Page 1 of Keep Vegas

part one

vive la france

12 YEARS AGO

tony

Paris–Twelve Years Ago

“For a charm of powerful trouble, Like a hell-broth boil and bubble.” I dodge the shoe thrown at me.

“Shut up, Tony. We all know you got an A on your Macbeth paper,” Colt chides from across the room.

“Yes, but I’m bored.” I walk from one end of the room to the other and finish my witches’ quote, then turn to my friends, who are not drunk enough, and say, “Good Knights, a wager?”

“Odds?” Danny looks up from the poker game he’s currently crushing and grins. My roommate and one of my best friends is always up for a bet.

I survey the room. It’s small but workable for the next few months as we revel in a semester in Paris. I drain my beer, then pop another one.

This guy from Texas who just appeared at our poker table speaks up, “What in the hell y’all betting on?” I’ve dubbed him Tex.

I crouch on the bed like a gargoyle. “Let’s wager”—we always have a bet going in some way or another — “how long it takes Colton to find a hook-up.” Danny and I fuck around but our best friend, Colt, he always has a steady girl.

Colt pipes up, “End-of-term history paper.”

“Are you saying you won’t get a steady girl the entire time we’re in France?”

Colt nods. “Yes. And I’ll do your end-of-term history papers if I do.” He puts his hand out to shake at the same time Danny texts his older brother and I text mine.

“Do we have to involve everyone?” he groans.

I shrug. “You know we don’t bet without the big brothers, you silly rabbit.” I glance at my text from my brother. “Dax is in.”

“I’m not writing college papers, you assholes.” Colt winces. He forgot it’s always a five-way bet.

DAX: Tell him it will be for Earth Sciences instead of History.

COLT: No fucking way. I’m not writing a fucking college paper on rocks.

ROBBIE: I’ll take cash—50 bucks.

COLT: 50 bucks to the assholes who aren’t in Paris, and I write papers for the idiots standing next to me if I fail.

Colt looks at Danny and me, and we all shake on it.

TONY: Candy. Baby.

“Now, let’s find something to tempt you with, good and just knight. Sir Cockitup!”

Colton groans, “Dude. I’m so sick of being a knight. Come on. Can we drop the round table shit?”

He’s a surly one tonight. We started fucking around with being knights and jousting in the fall at prep school. It makes me laugh, so I keep doing it. And it’s so fucking sweet when I rile Colton up. His voice gets this annoying comedic pitch. Everyone’s sitting around looking at me, so I amp it up.

“Sir Colton, there’s only a fortnight till the good harvest and a celebration will be had to honor the equinox.”

“Oh, my God. Knock it off, Tony. This is bugging the crap out of me. And who cares about the freaking autumnal equinox?”

Danny doesn’t miss a beat. “Vernal.”