly ever wore a shirt and not at all in the summer.

It was summer. Full-on. Heat rose from the pavement. I loved Austin during this time of year. Austin was meant to be hot. Summer was when she was most in her own.

It would be light out past nine, but the night was coming and it felt good. I drove into the apartment complex and parked. Thelma’s seats were ablaze and I was happy to get out of the car. Two guys passed me walking toward the parking lot and I nodded. The lot was sloped downward and I looked up the hill toward the buildings and there was Katie.

She stood at the end of a path leading into the complex. Katie was cute—sandy blond hair, bright blue eyes, small-frame and a genuine smile. She wore a red T-shirt with a hole in one sleeve and a pair of blue-jean shorts that were frayed and rolled over at the waist because they were too big. A bikini string peeked out from the top of her shirt and wrapped around her neck and she was barefoot.

The two guys retrieved a blue and white cooler from their truck and carried it back toward the apartment. When they walked by Katie she said, “Y’all put that one on the balcony.” She smiled at me. “Hey you.”

“Hey you, yourself.”

“I s’pose Thelma is functionin’?”

“Tip-top. Want to go for a ride?”

“Nope. But I’d bet you want a beer.”

“And you’d win.”

Katie put her arm around me and squeezed. “I usually do.”

“Not always.” I kissed her on the side of her head.

She ran her hand over the back of mine. “You cut your hair too short.”

“I wasn’t the one that did the cuttin’.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I do.”

We walked up the path and then up the first stairway on our right and into her apartment. The apartment was a three-bedroom unit with light brown carpet and wood paneling painted white and a sliding glass door that opened to a large balcony. It looked like a thousand other apartments down Riverside in south Austin. The bedrooms were down a hall, two on the left and one on the right. Katie and Sara shared the first bedroom on the left and the bathroom straight across the hall.

Sara had been Katie’s best friend since childhood. Though the two had gone to different high schools in Houston—Katie at Lamar and Sara at Kinkaid—they had remained close. Sara was what boys called “fucking beautiful.” She had dark hair and brown eyes and was tall and wicked smart. She scored high enough on the SAT to go to school anywhere in the country. But Sara went where Katie went. So when Katie got into UT, Sara decided to tag along.

Lake and Danny, whom Katie and only Katie called Daniel, occupied the two other bedrooms. The four had all worked at the same diner for a short time and were fast friends. The boys found other jobs; Danny moved furniture and Lake tended bar at a coffee shop that served beer and where he could play guitar in the evenings.

At first, I worried a little about a guy with such a cool name who played guitar living with my girlfriend. I played about four chords. I’m told that was as much as The Beatles knew, but it didn’t have the same effect for me. Once, when Lake impressed everyone by playing “I Feel Fine” pitch perfect, I looked across the room. Katie looked dead-on right at me. After that, I wasn’t worried.

Katie walked into the kitchen where a keg had already been tapped. She picked up the hose and handed it to me along with a clear plastic cup and pumped three or four times while I worked the nozzle.

“Where’d y’all get all this?” I asked.

“Daniel got it. He moved that bar into a bigger place, and I s’pose they’re generous.” “Whether they know it or not.”

“Bobby, don’t be a smartass. It’s cold. It’s Shiner. I’m the one that’s handin’ it to ya.

At this moment there is nothin’ for you to be but grateful and happy.”

“Okay. I am. Where is your Daniel anyway?”

Katie leaned on one hip and pushed a strand of blond hair from her face and looked at me with a raised eyebrow. “He went to the store. You want to come with me?”

We carried our beers down the hall into her bedroom. Katie closed the door behind me and locked it. I finished off my beer and flopped down on the bed.

“Where’s Sara?” I asked.

“She’s with Daniel because he’s with Paul.”

“Paul’s back?”

“He came back night ‘fore last.”

“What?”

“We were at the park yesterday mornin’ and there was Paul. Like nothin’. Just there.

He just walked right up to all us and said, ‘Y’all goin’ swimmin’?’”

“Jesus. Was Sara there? I mean right there?”

“She was. I don’t know why she didn’t pee her pants. I would have. I wanted to in fact and it’s not even my deal. It’s hers. It’s always hers. But she just stood there with her mouth open. Why he does that to her is totally beyond me. But there it is.”

“Wait a minute, wait a minute. Y’all went swimmin’? As if everything was cool? Did anybody say—but first off, who else was there?”

“Lake.”

“Okay. Did Lake say anything to him?”

“Not at first. But once we went in and sat on the hill Lake asked him where he’d

been.”

“What’d he say?”

“Said he’d been in Albuquerque workin’.”

“Paul . . . had been in New Mexico . . . working?”

“Yes, but he’d grown tired of the town and the sandstorms and decided to move back. He had driven all night and was just rollin’ into town and I s’pose a swim sounded good.”

“Shit. Did anyone say, where the fuck have you been, Paul? Did Sara say, where the fuck have you been, Paul? Did anyone say, hey thanks for leavin’ in the middle of night like without a trace, oh and by the way Bobby wants two hundred and fifty bucks for those stitches?”

Katie ran her fingers through my hair, over the portion of my scalp that still had a tiny scar from that night. “Hey, calm down, calm down. Your stitches are the least of our worries with Paul. And you recovered.”

She straddled my lap and wrapped her arms around my neck. I could smell the lotion on her skin and the sun in her hair and the beer on her breath as she spoke.

“Hey, Bobby, promise me you won’t make any trouble tonight with Paul.”

I started to speak and she put two fingers over my mouth. She had taken off her shirt and undone the straps on her bikini. Her heart beat faster.

“Baby, I don’t want there to be any trouble. Sara really wants this. And Paul seems different. I don’t know how, but different. Listen, I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t want to analyze it. It is what it is. I just want you to promise me there won’t be any trouble.”

I considered everything. “There won’t be any trouble ‘cause of me, Katie.”

Katie pitched her bikini top on the end of the bed and looked at me with a soft smile. “I know, sweetie.” Then she took off her shorts and her bikini bottom and kissed me.

I pulled off my shorts and laid back. Katie took me in her hand, then her mouth. She moved her mouth up and down running her tongue over me. She climbed on top and I slid inside. Jesus, she felt good.

Katie and I fit well together. We had been comfortable with each other since the first time we made love. She was generous but had no problem asking me for what she wanted. When we made love she would often turn over on her stomach and arch her back, sticking her bottom in the air a little.

“Lick me from behind, baby, lick me back there,” she would say.

And I would. I would lick Katie from the small of her back down between her legs and up again. There wasn’t an inch of Katie I didn’t love.

I rolled her over and got on top. I moved faster and she smiled.

“That’s nice, baby,” she said. “That’s it.” She came first and quickly.

“Want me to slow, sweetie? Want me to stop for a bit?”

She laughed. “Uh-uh, Bobby Patrick, don’t you dare.”

Lying with Katie after sex was the second greatest feeling I had experienced in life. The first, of course, was having sex with Katie. We lay on top of the sheets, Katie on her stomach and me on my side. Her body was beautiful—her back was lean; her skin was golden from the sun. She had clear tan lines and a pale bottom, which for some reason made me immensely happy.

Katie was also smart. She had ideas. She could talk politics, business, people, life. I rubbed my hand over the small of her back as we lay on the bed.

“Do you see a point to all this?” she asked.

I nodded. “Right now I do.”

“But don’t you want more?”

“Hmm?”

She sat up. “I don’t mean us, sweetie. I just mean this. All this other. What are we doin’?”

I sat up and wrapped my arms around her and pulled her down flat on the bed.

“You gettin’ restless?”

She pulled me close and ran a hand through my hair. “Bobby, I s’pose—”

“You feel a road trip coming on?”

“No. And you did cut your hair too short.”

I smiled. “I’ll take you with me next time.”

“Ya know,” she said, and relaxed in my arms, “when my dad was our age he was already back from Vietnam. Nearly done with school. He opened his own practice after only a year out.” She played with what was left of my hair. “Ever want to start your own business, baby?”

I nodded and studied her eyes. She had a serious look in them. But then she kissed me and rolled onto her stomach and propped herself up on her elbows.

“I wish Paul hadn’t come back,” she said.

“Duh.”

“Sara’s probably happy though. But I just wish he’d stayed gone. I was glad when he

left.” She picked at the comforter.

I reached over and turned her face toward me. “Hey. Do you see a point to all this?”

She ran her hand around my neck. Her fingers pressed against my skin. She looked into my eyes and smiled again, soft like before. “Right now I do. Let’s get ready.” She kissed my nose and got up and dressed.

I liked watching Katie get dressed. It brought me back to the moment no matter where my mind had wandered. It was a reminder that she was here with me, and that she wanted to be here with me. There’s nothing in the world like feeling wanted by someone you love. It was what I felt most around Katie. It also reminded me that we had just had sex, which meant life was good. Really good. I put on my shorts and Katie tossed a T-shirt at me.

“You know, Bobby, you could even wear a shirt tonight.”

I grinned and put on the T-shirt. It read, “Another Man for Ann.”

“Don’t s’pose you have weed, do you?” she said. She knew the answer.

I smiled.

She reached into her back pocket and pulled out a small flat box of Ziggy rolling papers and handed them to me. “Here, make yourself useful.”

I pulled out the weed I had brought for just this occasion and rolled a joint. We smoked half of it while Katie brushed her hair and put on her shoes. She put out the joint in the ashtray on her desk. Her desk was a very old but well-cared-for wooden secretary’s desk from the 1930s. Her father had given it to her when she left home for school. It had been used for studying and reading and writing papers and preparing for lectures. Now it was cluttered with books and magazines and Sara’s various hair products and always an empty beer bottle or two.

Katie was a good student, or at least, she had been a good student. She worked hard and was conscientious. But her grades fell dramatically one semester when Paul moved in with Sara and her. The idea was that Paul would sleep on the sofa and that his stay would be temporary. But since Sara and Paul were sleeping together, it was Katie, not Paul, who ended up sleeping on the sofa.

The sofa part was not really that bad, but the drama that came with Paul seemed to follow Sara like a shadow. Katie went from all Bs to straight Ds and Fs. That was the spring semester and in the fall she just didn’t go back. It wasn’t her grades but her parents’ response, or lack of a response, that pushed her into not returning to school. Her parents never asked how her grades were. They didn’t notice. She assumed her dad had seen them, because her home address as far as the University of Texas was concerned was his address. She also assumed he would tell her mother, who was remarried and living in California. But nothing happened. No irate phone calls. No lectures. Nothing. “Un-fucking-believable” was how she put it. She told me she needed a break and that she had every intention of going back to school soon. That was over a year ago.

We walked out of her bedroom and into the living room. Lake was sitting on the sofa with his guitar and drinking beer next to a girl I knew. I nodded.

“Hey,” I said, a little buzzed. I ran my hand up and down Katie’s back. “You wanna drink?”

“No,” she said. “But there’s a bottle of water in the fridge. Why don’t you get it? I’ll pour you another beer and we can go outside.”

I grabbed a water and she filled another plastic cup with Shiner and we walked out into the evening. It was nearly dark and the air had cooled a little, though it would still be considered hot anywhere except maybe Houston. A warm breeze blew that matched the feeling the weed and Katie had left me with. She lit a cigarette and we both leaned into the railing and each other. I drank my beer and stared off at the horizon, past the green and past the live oaks that abutted the apartments. The distant sound of the freeway hummed in front of me while Lake’s guitar wept behind me. Every inch of my body felt good to be alive, and it was at moments like this that I had a fleeting understanding of what youth really was—not freedom, longing.

“Hey, space cowboy.” Katie put her hand on my shoulder and brought me back down to earth. “Don’t s’pose you want to go over to Jeff’s and see what’s the hold up with our three musketeers?”

“They went to Jeff’s?”

“It was their last stop. They were goin’ to go pick up some rum for tonight and stop by Jeff’s on the way back.”

“What?”

“It was Paul’s stop. Sara said Paul promised it was no big deal and that it would only take a second.”

“And you believed that?”

“I s’pose I believed Sara believed it.”

Jeff was a one-man pharmacy; he dealt blow and ecstasy and mushrooms and whatever you might be in the mood for. I wasn’t one to preach healthy living, but I was a good judge of character. I always have been. Jeff was a thug. You couldn’t trust him. He lived off East Riverside just southeast of the river in a house that was surrounded by a chain-link fence to keep in his pit bull.

Jeff also dealt in stolen goods, or so was the rumor. He always had at least one scary and silent type around, and if you had a nice car or a nice car stereo it was best not to take it over to Jeff’s or let Jeff know about it or else you might not have it for long. Of course, if you suspected Jeff of anything, what were you going to do? Call the cops and say, “Hey, I think my drug dealer stole my stereo?”

Paul bought cocaine and ecstasy from Jeff and sold both at a markup. I never understood why Paul sold the drugs. He had plenty of money. His parents were loaded. His father started a medical device company in Dallas and sold it for a bundle. He put a percentage of the sale in trust for each of his kids. When Paul turned twenty-one he inherited stocks and bonds and cash. He drove a red BMW convertible 325i and went skiing every winter and spring, and was the only person I knew who had been to Amsterdam. I could have cared less what Paul was doing, and I had no fear for Danny, but Sara was a different story.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll go over now and come straight back.”

I hoped I would bump into them in the parking lot. I grabbed my keys from Katie’s bedroom and headed out the door. Katie followed.

“Just be careful, okay?” she said.

“I will. I always am.”

“I know, but why don’t you just drive by and if you don’t see their car come on back?”

“Then how will I know if they’ve been there? Look, it’s Jeff the dipshit not Marsellus Wallace.”

“You’re cute.”

“I’ll be right back.” I walked down to the parking lot and started Thelma and headed to Jeff’s place.

Thelma was a tan 1983 Volvo a friend and I had brought back from the dead. I drove her all over Texas and to New England and back and she never left me roadside. She was in top condition, but for an oxidized hood, and she was very appreciative.

I drove with the windows down and thought about Katie. There was fear in her eyes, but not for me. She knew I could take care of myself. I was no super badass or anything, and I wasn’t even that big, but I had this gift or curse or trick or whatever you prefer to call it—when things got hot, I got cool. And I usually knew just what to do and who to do it to first. A place could be coming apart at the seams and I’d feel calm and focused. Sometimes it was the only time I felt focused.

I drove by Jeff’s and there was no sign of Paul’s BMW. A black Corvette that I didn’t recognize sat outside. I parked and looked for signs of the pit bull and didn’t see any and walked to the door and knocked. A guy I didn’t know opened the door just enough so he and I could get a look at each other. Then he just stared at me. He looked as though he spent a good deal of his spare time lifting heavy objects. He had on black jeans and a white T-shirt and spoke with an odd accent.

“Jeff in?” I asked.

“Maybe.”

“Okay, how about Rover? The pooch?”

“You Jeff’s friend? Cause I don’t know you. And I know all Jeff’s friends.”

“That’s Bobby,” said a voice from inside. “I know Bobby. Let Bobby in. Come on in, Bobby, have a seat.”

The hulk moved. Jeff sat in a chair with the pit bull on his left. The hulk motioned for me to come in. I walked inside and scanned the room and Jeff and his dog and what I could see of the house. There was a television on to CNN and no one else appeared to be home. An empty Bacardi bottle sat on the coffee table in front of Jeff. He had a drink in his hand. And the pit bull was unleashed.

“You want a beer, Bobby?” Jeff spoke fast and his eyes were wide. “A line—a lime—or a Coke? I know, how about a Fresca?” He was loud and very high.

I shook my head but grinned. “I’m on an errand, looking for Paul and Danny.” I didn’t mention Sara.

“An errand? An errand for whom?”

“A fool’s errand,” I said in hopes of distracting him and moving the conversation along.

Jeff smiled and laughed and acted as though he knew what I meant. I knew that he didn’t.

“Sit down, Bobby. Come on sit down. Bobby is always running around. Whacha doin’ these days, Bobby? Still doin’ lawns?”

“Landscaping.”

“Oh, right, right.”

The hulk walked in and stood behind me just inside the hallway. I sat down in a chair across from Jeff and the dog.

Jeff looked up at the hulk. “Bobby’s got a green thumb, you know. He can grow fucking anything. How’s business, Bobby? How are those fucking lesbians? You guys should really work with me, you know. They still hot? You didn’t say anything about Sara.”

“What?”

“You said that you were on a fool’s errand looking for Paul and Danny. But you didn’t say Sara. You didn’t even mention Sara. How the fuck can you not mention Sara? I mean, Jesus, Bobby. I’d be looking for Sara any day over goddamn Danny and fuckadoodle Paul. I mean, that bitch is hot. Did you see that little ass? She’s honey.”

Jeff was trying to get a rise out of me, but my friends weren’t there and it was unlikely Jeff was going to tell me anything useful. I stood up to go and the pit bull stood up. I looked at the dog and at Jeff.

“Does he play fetch?”

“Sometimes, Bobby, sometimes. He knows all sorts of tricks. Want to see his tricks?”

“I guess you don’t know where they went?”

“I asked Paul to run an errand for me. You see, Bobby, everyone is running errands tonight. But when you see them, yeah, when you see them, tell Paul that the other is cool. I’ll take care of it myself.” Jeff took a sip of his drink and leaned back farther in his chair.

“The other?”

“Yeah, yeah, this other thing. He’ll know what I mean. Just tell him that. You still seeing Katie?” Jeff looked at the hulk and grinned. “You don’t know Katie. That’s Bobby’s girlfriend. How ya doing with that, Bobby?”

“Fuck you, Jeff,” I said.

Jeff laughed and so did the hulk.

“Wa-ho, Bobby. Listen to Bobby, gettin’ all tough and shit. Bobby’s a tough guy, real Clint Eastwood. Bobby’s a tough guy and he’s got a green thumb.”

“Give me a break. I’ll pass on your message.” I turned to leave.

The hulk stood directly in my path to the door. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He stared at me just as he had on the porch. There was a bottle on the table behind me. My mind raced toward an excuse to turn and grab it and hit him with it. I figured the quicker I got there the better.

“Just make sure you give Paul my message, Bobby, my boy,” Jeff said. “And tell him to send that little senorita back over here. We haven’t seen enough of her lately. But since Paul’s back, we’ll see plenty of her ass.”

In a split second I saw myself snatching the bottle off the table and hitting the hulk with it as hard as I could and turning around and cutting the dog and kicking Jeff square in his teeth. But just as fast I calmed.

“All right,” I said. “That’s cool.”

Jeff motioned and the hulk moved.

I walked outside happy to see Thelma still parked on the street. I drove back to the apartment, mad at myself for letting Jeff get to me. Paul and Sara were getting more mixed up with Jeff than normal. All right. Fine. That was their problem not mine. Had it not been for the party, I would have picked up Katie and headed back to my place and sat outside with her enjoying the quiet and the night before we went to bed. I would wake up in the morning with Katie lying naked beside me feeling like all was right in the world.

But I figured that wasn’t going to happen.

I pulled into the parking lot, which was now full. Paul’s BMW sat next to Danny’s truck. Fucking A. I drove through the lot and back out to the street and parked about fifty yards down. I locked Thelma and walked back to the apartment. Katie was outside in the grass with a beer in her hand talking with a girl and smoking a cigarette. She saw me and said something to the girl and turned and walked my way.

“They-y-y’re hee-ere,” she said.

“I saw his Beemer. What’s up?”

“Paul and Sara are really high, and I’ve seen Paul go into our room a couple of times with different folks.”

“Great. So you’re telling me there’s a room full of cokeheads up there right now?”

“I s’pose there’s a few.”

“Great. Can I get a beer?”

She handed me hers.

“Thanks.” I downed it in two swallows.

“You gettin’ pissed, aren’t you? I know that look.”

“I am. Jeff is a dick and I have to go play messenger. I think he and Paul are partners- in-crime.”

“So what’s new?” Katie said.

“Paul is back is all. I thought things were different?”

“I never said things were different. I said Paul seemed different and I never said how.

And you promised.”

She had me. Arguing wasn’t going to help me at the moment anyway.

“All right. Let’s get this over with.”

She put her hand on my arm. “Listen, I don’t want to stay all night.” She put her arms around me. “Why don’t we cut out in a bit for your place, Mr. Patrick.” She leaned against me and pulled me to her. “And I’ll stay the weekend. If that’s cool with you.”

I smiled and nodded and wrapped my arms around her. “You bet.” I thought it was a great idea. More than great. I wanted to leave the minute the words came out of her mouth.

We walked up the stairs holding hands. Despite all that was running through my mind, this small pleasure lessened my tension and distracted me. Katie always held my hand. If we walked to the store or across campus or even out to the pool, she wanted to hold my hand. Of the million reasons I love Katie, this one had to top the list.

There were people all over the top of the stairs and the landing and we made our way through and went inside.

“Bro. Hey, Bobby,” a familiar voice called.

Paul was standing across the room by the balcony door looking tan and high. He was stocky and outgoing, the life of a party. He wore an Aerosmith T-shirt, expensive faded jeans and Converse sneakers. He had a beer in his hand, which put me a little at ease. I figured Katie was right and that he was coked. So I could reason with him, maybe. If he had been holding a bottle of water, I would have figured that he was on X, which would mean that I couldn’t reason with him. And I really wanted to be reasonable. The music was loud and we had to speak up to be heard.

“Long time no see, bro,” he said. “How ya doin’?”

“Fine. I’m fine. But I heard a rumor about you.”

“Oh shit. What now, bro, not rumors?”

“I heard that you just showed up, like a ghost, right out of thin air.”

“Yeah, I’m glad that’s the one because the other is greatly exaggerated. Listen, bro, you know, I would’ve called but—“

“Or written.”

“Or written, yes, with pen and paper even. Look, I get it. I was a shit. I get it. But it’s all water under the bridge, bro. Water under the bridge. I got things squared away. I got it all figured out. It’s cool. And Sara is cool too. We worked things out. How is your fucking head anyway, bro? I owe you for all that, right?”

“You know, I lived. But listen, I saw a friend of yours earlier.”

Paul lit a cigarette and looked around the room. “Yeah, Katie said you and Uncle Jack went searchin’ . . . all Land of the Lost like.”

“No . . . not like that. Jeff. Jeff told me to tell you something.”

“Really? Well I am all ears, bro.”

“He said that the other, the other thing, don’t worry about it. He’ll take care of it.”

Paul looked around again and rubbed his nose with his knuckle. “Jeff said that?”

“Yep. That’s it.”

Paul blew smoke at the ceiling and took a drink of his beer and flicked his ash three times. “Okay, okay, thanks, bro, thanks. I owe you twice.”

“Nah, you don’t owe me. I’m just giving you a message. How long ya here for?”

“How long am I here for? Come on, Bobby. I said I was sorry. I’m back, bro, I’m back. We’ll have some fun. Promise. You know, I got just the thing you need. Like old times, bro.”

“No, I’m cool, Paul.”

“It’s not like that, bro. Come on, let’s go outside. Let’s go outside.” Paul pulled out a thick green joint.

The idea of getting high just about always appealed to me, and Paul normally had pretty bang-up weed. I looked across the room for Katie. She stood in the kitchen talking to someone. I motioned to her that I was headed out on the balcony with Paul. Katie nodded and raised her hand to indicate she would be there in a second.

Paul lit the joint and passed it. The night air felt good and I was relieved to have relayed the message. The pot relaxed me almost immediately. My mind started focusing and unwinding at the same time. I didn’t know what was going on with him or why he was back, but I figured Paul was still dealing coke and X for Jeff. That would be simple enough. I couldn’t help but think there was something more. Maybe it was because of Katie. Maybe it was because of Jeff, or maybe it was because of how Paul had reacted. Or maybe it was because of the Jolly Green Giant that I was smoking. Whatever the cause, something was off.

It had been about four months since I had last seen Paul. We were at a party at a friend’s place up in the hills off of Mopac. Paul got into an argument with some guys. Someone owed someone money and someone owed someone something else. Exactly who owed whom what I wasn’t sure. But I was sure things about to get rough when a guy walked up behind Paul with a tight fist and clear intent on his face.

I stepped in and decked the guy. It was a lucky right. The first guy in front of Paul moved in on me and I decked him too, but that wasn’t luck. I have a good left. The second guy tackled Paul and I turned and began pulling him off. I was doing pretty well when a sharp pain to the right side of my forehead just at the hairline nearly took me to my knees. I staggered and fell. Liquid ran into my eye and down my face. The left I landed hadn’t been as good as I thought. The guy had hit me in the head with a pint glass.

He came toward me. Danny stepped in with a tennis racquet in his hand.

“Motherfucker,” he said, “take another step and you die. I swear it.”

The bad guys collected themselves and took off in a flurry of obscenities and shattered someone’s car window on the way out. Katie had been good and focused and tended to my wound with ice. She surmised we needed a trip to the ER and got Danny to help me out to his truck.

I turned to Danny as he was helping me up. “Boy, you were brave back there. What’s with all this you’re gonna die crap? Were you going to get all John McEnroe on their ass?”

“Shut the fuck up, Bobby,” Danny said. “You’re really ungrateful at times, you know that?”

He was right.

As we were heading to Danny’s truck Paul and Sara were in the street screaming at each other. Paul stormed off and was gone.

Katie came out onto the balcony and joined us. She took a drag off the joint and exhaled into the night air and leaned into me. Sara walked out and stood on my other side. I handed the joint to her. She took a hit and passed it back. The joint went around one more time and was done. The four of us stood there feeling high and talked about nothing. Katie’s body felt good leaning against me and I enjoyed watching Sara smile and laugh. People spilled out of the apartment onto the landing and out into the grass below. Music permeated the scene and so far the party was a success.

Later in the evening I sat in a deep Papasan chair, which was Danny’s contribution to the apartment. Paul’s weed was stronger than I originally thought and I slowly sank back into the chair with no end in sight. Katie was sitting half on my lap and kissing my neck. She whispered something into my ear and I started coming around. Two guys emerged from one of the back bedrooms and walked Paul through the apartment and out the front door. Katie noticed them too. She got up and went into the kitchen. She got a bottle of water from the fridge and picked up a lighter and a cigarette out of a pack that was sitting on the bar. She lit the cigarette and headed out the door.

I leaned forward and set my beer on the coffee table and got up and staggered to Katie and Sara’s bathroom. It was like every girl’s bathroom—Kleenex, makeup, shampoos and conditioners covered every available surface. I splashed my face and the back of my neck with cold water and drank from the faucet. I dried off with Katie’s towel. The water felt good and woke me up. I opened the door. Two girls stared at me, waiting to get in. I smiled.

“All yours,” I said, and headed toward the kitchen.

I was looking for a clean glass when someone grabbed my arm from behind. It was Katie. She pulled and pushed me toward the door.

“Come on, come on,” she said.

“What are you doin’?”

“Just go, just go. Get out there. Bobby, goddamn it, get out there. Go!”

I entered the landing and saw two guys talking to Paul. One had dark hair, the other blond. The dark-haired guy was pissed about something and in Paul’s face.

“Howdy, y’all,” I said.

The blond stepped forward into my path. “Listen, man, why don’t you just go back to the party.”

“That’s Bobby,” Paul said to him. “Bobby’s cool. This is his girlfriend’s place.”

“Why don’t you go fuck yourself?”

“What did you say, kid?”

“Go . . . fuck yourself.”

He came at me and Paul stepped between us.

“Hold on,” Paul said. He moved me back a little. “It’s cool, bro, it’s cool. I just need to work things out with these guys.”

The dark-haired one had stepped forward. “Listen, why don’t you just relax, let us work things out with your friend here.”

I pushed Paul aside and moved toward him. “You can go fuck yourself too,” I said.

The blond looked around the landing at everyone who had come outside to see a fight.

“What are you looking for?” I said. “Lose something?”

The dark-haired one waved him off. “Come on,” he said. He stared at Paul.

They left and I turned to Paul.

“What’s up with that?” I asked.

“Bro, don’t worry about it.”

Katie was outside on the landing with Sara. She put her hand on my shoulder. “Come on back in.” She shot Paul a look.

“What?” he said.

“What do you think?” Katie said.

A second later a siren wailed and lights turned in the parking lot.

“I guess party’s over,” Sara said.

“Shit.” Katie pulled me aside. “You want to go down there and talk to them?”

“Yeah,” I said, “that’s probably a good idea.”

“Want me to come?”

“No, you stay up here, keep them and anyone who’s fucked up inside. But watch from the landing; I may need you to bail me out of jail.”

“That’s not funny.”

“All right.”

I walked down to where several police were gathering and shooing folks on their way. A plainclothes cop seemed to be in charge so I walked up to him. He had a badge on a chain around his neck with his name underneath—Officer Nguyen. He was holding a notepad and pen and small flashlight.

“This your party?” he asked.

“Yeah, this is my girlfriend’s apartment.”

“We got a noise complaint. Manager said a Katherine Smith lives here.” Nguyen was reading from his notepad.

“That’s my girlfriend. I’m Bobby. We were just about to break it up. Sorry about all this, Officer.”

“Bobby? Bobby Patrick?”

“Yes.”

Nguyen stared at me for a moment, as if placing me in some order or sequence. “Who else lives here?”

“Her roommates. But I don’t know if they’re here.”

“No, that’s okay. Manager has complained before. Just clear it up, all right?”

“Sure. Not a problem. Thanks.”

“Take care.”

I walked back up the stairs as people moved past me going down. Katie was leaning against the railing, near the door. She took my hand.

“How’d it go?”

“You’re cool. He’s not gonna ticket anyone. He knew you lived here though.”

“I s’pose he talked to the manager?”

“That’s what he said.”

“Then I’m amazed he isn’t going to write us up. She hates our ass.”

“He knew me.”

“How’s that?”

“I don’t know, he just did.”

Katie shrugged. “Huh. Let’s get my stuff.”

“All right. Good.”

Katie told me it was Sara who called the cops. Considering how much weed and God-knows-what-else was on Paul and stashed around the apartment, that was odd. My dealings with Jeff and Mr. Blond and his friend had annoyed the hell out of me. The fact a cop knew my name bugged me. I sensed something that I didn’t want. Katie gathered a few things and we readied to leave.

“What the fuck?” I said, lighting into Paul. “Those guys wanted to carve you up. Who the fuck were those guys?”

“I know, Bobby, I know.”

“No, you don’t. You don’t know shit. You’re back less than forty-eight hours and I’m ‘bout to get my ass kicked. I really don’t want any more stitches.”

“It’s not Paul’s fault,” Sara said. “Those guys are just dicks. You saw ‘em”.

“Sara, who were those guys? What were they doing here? What was that about? And why’d you call the cops?”

“Bobby, wait a minute,” Katie said. “Sara didn’t have anything to do with this and she’s right. Those guys were dicks.”

Sara was silent but shot a glance at Paul.

“Fine,” I said. “But why were they here? I mean, will someone please tell me who the fuck those guys were? If y’all didn’t notice, no one else seemed to want to beat the hell out of anyone.”

Katie’s look indicated I might have actually made a point and she waited for a response from the others.

“Look, bro,” Paul said. “Those guys and I just had a failure to communicate, that’s all. It’ll work itself out. Things just got out of hand. Why’d you have to go and tell Dave to fuck himself? That wasn’t cool.”

“I s’pose because he was about to pummel your ass,” Katie said.

“Which one was Dave?” I said.

Paul glanced at Sara, then Katie. There was an inside joke I was missing.

“Fine,” I said. “Look. It’s your deal. So deal with it. Just handle it. That’s all I’m saying.”

Paul laughed. “Sure thing, Dad. Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to, bro?”

“This night is so done,” I said. “I’m out of here.” I grabbed my keys off the bar and headed out the door.

Katie stopped me on the landing. “Wait here a second,” she said and went back inside. She returned a moment later. “Okay let’s go.”

We drove to my place in silence. It was late and we were both tired. I lived in an old apartment north of campus on East Thirty-Third Street. It was in a leafy and quiet part of town that was filled with graduate students and seemed like a world apart from Riverside at the moment.

I parked and we walked up the steps to my apartment. I opened the door for her and we walked in. My apartment was small but had a decent-size kitchen with a long wooden bar. The ceiling was plastered with a circular pattern from the 1950s or early ‘60s and each room had crown molding. There was a vanity and sink in the bedroom between the bathroom and closet. The closet was a large walk-in with a built-in dresser, in which Katie had started leaving her clothes.

I had an old dresser that had come with me from East Texas, a simple writing table for a desk, a bookcase filled with books, and a square crate table that belonged to an ex-girlfriend from Houston. I also had a TV that was as old as I was and had belonged to a great-aunt, an inexpensive sofa I got from a friend, two straight-back chairs I “borrowed” from the UT History Department, and a bed. It was the most I had ever owned in my life. I was twenty-four years old.

I closed the door and Katie wrapped her arms around me from behind.

“I’m sorry about tonight,” she said.

“It wasn’t your fault, baby.”

“You were tough though.”

“That was just talk.”

“Want me to run you a bath? Wanna shower?”

I turned and faced her. “Maybe.”

Katie leaned into me and rested her head against my chest. My hands found her hips.

“You always know what to do, Bobby.”

I lifted her head. “What’s up?”

“What?”

“Those goons. Who were they?”

She looked away. “I don’t know ‘em. Someone Paul knows. Damn it, I wish he would’ve stayed gone.”

“Katie . . .”

“I’m sorry I pushed you out there. I was scared and that was all I could think to do.”

“It’s fine. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. I should have fucking done something. I don’t know what Sara is doing—oh, she pisses me off. This is what I was talking about. I’m so sick of this shit, of their shit.”

“It’s fine. Don’t worry. I’m going to shower.”

I kissed her and walked back to the bathroom, turned the water on, undressed and stepped in. I stood in the shower for a long time and let the hot water run over my back and tried to clear my head. I stepped out through a wall of steam and into the bedroom and toweled off.

Katie sat naked on the edge of the bed. She was holding a small ceramic ashtray I had made for her and smoking the rest of the joint we rolled earlier. She looked up and smiled. She put out the joint and stood and let her hands fall by her sides. “Let’s go to bed.” view abbreviated excerpt only...

Discussion Questions

How does randomness impact the lives of the two main characters?

Is the “good life” for which the two lovers are struggling an illusion? And if so, why do they, and we, struggle for it?

Why doesn’t Katie tell Bobby about her pasts earlier in their relationship? And why does Bobby have a blind-spot to it?

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