Chapter 4
CHAPTER FOUR
WEBB
Damn, Luke Williams was hard to dislike, once I got over hating him.
“Hockey… is like life,” Luke informed me, sipping on a Rusty Spike with his dark hair standing on end and his cheeks flushed dark pink.
I nodded sagely. “Profound, yet true.”
“There are many nets, obviously. Everyone has their own net.” He gestured with his glass to encompass the entire world in his metaphor. “And some of us are red guys.” He pointed at himself. “And we are just trying to do our jobs and run the puck down the… the…”
“Ice?” I suggested.
“Yes,” Luke agreed gratefully. “We are trying to run it down the ice so we can smash it in the net with our hooks, because that’s what we are born to do.
And some people are blue men.” He pointed at me.
“And they’re trying to stop us from smashing by smashing us instead.
And that’s annoying, Webb. It’s annoying.
But it’s kinda your job. So I’ll allow it. It’s okay.”
“Thank you,” I said sincerely.
“But then there are the black-and-white stripey dudes, and they just… they blow their whistles and throw up roadblocks when good people are just trying to do their job. And all of a sudden, everything is stopped and nothing is fun anymore. It’s like everyone is fighting.
They restrain the men in the plastic boxes, and it’s all so excessive and confusing. That’s what I think anyway.”
“Uh-huh.” I nodded. “And I think you’re drunk.”
“Maybe so. Maaaaybe so. But I’m also not wrong.” Luke sucked down more of his drink, and a tiny bit of liquid dribbled down his chin.
I wanted to lean over and wipe it off with my thumb, and it was getting harder to remember why I wasn’t supposed to do that.
“Just let the men do their jobs!” he shouted, smacking the table with his palm. “No more plastic boxes!”
“Fuck yeah!” Alan Laroche pointed across the bar at Luke and grinned. “Exactly what I’m saying, Williams! The refs are blind, eh?”
Luke looked startled for a second, like he’d forgotten where he was. “So blind!” he told Alan. To me, he murmured, “What, um… did I miss?”
I ran a hand over my mouth to hide my smile. “Penalty for elbowing,” I explained. “You can ram a player but not with your elbows out.”
“Oh. Yeah, that sounds dangerous.” He frowned like the elementary school teacher he was. “Okay, so maybe sometimes plastic boxes are necessary.”
“Imagine that? The NHL will be grateful for your support,” I said solemnly.
I’d stopped counting how many drinks I’d consumed after the third round Luke and I had ordered together, but it was safe to say I was far, far drunker than I’d been in two decades.
I was so drunk, I was listening to my nemesis neighbor expound on hockey as a metaphor for life, which was the highest level of drunk.
Luke grinned and knocked his booted foot into mine companionably, and I grinned back.
When he turned his head to look at the TV, I noticed a tiny smudge of dried purple poster paint on his face, and a warm, affectionate kind of feeling came over me that I usually only got when Aiden, Hawk, or Gage did something sweet.
Okay, no, wait, correction. I was listening to my nemesis neighbor expound on hockey, and I was enjoying it. So much so that I wasn’t sure it was remotely accurate to call him my nemesis anymore. That’s how drunk I was.
I laughed lightly to myself and tried to hide it by sipping my drink.
From this close, I could see Luke had a smattering of freckles on his nose, and I felt the most bizarre need to count them.
Then he wrinkled his nose and his freckles scattered, so I had to count again.
I couldn’t help but notice the way his sweater sleeves were still down over his wrists, like his hands were cold even in this sauna-hot bar.
I couldn’t help but notice him…
And I realized in a flash that I was so drunk, I was thinking Luke Williams—a dude—was kind of… good-looking. Which was a level of drunk I’d literally never achieved before.
A level of drunk I hadn’t known I could achieve.
And I wondered idly if I was going to be more surprised about it in the morning, but in the moment, it just felt good.
Like flirting with the blonde at the bar but better, because I was never going to use a pickup line on the man, and Luke was already acquainted with the complexities of my life and didn’t seem put off.
Hell, he was half the complexities of my life.
Maybe it was the Rusty Spikes talking, but being friends with Luke seemed way easier than hating him, and I felt stupid for not realizing it sooner.
In fact, I was having so much fun, I almost didn’t care that my brother had abandoned me. It was, weirdly, exactly what I’d needed but hadn’t known I’d needed that night.
“You,” I proclaimed magnanimously, “are not awful.”
“Oh. Wow.” Luke blinked his attention away from the television. “Thank you?”
“In fact, I like you. I think we should be friends.”
“Really?” His gaze narrowed. “Are you just saying that because I cried? Because that’s gross.”
“No!” I thought about it and admitted, “Okay, maybe a little. But only because it made me realize I was being a jerk. And you’re wrong, you know.
I don’t know a soul in town who doesn’t like you.
I don’t know why you say they don’t talk to you, ’cause I can’t get ’em to fucking shut up about you.
But that’s neither here nor there. The point is, I was unfair to you. For reasons.”
“What reasons?”
“Well.” I scrunched up my face. The reasons existed. I knew they did. Somewhere at the periphery of my brain. But damned if I could catch the slippery fuckers. “You make my stomach feel—” I made a vague motion to my abdomen.
“Nauseated?” Luke asked, wide-eyed. “Oh my God, is it my cologne? Wait, I don’t wear cologne. Is it me?”
“—and you’re a damn ice cream fiend.”
He blinked. “Oh. Well, no, that’s true,” he admitted sorrowfully. “And that’s… a deal breaker?”
I spread my hands. “I promise, it sounded more convincing in my brain.”
“Ah.” Luke nodded. “Happens to me all the time.”
“So… friends?” I said again.
“Heck yeah! See, good things happen all the time, even when you least expect them!”
Luke’s eyes, already glassy from the alcohol, almost glowed with excitement, and I had to look away. I couldn’t remember the last time anyone had looked so happy with me for so little effort.
“I still don’t want anything to do with your sheep, though,” I muttered. “Especially if it involves me carrying them over my shoulders.” My back twinged just thinking about it.
“No, no,” he agreed quickly. “Promise. The ladies keep to themselves anyway. But you and I can be… neighbor friends. And maybe Drew can make me pie again.” Luke hesitated. “So do we, like, shake hands now? Because it feels like we need to commemorate this? Or maybe—”
The most random idea occurred to me, and I burst out laughing at how perfect it was. Not only the perfect way to commemorate a new friendship, but also the perfect way to let the town know—if they really didn’t know already—that Luke Williams was a good, friendship-worthy guy.
“Okay… okay… so Van was telling me this story earlier— Shhhhh. Shhhhh,” I insisted, even though I was the one who kept interrupting myself with bouts of drunken giggles. “Did you ever hear the story of the Unity Bugle?”
Luke shook his head, looking mystified and intrigued.
“So, that bugle on the plaque by the door is the Unity Bugle.” I pointed.
“It’s how the bar got its name. And according to Van, it’s like…
there was a pretty girl? And sheep, which is fitting.
And… other things. A father, maybe? But then there was a preacher who came and brought goodwill.
And… I’m honestly not sure how the bugle came into play, but then the spirit of friendship lives inside the bugle to this very day, and they lived happily ever after just like in a fairy tale. ”
“Just like in a…” Luke’s eyes flashed like this meant something to him. “Wait, who lived happily ever after?”
“Uh.” I frowned. “Unclear. The whole town, maybe? Or the pretty girl. Either way, friendship. Unity.”
“Right! Yeah! Okay! Awesome! So…” Luke paused, and his face crumpled. “Wait, no, I don’t understand at all. What do we do?”
“We blow the bugle on the town common,” I explained patiently. “To show that we forgive each other, and we have unity now.”
“Awwww. We have unity now.” Luke pressed his hands to his cheeks. “We sure do!”
I pushed out of the booth and reached out a hand to help him out, and then the two of us ran for the entrance like we were Aiden’s age. The place had mostly cleared out now that the game was over, and there were only a few folks sitting at the bar chatting with Van.
Luke and I got our jackets off the hooks.
“Is that the bugle?” he whispered, pointing to the plaque. “It looks old.”
I looked at it—really looked—for the first time in years.
It did look old, and the year 1767 etched below it confirmed this.
It occurred to me that maybe, possibly Van wasn’t going to want a couple of drunk guys to take the precious bugle out into the night, even if we had the best possible intentions.
“Where ya goin’?” Van demanded. “Thought Knox was taking you both home after the meeting. It ain’t over yet.”
It wasn’t? Jesus. I was doubly glad I hadn’t gone.
“Er. He is,” I said. “But Luke and I just need to, um, do a quick thing first.” I sounded about as suave as Aiden when he was trying to get away with something—the kid was the worst liar ever—and I gave Luke a helpless look.
Van braced both hands on the bar top and watched me suspiciously. “What quick thing?”
“A historical reenactment,” Luke cut in, using his best, most official teacher voice. “Webb was telling me about the, ah… the inspiring bugle story you told him earlier—”
I nodded enthusiastically. It was funny how hearing him say my name in that uptight voice was actually kind of a thrill, now that we were on the same team.
“—and so he and I decided we would reenact the bugle blowing, to cement the change in our relationship.”
Van’s eyes were wide as saucers, and he looked at me. “You? You want to blow the bugle with… him? A lad?”
I was aware that I hadn’t been very fair to Luke until about an hour before. I’d been stubborn and even a little immature. But I regretted that. And I resented the implication that I couldn’t change my mind and offer the man friendship.
I threw my arm around Luke’s shoulders, pulling him so he stumbled drunkenly against my side with his head against my neck. “Yes, with him. And he’s not a lad, he’s a grown man, thank you very much. I like him. And the whole town should know it.”
There. That should take care of any lingering bad feelings. Not that I thought there actually were any.
“And that’s why Webb and I want to be…” Luke broke off, like he was searching for the right word.
“United,” I supplied. “Hence, the Unity Bugle.”
“United,” Luke repeated, taking the bugle off the wall. “You’re so good at words, Webb.”
“Aw. Thanks.” I stood a little taller. Not a lot of people appreciated it, but I had a fucking great vocabulary.
Van’s jaw dropped. “Holy shit. Hooooly shit.” He held out a hand toward a man on a stool. “Pinch me, Ravi. Webb’s being sweet to someone who’s not his kid.”
I scowled. I could be sweet!
When it was warranted.
It just… was never warranted, that’s all.
“And you two are sure you know how the bugle blowing works?” Van demanded.
Luke shot me a look of disbelief, and I snickered. How hard could it be? It was a bugle. You blew it. The instructions were right there in the action.
“Yeah. We know how it works,” Luke assured him.
“Hot damn,” Van breathed. “I have no idea what the protocol here is! I’m gonna have to tell the mayor, of course.”
He made it sound like we were stealing the fucking thing.
“Jesus. We’ll have it back to you in two minutes, Van. You’re ruining the mood.” I rolled my eyes and grabbed Luke’s free hand. “Come on.”
“Do you know the Unity Pledge?” Van called. “There’s a ritual, you know! You have to hold up your hand and say ‘I, Webb Sunday, pledge unity…’”
The door closed behind us as we ran out into the cold night, cutting him off.
We jogged as far as the gazebo in the center of the town common, when Luke turned to me, laughing so hard he was gasping for air. “This might be… the most ridiculous thing… I’ve ever done.”
“I did some pretty ridiculous stuff as a kid, but it’s been a while.
This is not responsible dad behavior.” But, shit, for once I didn’t care.
We weren’t hurting anyone, or permanently tattooing our faces, or running off to Vegas—God forbid.
We were two fully clothed men, having silly fun.
And I felt lighter and younger than I had in years.
“M’kay.” Luke held up his hand like he was taking an oath in court. “I, Luke Williams, pledge unity with you, Webb Sunday.”
“Thomas Webb Sunday,” I corrected. “To be official.”
“Oh. Interesting. Okay, Thomas Webb Sunday,” he repeated. Then he blew the bugle.
It sounded like I imagined a flatulent rhinoceros would, and the two of us laughed our asses off.
I held up my hand so we were palm to palm.
Luke’s hand was so small and chilly against mine that it was instinctive for me to wrap my fingers around his.
“I, Thomas Webb Sunday, pledge unity with you, Luke Williams.” Then I took the bugle and blew it also, long and loud enough folks probably heard it in Two Rivers.
And it might have been the alcohol talking—okay, it was definitely the alcohol talking—but the whole thing felt weirdly important. Momentous. Right.
At least it did until I noticed the town meeting had let out and the entire population of Little Pippin Hollow was standing around the town common, just watching us.
“Is that the Unity Bugle?” a woman’s shocked voice demanded.
“Mother of God, is that Webb and the teacher? Are they holding hands? Have they blown it?”
“Did you say Webb blew the teacher?”
“They’ve recited the vows!” a man’s voice exclaimed.
“They said they knew how it worked,” Van confirmed. “They said they wanted to cement the change in their relationship.”
“Did someone tell the mayor? Has the scroll been invoked?”
The scroll?
I snickered at the confusion on Luke’s face, which perfectly reflected my own.
“Not a hundred percent sure what’s happening right now,” I whispered. “But I feel like we failed at uncomplicating things.”
And that feeling was confirmed a moment later when my brother’s voice rang out across the common.
“Webb Sunday, what have you done?”