Page 44 of Just for the Plot

“Last night. They were one of the only places open, and I thought, lamb kabob, why not?”

His cheeks puff out, a gurgle moving up his throat, and all I can say is fuck that, I’m not that good of a friend. I release him, taking a step back, and wince as he opens his mouth and lets out an echoing belch that vibrates my entire spine.

Jesus Christ.

“Oh fuck,” he says, gripping his stomach, hunched over for a beat before he stands taller, assesses himself, and then smiles. “Shit, that…that kind of helped.”

“Jesus, dude, you’re disgusting.”

Nolan scoffs at me. “It’s a burp, nimrod. Go clutch your pearls somewhere else.”

Then without my assistance, he strolls into the stadium, me walking slightly behind him.

After a few seconds of silence, I say, “So, I went through with your plan.”

“What plan was that? I offer up so many successful ones, I can’t keep track.” He heads into the cafeteria, where he pops his sunglasses on his head and grabs a few Powerades, two for each hand.

“Oh, I don’t want any.”

“They’re not for you,” he says, walking past me again.

For someone who looked like they were about to drop to their knees and keel over, he sure seems fine now. Did he really just need to burp to solve his problems? Wouldn’t put it past him. He’s that kind of guy.

“You really just going to drink all of those?”

“Going to pound them.”

“Don’t you think that’ll upset your stomach more?”

“You fail to remember I’m a different breed.”

“Yeah, never fail to remember that,” I say as we head into the lockerroom, where most of our team is chatting and getting their warm-up gear on.

Nolan heads straight for the recliners in the middle of the locker room and flops back on one, lifting the footrest at the same time. Once settled, he uncaps a Powerade and starts chugging it before flipping his sunglasses back down and then holding the bottle close to his chest, like it’s a stuffed animal he can’t live without.

And because I have some time to spare and apparently love the torture, I take a seat next to him.

“So, uh…like I said, I went through with your plan.”

“Oh, right. What plan?”

“The one we talked about, where I set up Bower with someone else, so I could swoop in and look like the good guy.”

“Oh, right,” he says, taking another sip.

“I texted her the guy’s information before I left the zoo. Graydon got it to me today.”

“Who was it?” Nolan asks. “I know a few guys on the team.”

“Cougar Vajeen.”

Nolan straightens and flips his sunglasses up so his bloodshot eyes are boring into me. “Cougar Vajeen?”

“Uh, yeah, is that, uh…is that a problem?”

“Who the fuck’s idea was that?”

Sweat starts to tickle the back of my neck. “Graydon. I told him I needed a douchebag, and that’s who he came up with, or at least that’s who his friend Hutton came up with.”