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Alexander attends opening night, because of course he does. He doesn’t tell Cody, but P.J. gets him a seat in the second row, right in the middle. He’s bouncing in his seat, as the lights dim and the opening strains of music start to play. A woman, Alexander recognizes Bel, starts the show on acrobatic silks, singing the whole while. Kevin gets his introduction, running on stage and getting dragged off by ensemble members in trench coats.
Then a spotlight hits the left side of the stage and Cody lights up. Despite how ragged and pitiful he looks in costume, Alexander thinks that he’s never looked better. He opens his mouth to sing and Alexander can tell he loves it. And he does so well, Alexander almost forgets it’s Cody on stage. He’s over the top in all the right ways, effeminate and sassy, yet cowardly at all the wrong moments.
The story gets moving, Cody is a prisoner in a 1970’s Venezuelan jail and Kevin is thrown into his cell. Cody carries the show, Kevin’s acting much more subdued, but it works. Even “Dressing Them Up,” which Alexander has accidentally memorized, is new and exciting when put on stage. At one point during the song, Alexander thinks Cody sees him, but if he does, the boy continues on flawlessly.
The others in the show do well, sure, but Alexander’s eyes are locked on Cody. This, this is who Cody is. He exudes confidence. The once-broken man is nowhere to be seen on stage.
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Cody finishes Act one riding the high. He thinks he saw Alexander in the crowd, but the stage lights are always so bright, he can’t be sure. It doesn’t matter, though. Adrenaline is coursing through his veins. For the first time in months, Cody feels good in his own skin.
God, he’s missed this.
Act two opens with his favorite number, Bel nailing the Russian accent she’d worked so hard on. Cody and Kevin don’t do much, but Bel is wonderful. Kevin gets through his show-stopper and Cody follows up with a smaller song.
Then: “Anything For Him.”
No matter how many times Cody does it, it’s still hard for him to disconnect from the song. “I’d do anything for him,” he starts, trying to focus on his blocking and not think too hard. But the tears that spring to his eyes halfway through the song aren’t completely faked. Kevin’s part matches his own, and it’s too easy and too hard all at once not to put Thomas there. Cody’s supposed to be in love with Kevin, Kevin is using him for his own purposes.
“He’d do anything for me, I can tell,” Kevin’s voice resounds and echoes through the speakers, and it hits Cody like a brick. Caught in the moment, Cody can’t tear Thomas away from the words. He’s grateful the light is off of him as he feels the tears start to spill over.
Cody’s grateful for Bel’s small chorus before he has to start again, but it’s not enough. Cody can feel his voice start to shake. He tries to keep it steady, he needs to duet with Kevin, but it’s starting to fail him. He hopes the audience can’t tell, thinks he’s just acting but he can feel himself start to break apart. He doesn’t know what’s happening, maybe it’s because there are people watching, but the shame and guilt and regret are swirling in his head and it’s not working he’s failing he’s not good enou-
P.J. is looking at him from the wings. Cody catches his eye and the other man shoots him a thumbs up. And somehow, that’s enough. His voice steadies, and when Kevin looks at him for the final refrain, Cody can look him in the eye right back. It’s enough to keep Cody from cracking on the last note, to keep him composed until the scene is over and Kevin blocks him from audience view.
Their mikes go off to quiet the sound of their breathing and Kevin mutters “You okay?” Cody, still breathing hard, nods.
“I’m fine,” he breathes.
And the show goes on. Cody kisses Kevin like he’s supposed to without hesitation, suddenly internally calm. He blows through the next scene, and the one after, until he’s standing in front of Kevin, fake gun pointed to his head. There’s a beat of silence in the music, then:
“I love you!” His last spoken line in the show, the gun goes ‘off’ and he hits the floor. Kevin is dragged off screaming and the music picks up again. Bel collects him off the floor, helps him into the director’s chair and hands him the dress and shawl. As the ensemble swarms around him, protecting him from audience view, he changes; throwing his shirt off, sliding the dress on and taking the sweats off.
The ensemble clears and Cody stands up. He thinks he hears gasps in the audience and he lets a grin crawl across his face. The music picks up and he makes a last-second decision. As he sings the first few words to the closing song, he lets the shawl drop from his shoulders and hit the chair.
Part of him knows that Lloyd is going to be angry with him for changing something on opening night, but as Cody moves downstage without it, he can’t help but feel powerful. “Optimistic endings,” he sings, jauntily, grinning. “Passionate romances.” He winks at a corner of the audience. He turns around to head upstage for his next lyric, not even thinking about how he’s baring his back to the audience until he turns back around, but he doesn’t care.
“Only in the movies.”
Cody moves through the song, walking on air. It’s almost like a dream, he thinks, but it’s muted. He’s so in the moment, his thought process has almost gone dead. The rest of the company moves and dances around him, and Cody feels himself breathe in sync with them.
“I kept on pretending I was in the movies,” Cody sings. He twirls into Kevin’s arms and is dipped, smiling brightly up at the other man. Kevin’s hand holds him up, fingers splayed across his back and scars, but Cody doesn’t flinch away. He’s comfortable. “But everything changed when I met you.” He stands, drawing Kevin into a mock-waltz, despite the music being nowhere near a waltz. “You've changed my life somehow. Everything changed when I met you. I find I walk In Technicolor now.”
And then again into Kevin’s arms, collapsing as he ‘dies’ again, the final part of his song delivered from the ground. And then, finally, springing back to his feet as the chorus sings around him. Then, standing center-stage, gazing out into the audience, the lights fall for the last time.
The audience erupts into cheers as the entire company rushes off stage. The lights come back up and the ensemble enters for their bows. Cody can see the audience start to rise to their feet. Then the supporting cast in two groups, and finally the leads. Cody grabs onto Bel and Kevin’s hands and leads them down stage to thunderous applause. They take their individual bows and Cody hears Alexander whistle for him when it’s his turn. They motion to the orchestra and the crew, and the entire company bows together.
Cody can feel himself beaming as he stands there, listening to the audience cheer and clap. He raises his hands, still clasped in Bel’s and Kevin’s, and laughs. In this moment, Cody is happy, Cody is glorious.
Cody is enough.
The curtain falls and Cody runs into the wings. P.J., taking off his headset almost doesn’t see him in time, but opens his arms at the last second. Cody leaps into the hug, grinning into his friend’s shoulder. “Thank you,” he mutters.
“For what?” P.J. whispers back.
“Everything,” Cody laughs.
“Hey, now, what happened tonight?”
Cody leans back, sees the grin on his friend’s face and replies: “I forgave myself.”
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Alexander collapses into his seat after the curtain falls. He has to take a minute before he can stand again. Seeing Cody so unapologetically himself and happy, it’s overwhelming. His knees are weak with relief. Eventually he pulls himself from the cheap upholstery, and follows the crowd out the door. He can feel himself grinning like an idiot, but he doesn’t care.
The moment he’s out of the door he turns to the right and takes off around the theatre. There’s already a small crowd gathering at the stage door, but Alexander pushes his way through to the front. He has to be here, has to be one of the first people Cody sees. He clutches his playbill to his chest and can’t stop bouncing.
The door opens, and the crowd stiffens, but it’s only P.J., sliding out to help corral the crowd. He sees Alexander there in the front and his eyes light up.
“Alexander!” He exclaims, patting the shorter man on the shoulder.
“God, that was incredible,” Alexander breathes. P.J. nods an agreement.
“Cody did a fantastic job,” P.J. remarks. Alexander goes to speak, hesitates, and looks up at the large assistant stage manager.
“How much has Cody told you?” He asks. “He said you know most of it…”
P.J. shakes his head. “I’m sure I barely know half of it.” Alexander bites his lip but says what he wants to anyway.
“When I first met him, well, you wouldn’t believe me if I told you what kind of state he was in. To see him so happy tonight was…” Alexander makes a little noise and throws his hands in the air. It’s the best approximation to how he’s feeling right now. P.J. laughs. “I’m so proud of him,” Alexander finishes.
P.J. snorts. “God, you are like his dad.”
“Not you too!” Alexander gives him a shove, which P.J. returns. It nearly knocks Alexander off his feet; he stumbles into the person next to him. Chuckling, he straightens and turns to apologize when, over the heads of the rest of the crowd he sees-
“Oh fuck,” Alexander mutters. The stranger looks at him in confusion, and Alexander rushes to say: “Not you, sorry for bumping into you, gotta go.” Alexander turns on his heel and pulls on P.J.’s sweatshirt until he bends down. “P.J., go get Cody. Keep him inside. Stall him, but don’t freak him out. I’ll text him when he can come out,” Alexander hisses
“What’s going on?” P.J. whispers back.
“Nothing, I just gotta take care of something.” Alexander turns, tries to make his way down the crowd of people but a hand on his shoulder pulls him back.
“It’s him, isn’t it,” P.J. asks, his voice just loud enough over the hubbub for Alexander to hear. “Thomas is here.” Alexander nods and tries to shrug away from P.J., but the man just grabs on tighter.
“Wait, I can get security,” P.J. offers. Alexander stops and looks back at him. Yeah, that’s probably for the best, he thinks. He says that much to P.J., who nods. His face is grim set as he asks Alexander to point Thomas out.
“Down the line, opposite side. Tall, dark skin, giant head of hair. Pink coat,” Alexander lists, looking at Thomas from the corner of his eye. P.J. follows his head, glancing around until his eyes settle.
“Next to the old couple and the blonde girl?”
“Yeah, yeah, that’s him.” P.J. nods and steps back from Alexander. He turns to look Thomas dead on, and his face settles into one of pure determination and anger. P.J. takes off across the group of people, walking away from the theater and towards Thomas. Alexander blinks. “P.J.! I thought you were getting security!” He calls. P.J. nods.
“I am security,” he replies. Alexander starts, goes to follow, but stops. He turns to the woman he stumbled into.
“Hey, can I ask a favor? Great,” he says, without waiting for an answer. “If you see the lead- Cody Shuck? The guy who played Molina? Yeah, him- and I’m not back yet, stop him here. Don’t let him leave, okay? Tell him Alexander says to wait inside.” Without waiting to see what the woman says, Alexander takes off after P.J., trying to jog to catch up to him in time. He watches P.J. approach Thomas and say something to him, Alexander can’t hear what. Thomas replies, there’s barely a pause and P.J. goes for it. He punches Thomas low and hard, and Thomas doubles over in pain.
The crowd around the two men gasps and clears a small area as Alexander struggles to get through to them. P.J. winds up again and hits Thomas in the nose. Thomas goes sprawling, hitting the ground in a little ball and only barely managing to catch himself with his hands.
“P.J.!” Alexander exclaims, finally forcing his way through the last of the bystanders. He grabs P.J.’s arm before P.J. can kick Thomas in the stomach. “Stop!”
“Why?” P.J. spits back. “Fucker deserves it.”
“I know, but-”
“Then why shouldn’t I?” P.J. wrenches his arm from Alexander’s grasp. Thomas is trying to push himself back into a standing position, but P.J. throws himself onto the taller man before Thomas gets too far. In a flash, P.J. is straddling Thomas, using his knees to pin his hands down and he starts wailing on him.
And Thomas just takes it.
Alexander lurches into action, trying to grab P.J. by the arms and pull the man off, but he’s not very successful. His military days are behind him and there’s a little voice in his head that’s telling him just to let P.J. go for it. Alexander catches an elbow to the cheek and he staggers back. The crowd is just watching, no one moving to stop P.J. and Alexander doubts any of them have called the police. Alexander readies himself to try and tackle P.J. off when-
“What’s going on here?”
Alexander winces as he registers the voice as Cody’s, and he turns just in time to see the young actor push his way through the ring of observers. In a second, Alexander is there, putting his hands on Cody’s chest and trying to push him back through the crowd.
“Nothing, Cody, go wait in the car, I’ll give you my keys-”
“Is that Thomas?” Cody asks, craning his head to see around Alexander. Alexander winces, tries to get Cody back into the crowd but the smaller man twists out of Alexander’s hands and slides around him.
“Cody, wait-” Alexander tries to grab onto the back of Cody’s hoodie, but the boy is too fast. Cody is by P.J.’s side grabbing his friend’s shoulders and pulling.
“P.J., what the hell are you doing?” He exclaims. P.J. looks up, his assault on Thomas’ face stilling.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” He replies. Cody keeps pulling on him until P.J. reluctantly slides off Thomas’ middle and stands next to his friend. Cody physically puts himself between P.J. and Thomas’ prone form, putting his hands on his hips and glaring. “Cody, what are you doing?”
“Stopping you from doing something stupid,” Cody replies. P.J. shakes his head.
“Cody, leave, I’m taking care of things.”
“You are taking care of nothing!” Cody spits. “The very last thing I want you to do is beat him up.”
Alexander watches as P.J.’s face goes from anger, to disbelief, to confusion. “What?”
“I said, I don’t want you hurting Thomas,” Cody repeats. P.J. takes a step back, confused beyond belief. Before Alexander can say something like ‘I told you to stop,’ Thomas stirs. He mutters something, and Cody whips his head around. “What?” He asks.
“You… don’t want me to get hurt?” Thomas asks, trepidation in his voice. The man pushes himself onto his elbows, looking at Cody with wide eyes. Alexander can see the barely contained hope there. It makes his stomach churn, but this is about Cody, he knows. So he holds his tongue as Cody turns all the way around to face Thomas for the first time in months.
“No,” is Cody’s response, though it’s terse and cold. Thomas sucks in a breath. There’s blood trickling from his nose and Alexander can see where bruises are already starting to blossom.
“Why?” Thomas asks. It sounds like he’s on the verge of tears but that might just be the damage to his nose. “I fucking deserve it.”
“Yeah you do,” Cody grunts back. Thomas flinches. “But,” Cody says, “you’re also not worth it.” Thomas hesitates, the entire crowd is silent and not even Alexander knows what to say, but Cody isn’t done. “I only stopped P.J. because I don’t want my friends getting in trouble over you.”
Someone in the crowd lets out an ‘daaammmmn,’ and Thomas starts to sputter. Cody just watches, disinterest and disdain on his face. Thomas pushes himself to his knees. “I… Cody I’m so fucking sorry, please, I, god, don’t be mad at me please,” he begs. Alexander’s eyes go wide. Now this is something he never thought he’d see ever.
“I’m not mad,” Cody says simply. “I was, but not anymore.” Hope returns to Thomas’ eyes and he throws himself at Cody’s feet.
“I’m so sorry,” he says.
“I know,” Cody replies.
“Forgive me,” Thomas begs.
“Never.” Cody takes a step back, leaving Thomas grasping at the ground and reaching out for his ankles.
“Please!” Thomas calls. Cody just turns his back on the man. He looks at P.J. and Alexander, and lets a smile grace his face.
“Come on, let’s go get drinks, yeah?” He says, offering his hands to his friends. Alexander takes the one offered to him and P.J. does the same. Cody starts to lead them away from Thomas when-
“Cody, please, I-” Thomas chokes on his own words, “I’m so sorry, let me- I need your forgiveness, please, what can I do?”
Cody freezes. The hint of smile drops and he sighs. “You think you can earn my forgiveness?” He asks bitterly.
“Yes, please, I’ll do anything.”
Without turning around, Cody says: “The long story short, Thomas, is that you can’t earn my forgiveness. There is absolutely nothing you can do to get me to ever forgive you. But-” Cody cuts off another plea from Thomas, “-what you can do is get out of my life. I never want to see you ever again, do you understand me? Leave, Thomas. Move, get a new job, whatever. You’re smart enough for that, aren’t you?”
“Cody-”
“No, nothing you could ever do would be good enough.” Cody interrupts and Thomas finally falls silent. Without a goodbye, Cody leads Alexander and P.J. through the crowd, back to Alexander’s car, and slides into the passenger seat. The entire car is silent for a moment, then:
“Drinks on me, boys,” Cody says. “To opening night.”
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Thomas isn’t sure how he finds his way to a bar. But he does, a shitty, hole-in-the-wall place that doesn’t question how many shots he’s having as long as he keeps paying. So he keeps ordering more and more until he forgets how many he’s had and the entire world spins around him. He is so painfully aware of the memories swirling in bubbles around his face.
He just wants to forget.
Thomas, denied forgiveness, is nothing. So he keeps slapping down dollar bills on the counter, draining shot glasses and hoping that each one is enough for him to just let go. His phone on the counter buzzes, but his vision is swimming so much he can’t even see what time it is, let alone what the notification says.
He gets another drink, he thinks he’s crying but he can’t even trust the sensations his face is feeling anymore. He gets another, his hand shakes as he raises it to his lips. He gets another, half of it lands on his shirt. He gets another and another and another until-
Nothing.
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Cody doesn’t know what he’s doing here. Why he’s curled up in a hospital room chair, waiting for the man who made his life hell to wake up. Alexander is out in the hallway, James has gone to get himself food. P.J. keeps texting him, which keeps Cody grounded, even if he only replies once in a while.
He rubs at his eyes, he’s been up almost all night. They’d been at Alexander’s place, drinking beers and watching dumb tv, laughing. Alexander had almost ignored James’ text, and Cody knows that he had thought about not saying anything to the two of them. But said something he had, which is why Cody had dragged Alexander to the hospital.
Because Thomas had gone and done something stupid.
Which is, Cody supposes, the ultimate reason he’s here. Because Thomas had done something stupid and Cody needed to make sure he was okay. For some batshit reason, he had to make sure Thomas was okay. He chuckles bitterly into his knees, even now he can’t stop caring for the bastard.
“Cody?”
Cody looks up. Thomas’ tired, confused eyes look back at him. “Thomas,” he replies, voice hard like stone.
“What… where am I?” Thomas’ voice is hoarse, grating and Cody swallows. He remembers that feeling too well still.
“The hospital.”
“Why?”
“Because you almost drank yourself to death last night.” Cody knows he’s harsh, unforgiving, but that’s all he can be. He might care, but there’s not enough compassion in him for Thomas to sound like he does.
“What are you doing here?” He asks. Cody sighs.
“James texted Alexander, told us what you’d done. The hospital knew to call James because you have him listed as your emergency contact. They say you’re very lucky someone at that bar called an ambulance for you.” Or that you even woke up, Cody finishes in his head. Thomas blinks, coughs.
“But why you?” He asks.
“I told you. I don’t want you getting hurt. Even by your own hand,” Cody adds. Thomas turns his head, looks up at the ceiling.
“I didn’t mean to…” Thomas trails. Cody isn’t sure if he believes him, but he says okay anyway. Thomas clears his throat. “I’m-”
“Don’t.”
Thomas does anyway. “I’m sorry.” Cody grits his jaw and stands. He gathers his coat from the seat next to him.
“You’re going to be fine,” he mutters.
Cody makes it most of the way to the door before Thomas gets out one last “Cody.” The man sounds pathetic, absolutely miserable. His eyes are bloodshot, pleading. Cody shakes his head.
“I told you last night. No forgiveness. But you can get out of my life, for good.” Cody throws open the door and leaves.
Alexander is leaning against the wall, but he stands straight when Cody enters the hallway. “He’s awake. I want to go,” Cody mutters. Alexander nods, but pauses, looking at the door to Thomas’ room. Cody eyes him for a moment. “If you want to say something, I can wait,” he offers. Alexander hesitates, and then shakes his head.
“Fucking idiot,” he mumbles.
They run into James on the way out. The man nods when they tell him that Thomas woke up, relief flooding his face. Cody wonders how a man like Thomas has a friend like James.
Cody and Alexander walk out of the hospital, Cody glancing at his phone. He has nine hours until call time, and he really needs a fucking nap.
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Alexander learns from James that the day after Thomas was discharged from the hospital, he went home, packed his things, sold his house and left New York. Thomas went back to Virginia, that he’s living with one of his sisters. James says that Thomas told him to tell Alexander that he’s sorry, and that this is the last Alexander or Cody will ever hear from him.
When Alexander gets the news, he sits in his office chair, suddenly gutted. That’s it, he thinks. Thomas is gone. He’s almost in shock; he can’t quite comprehend what this means. He spends the rest of the day puzzling over why he suddenly feels so empty. He’s still angry with Thomas, sure, but he mostly just feels… incomplete.
He tells Cody that Thomas is gone, and Cody reacts only with a shrug. “For the better,” Cody says. Then he looks at Alexander, must see something on his roommate’s face because he asks: “What’s wrong?” And Alexander tells him, about how unfinished it all feels. Cody hums to himself.
“I think…” he bites his lip, “I think you spent so much time angry at Thomas, and now he’s gone and you can’t get resolution to that anger. There’s no closure.”
“Is that something Franklin told you?” Alexander asks. Cody chuckles.
“Maybe,” he replies. Alexander snorts, and then gets an idea. He pulls out his phone and opens his settings. Types in his password: 846627- Thomas- and changes it. 256187.
Closur.
It’s not spelled right, not enough characters to complete the word, but it’s close enough.
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~Four Years Later~
“Come on babe!” P.J. pulls Cody into the bar, excitement dancing across his face. Cody laughs, having to jog to keep up.
“Slow down, you giant. I got short legs!” He protests. P.J. sticks his tongue out at him, and pulls him up to the bar.
“It is every once in a blue moon the stage manager’s day off coincides with Benjamin Franklin's day off, my dear Cody. I wish to make the best of it.” P.J. throws himself on a barstool and orders, knowing both of their usual drinks off the top of his head. Cody slides into the seat next to him and leans his head on his shoulder.
“You know, we could ask for this more often,” Cody remarks. P.J. smiles, but rolls his eyes.
“Don’t think the boss man likes giving it to us, though. I think he’s afraid I’m going to break you or something.”
“I have an understudy, you have an assistant stage manager, what’s the big deal?” Cody mumbles into P.J.’s ear.
“I don’t think the national tour of 1776 has it in the budget for us to ‘break’ each other every week.”
Cody huffs, playfully swatting his boyfriend’s shoulder. “We don’t break each other.”
“Try convincing the producers of that,” P.J. teases. The bartender comes back with their drinks and P.J. takes a sip. “Yo, did you ever tell that therapist you got a role that shares his name?”
“Yeah,” Cody says, swallowing his first mouthful. “During my last appointment. He laughed his ass off and wished me luck.”
“Good guy.”
“Great psychiatrist,” Cody counters. He looks around the bar; it’s full of University of Richmond and UVA pennants, jerseys and other memorabilia. It’s a nice place, probably gets filled with students who don’t attend their school’s football games every weekend. But right now, on a Wednesday, there are just enough people here to create a sizable crowd.
“Yo,” P.J. says, putting his drink on the counter, “Gonna take a piss. Don’t wander off any hot guys.”
“What if I invite you with us?” Cody teases. P.J. chuckles.
“Now that, I might be able to get behind. As long as you let me help you pick him.”
“Don’t you trust me?” Cody asks, innocently. P.J. raises an eyebrow.
“The last time you picked a guy from a bar on your own, I ended up punching him in the dick months later.”
“Go pee, you heathen,” Cody says. P.J. gets up from the bar, laughing. Cody smiles into his cocktail and settles into the barstool he’s on. He sips his drink, letting his eyes wander the bar. People watching isn’t necessarily his favorite thing to do, but it passes the time. He’s watching a young couple talk over a basket of fries, making up their conversation in his head, when Cody spots him.
On the other side of the bar, face buried in his phone and sipping the last of a draft, is Thomas Jefferson.
Cody does a double take, not sure that it’s him at first. He’s gaunt, like he’s lost quite a bit of weight. His nose is so obviously broken too, but it’s him. His hair is a giant poof around his skull, like it always was.
Thomas looks up from his phone and Cody ducks his head. He doesn’t know if Thomas spotted him yet, but watches the other man from the corner of his eye. His fears subside as Thomas waves down the bartender and points to his drink. The bartender provides him the refill and Thomas goes back to scrolling, the light from his phone illuminating his face and reflecting off his eyes.
Cody tries to look away, but his eyes keep getting drawn to him. Despite the changes to his appearance, he’s still just as handsome as Cody remembers. Just like the day they first met, in a bar like this one. Thomas always had that sad look about him when he drank alone, and it still hovers around the man.
For a split second, Cody wonders what it would be like to walk over there. To tap the man on the shoulder and say hi. What would happen if he were to slide his drink on the bar and hop onto the stool next to him. What would they talk about? The game on tv? What they’re drinking? The past four years? Their past? Would Thomas shrink away from him or meet him face on. Would he dissolve into blubbering apologies again? Or would he do something, anything else?
What would Cody do? Talk amicably, like friends? Go cold again? Would he introduce himself like a stranger? Would that even clear the air? Does Cody even want to clear the air? What would he open with? “Hey there?” “Yo, remember when you abused me?” “How’s the weather?” “‘Sup, stranger?” The possibilities were endless, yet-
“I’m back, babe,” P.J. says, planting a kiss on Cody’s cheek. He slides onto the stool again and swigs his beer.
“I do hope you washed your hands,” Cody says, finally tearing his eyes away from the man in the corner. P.J. rolls his eyes.
“Because that affects what’s on my lips when I kiss you.”
“You don’t know!” Cody protests. P.J. laughs, and Cody remembers why he’s here. He drains his cocktail and puts the glass down. “Wanna get out of here?”
“Already?” P.J. cocks an eyebrow. Cody rolls his eyes.
“Not like that,” he drawls. “There’s a karaoke place down the street. I wanna destroy some drunk soccer moms.”
“Oh hell yeah,” P.J. says. He throws a couple of bills on the counter and leads Cody out of the bar.
Cody quickly forgets about Thomas for the rest of the night.