Page 14 of Seein’ Red

“You got something better?” he shoots back at me.

“‘Black Betty.’ ’Nuf said.”

Noel silently shakes his head. “‘Bad Blood.’”

All three of us stop, Camden’s hot dog halfway to his mouth. I hear the record screech in my head, and I would bet good money Dustin and Camden did as well.

“As in Taylor’s song, ‘Bad Blood’?”

Nice casual name drop of Taylor Swift there, rock star…

“It’s a banger.”

It’s a banger. That’s the only explanation my twin offers up, leaving us still just as mystified. I’ve always been the outgoing one of the two of us, Noel choosing to play everything close to the chest, carefully choosing his words at all times. But this…this is a new level. Even for him.

“Because you listen to so much Taylor Swift,” I offer.

“Bronwyn’s a big fan.” He lifts one shoulder, as if that’s all the explanation needed.

Which…it is.

He fell hard for Bronwyn the second that cute Yankee strolled into town. Actually, no. He was ass over tea kettle before they even hit the town line, having picked her up from the airport when she first arrived.

It was fun to watch, since even as his twin I wasn’t convinced that there was ever going to be a woman who could steal his attention from the family businesses of Keller Nursery and Keller Landscaping. I was thrilled to be proven wrong, though, and love having Bronwyn as part of our family.

The only problem with him finding his forever is it made me the odd one out. The only single guy left in the group. Which is fine. To be expected really. It’s penance. For being the world’s biggest dumbass.

The rest of the game flies by, our conversation ebbing and flowing with the game, laughing and joking as we go. It feels good to let go—to have a day to relax and hang with the guys. It almost feels like we’re those seven-year-old kids again, this time without chaperones. And the ability to drink.

We wait for the crowd to disperse, not only enjoying our prime seating, but not wanting to cause too much of a scene as we exit. We’re not going far—our next stop being a whole fifty feet away from the stadium.

The beauty of The Battery—the area around the Braves stadium on the north side of the city—is that everything is right here. Bars, restaurants, shops, even the hotel. It made planning this weekend easy. Especially once we discovered our next destination.

“What is this place?” Camden asks, eyes wide, head whipping around as he takes it all in.

“Think combination sports bar and game room,” Noel answers. “There’s bowling, ping-pong, pool, foosball, darts, bocce, and most importantly…”

“Board games,” he and Dustin say in unison.

“I called ahead,” I tell them. “And told them we have dibs on Clue. Figured it only made sense.”

Dustin bursts into laughter, throwing his head back. I smile, knowing that we nailed it. Board games have been our thing since junior high. How it started is up for debate, but it continues to this day, the four of us regularly hosting guys’ night, telling the girls we’re watching “the game,” when really we’re playing one. Someday we might need to fess up to that fib, but tonight’s not that night.

“You found a board game bar?” he asks through his laughter.

“We did,” Noel confirms.

I nod, feeling pretty proud of ourselves. I couldn’t think of a better way to celebrate our best friend, and the fact that such a place exists was icing on the cake.

The hostess seats us, putting us at a table far enough away from the main crowd, with our own private bowling lane. I can see her eyeing Dustin, trying to figure out if it’s really him, but she’s too shy to ask. None of us bother to offer it up either.

Our waiter doesn’t seem to notice though, barely looking up as he takes our order for drinks and appetizers. We give Dustin shit about that though, not letting his celebrity go to his head.

Halfway through our second round of drinks, the food we ordered polished off, I grab a bowling ball off the rack. I can’t remember the last time I did this, the closest bowling alley back home being forty minutes away in Tifton. At least I know that the others will be just as rusty as I am.

Or well, I hope they are.

I give it a go, the ball making a beeline for the far left side of the lane. Straight into the gutter.