John didn't drink much; tonight was the first time he was drinking legally and he had only seldom joined his mates on their weekend binges so his glass contained more soda than brandy. Wendy was partial to vodka and the barman suggested some blueberry flavoured vodka, just on its own. It tasted so good as she savoured the richness of the liquor on her tongue and felt it trickle creamily down her throat.The events of earlier faded into the background as they relaxed into general conversation: how his studies were coming on, the state of the drive after her car shed it's oil, his latest computer games, her email friend in Australia ... But by unspoken agreement they didn't discuss his father or the business. They had always been comfortable talking to each other, even maintaining 'contact' during his adolescent rebellious spell. Maybe because they saw so little of his father, they had been thrown together more.The Maitre d' Hotel took their order. The Chef had some tender asparagus,. The cup fell from his hand. His stomach lurched and dropped like a roller coaster. The silly smile on this face vanished as he felt his throat go dry. The breath left his lungs and his chest felt suddenly tight. His face got hot and shivery tingles shot up to his scalp. And he felt himself stir inside his jeans. He could feel his heart beating all the way up to his temples. For a split-second, he was sure he was either hallucinating from being drunk or that he was still asleep and dreaming. But as his eyes focused and his breath stayed trapped inside his lungs, he knew neither of those hopeful possibilities were real. Out in the yard, not more than twenty feet away, were three people he recognized instantly, his two buddies, Rob and Jeff, and his long-time friend and beautiful prom date, Rachel. But it wasn’t the ‘who’ so much as the ‘what’ that was making Kevin’s stomach twist painfully like a python. Jeff was standing by himself, his body turned slightly away from the house..
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