Speed

Chapter 14

After everything went bloodied with Damian making an unwelcome cameo, the night's vibe took a nosedive, then sorta recovered... kind of like a bad remix of a song you used to enjoy. Hours had passed since Damian bounced, leaving behind a cocktail of tension and bruised egos. The party, or what was left of it, somehow trudged on.

Jordan, who'd vanished into the night with a storm cloud over his head and probably a bottle in his hand, finally staggered back to where Ryan and I were rehashing the night's drama.

"Look who decided to join the land of the living... or at least the semi-coherent," I quipped as Jordan flopped down next to us, clearly having turned to alcohol to blunt the edges of the evening.

He shot me a look that was meant to be a smirk but ended up more like a grimace. "Miss me?"

Ryan leaned in, his usual upbeat tone edged with concern. "We were just talking about the world-class disaster that was tonight. You holding up?"

Jordan's attempt at nonchalance was as thin as the paper plates from which we'd been eating. "Oh, you know, just another day in paradise," he slurred, waving a hand vaguely in the air before letting it drop.

The sarcasm was heavy, and so was the air around us. "Man, that showdown with Damian... What a mess," I said, unable to hide my worry. "You went from zero to sixty faster than your Supra."

Jordan let out a bitter laugh, rubbing a hand over his face. "Yeah, well, he has a talent for being a complete sack of shit. Could I handle it? Go ask his face. And then, the booze seemed like a good idea at the time."

"You and ideas tonight, not the best mix, bro," I nudged him gently, trying to lighten the mood just a tad.

Ryan chimed in, ever the mediator. "Let's not forget the elephant not just in the room but trampling all over it – Damian is gonna come back for blood. You know that, man."

Jordan's face darkened, a shadow passing over his features. "Don't. I can't even start to deal with that right now."

There was a raw edge to his voice, a pain that the alcohol couldn't drown. Seeing him like this, so out of sorts, it was a gut punch. The Jordan I knew, the unflappable leader of our makeshift family, was momentarily MIA, leaving behind this version that was all too human and hurt.

"Jordan, dude, you don't have to deal with it alone," I said, my own frustrations and heartaches taking a backseat to the palpable grief of my friend. "We're here, for all the mess, the good, the bad, and the Damian-induced rage catastrophes."

"Yeah, man. You're not solo on this track," Ryan added, a solemn nod underscoring his words.

Jordan looked at us, really looked, and for a second, the veil of intoxication lifted, revealing the gratitude and the burden he carried. "Thanks, guys. I... It means a lot. Just, tonight was supposed to be simple. Fun. And then it all went to hell."

"The best-laid plans, huh?" I offered a wry smile. "But hey, we're the Sun City Fires. Since when do we do simple?"

The night wore on, the party's pulse a distant echo as we sat in our bubble of camaraderie, nursing wounds and fortifying the bonds that had, so far, weathered storms of all magnitudes. And as I looked at Jordan, then at Ryan, I realized that despite the chaos, the heartache, and the uncertainty, this – us, this moment – was what mattered. We'd pick up the pieces tomorrow, but for now, we had each other's backs, just as we always did.

As the night wore on and the desert sky transitioned into deeper shades of indigo, I couldn't help but notice Jordan's condition deteriorate. He'd always been the rock of our group, but tonight, after everything that had gone down with Damian, he'd sought solace at the bottom of a bottle. Now, he was far past the point of being able to drive, weaving slightly as he moved and laughing a bit too loudly at things that weren't exactly funny.