I hurry out of the lobby, glancing over my shoulder. I want to get as far away as I can as fast as I can. All thoughts of food have vanished from my mind, and so I just wander around the streets for a couple of hours before ducking into some bar I've passed once or twice already.

As I plop myself down on a stool, the bartender comes over. "What can I get ya, pal?"

His smile is sweet, and I can't help but smile back a little. I shrug. "Something strong."

He laughs and pours me some kind of booze. "On the rocks okay?"

"Sure, why not." He slides it to me, and I drink about half of it down in one gulp, which is rewarded by copious coughing.

"Easy," the bartender says, laughing. "You okay?"

"I will be after about four more of these."

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I'm slumped over the bar by the time I'm done, countless empty glasses in front of me. The bartender taps me on the shoulder.

"You drive here, son?"

I shake my head. "Walked."

"Let me call you a cab."

I nod and slide my credit card across the table. "Might as well pay my fab, too."

"Tab." He tries not to smirk and heads over to the cash register.

I'm pushed out the door when the cab arrives, and I mutter directions before leaning against the door and staring morosely out the window. Maybe things will be better tomorrow, I half-think, half-pray to myself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

My cell phone rings as soon as I get into my room. I pull it out of my pocket and fumble around with it a moment before finally answering. "Hullo?"

"Hi, Tony."

"Caro! It's you!" I grin. "How are you? I miss you. You miss me?"

"Tony, are you drunk?" Caro's voice doesn't sound quite so friendly as I feel.

"What? No!" I snicker. "Wait... maybe. Um... yes."

"Anthony." She sighs. "Why have you been drinking?"

"'Cuz I needed it."

"Why's that?"

"Spot Conlon," I mumble, falling back onto the bed.

"Who?" Caroline sounds thoroughly displeased.

"Nevermind."

"Well, I'm sure your friends will appreciate you coming to their wedding hung over."

"Won't be hung over." I curl up with my head on my pillow.

"Sure, you won't." I can actually hear her rolling her eyes. "Look, I just called to say goodnight. I'm going to bed. I suggest you do the same."

"Already there," I say, pulling my wallet out of my back pocket and tossing it on the nightstand.

"I love you, Tony, even if you're completely plastered."

I snicker. "I love you, too."

"Goodnight." She hangs up, and I turn my phone off and set it next to my wallet.

I close my eyes, just for a second. Just to rest them. For a second.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I wake up and look at the clock, whose cheery, old-fashioned face tells me it's quarter to one. In the afternoon. Panicking, I scramble out of bed and end up in a tangle of legs and blankets on the floor.

"Fuck," I mutter, sighing and leaning my head back against the bed.

My head is screaming by the time I get myself untangled and into the bathroom to shower. The shower helps a little bit, but I've still got a hangover from the depths of hell.

I pop a couple ibuprofen and shave, then comb my hair and get dressed. I look at myself in the mirror. Dark hair, dark eyes, crooked smile, suit and tie. I look like the kid I did in high school, but I'm nowhere near him anymore.

I wonder if anyone else will see that.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

There's a small group of people gathered outside the Visberg Art Gallery when I arrive, and they're all in black-tie, so I assume they're here for the same reason I am.

I walk up toward the door, and they all look at me. There's that weird first glance and then a double-take, upon which they all stare. I smile and nod at them, and they continue staring.

I can hear the whispers from several feet away.

"Is that..."

"It couldn't be."

"Why would he..."

"It is!" And on that, a tall man with dark hair and brown eyes breaks away from the crowd and runs over to me, throwing his arms around me. "RACETRACK! What the fuck are you doin' here?"

I laugh. "Hey, Jack." I hug him back and pull away. "I, uh... well, Specs and Dutchy sent me an invitation."

"We all figured you'd died some horrible death or somethin', disappearing the way you did."

I shake my head. "Nope. But I caved and got married and now I'm a teacher." I grin. "Ten points if you can guess where."

Jack laughs. "No way! They let you back into Pulitzer's?" I nod and he grins. "What do you teach?"

"Drama."

"Medda gave up her class? She didn't croak or nothin', did she?"

I laugh. "No. Just retired. In fact, she's actually substituting for my class while I'm gone."

"Wow. Hey, guys!" Jack waves to the group of men still standing and staring. "It's Race, and he's not a zombie!" I chuckle again and smile as my old friends from high school come over to greet me.

After several minutes of hugs and punches and answering questions as to where I've been for the past ten years, a woman I recognize as Specs's mom pokes her head out the door. "We're about to start," she says with a smile.

We all file in and take our seats. When I sit down, I notice Spot is directly across the aisle from me, and he goes back and forth from glaring at me and pretending he doesn't realize I'm there.

Specs and Dutchy come out and the ceremony begins, and for a few minutes, I forget all about Spot Conlon.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

"That was really nice, Dutchy." I smile at him and at Specs when he walks up. "I can't believe you guys are still together. I would've expected you to kill one another by now."

"Oh, believe me, I've been tempted," Specs says with a sly grin, handing Dutchy a glass of champagne. Suddenly, the two of them pull me into a big hug. "Thanks for coming, Race."

I laugh as they pull away. "You know, I was kind of apprehensive about coming at first but now I realize I wouldn't have missed it for the world."

Dutchy spots his parents and heads over to talk to him, and Specs just stands and looks at me.

"What? Do I have something on my face?"

"Have you seen Spot yet?" He sips his champagne.

"Um... yeah. Actually, I ran into him at the hotel. Like, literally ran into him."

"And?"

I shrug. "Well, he wasn't happy, and he certainly wasn't friendly."

Specs nods. That's the thing about Specs. You rarely have to explain things to him – it's like he just knows. "You should talk to him."

"I can't talk to him. I've got nothing to say."

"Tell him you're sorry."

I scratch my head. "Tell him I'm sorry?"

"Well, you are, aren't you?"

"Um. Yeah."

"So tell him."

I set down my champagne glass. "Alright, Specs." I shake my head and pat his shoulder. "Whatever you say. But as for now, I have to excuse myself."

He laughs and nods and I head off.

As I'm washing my hands in the bathroom, I look up into the mirror and see Spot walking up behind me. He recognizes me and sighs, washing his hands quickly and heading for the door.

"Spot."

He stops in his tracks and doesn't turn around.

"Spot."

"What, Race?"

I sigh, drying off my hands. "Look, um, I know it probably doesn't mean much to you now, not after this long and especially not after the shit I said to you. But... I'm sorry."

Spot turns around and looks at me. Just looks at me. Then he nods. "Okay."

I blink. "Okay?"

He shrugs. "That's all I wanted to hear from you. So... okay." And he actually smiles at me a little bit.

"Wow. I was expecting you to punch my in the face or tell me to fuck off or do something equally Spot Conlon-esque."

Spot laughs a little bit. "I grew up, I guess." He looks at his watch. "Well, it's getting kind of late. I should get back to the hotel."

"You want a ride?"

"Um..."

"I won't kill you, if you won't kill me."

He smiles. "Hell. Why not."

We go and say goodbye to everyone, and I am told several times over to keep in touch. Spot and I walk out to my car, and then are on our way to the hotel.

About halfway there, Spot looks over from the passenger seat. "You're married?"

I nod. "Ten, going on eleven years."

"So, what, you went straight from graduation to the wedding chapel?"

Laughing, I shrug. "Pretty much. Caroline and I got hitched, oh... maybe a month after graduation?"

"You're married to Caroline McCourt."

"I am indeed."

Spot nods and looks out the window. "Never would have expected that from you, Race." He leans back against the headrest, sighing. "What about kids, you got a mini-Racetrack runnin' around yet?"

I smile. "Two of 'em. Boy and a girl, six and two."

"A married man and a breeder to boot. Well, congratulations, Race, I think you've succeeded in being the only heterosexual male ever to graduate from Pulitzer's."

Laughing, I pull into the hotel parking lot. "Do I win a prize?"

He laughs and we get out of the car. "Just my sheer amazement." Spot shakes his head and we walk to the elevator. "So, what is it you do for a living these days?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"You're a male prostitute, aren't you?"

"Close." I laugh. "Teacher. At Pulitzer's."

"You're shitting me."

"I shit you not, my friend. Medda retired and I took her position as drama teacher."

Spot laughs out loud. "Good lord, Higgins. You are just full of surprises."

"So, what about you?" I press the button for my floor.

"Oh, no. We'll talk about me later." He grins at me mischievously. "Gives you a reason to keep in touch, doesn't it?"

"Man, you people got conniving over the years." I roll my eyes and step off the elevator when the doors open. "This your floor, too?"

"Yeah. I'm, uh, down the hall and around the corner, way the hell down that way." He points to his left.

"I'm just right here." I nod to the door across the hall. "So, um, when are you taking off for home?"

"Don't leave 'til Monday."

"Me either."

He nods. "Well, maybe I'll see you again this weekend, then."

"Yeah, maybe."

"Okay, well, goodnight, Race."

"Goodnight, Spot." He turns and I watch him walk away, strolling down the hallway in his black and white tuxedo. I feel something in me as I watch him turn the corner, and something tells me it isn't just a pang of regret for not having kept up our friendship.

I sigh and go into my room to undress and curl up in bed.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I open up my eyes several hours later to a dark room and a loud, relentless pounding on the door. Throwing myself out of bed, I turn on the bedside lamp, pull up my pajama pants and shuffle to the door. I can't see much out of the peephole, so I call through the door, "Who's there?"

"Spot," a voice replies.

I unlock the door and pull it open. "Spot, it's like, three in the morning, what are you--"

Before I can finish my sentence, Spot flies in and slams the door behind him, and he's on me, his hands in my hair and his lips on mine. I stand, completely baffled, until he grabs me by the hips and drives me through the room to the bed. As he pushes me down, I look up at him, wide-eyed.

"Spot, I..."

"Shut up, Race," he says, unbuttoning his shirt and casting it aside.

"No, Spot, I'm straight, I'm married... I... I don't do stuff like this."

He climbs on top of me and pushes my shoulders down to the mattress. "Seriously, Race, shut the hell up."

Spot lays down on top of me and starts kissing me again. I feel his chest on mine, his skin touching me, and my important part jumps to attention, which causes Spot to grin triumphantly against my lips. His hands start to wander and the weird thing is, I don't want to stop him. I know I should push him off of me, throw him out of my room, take a boiling hot shower and go home to my wife, but I just don't want to.

He kisses down my neck, nipping and tugging here and there and before I know it, he's tugged my pants off and tossed them to the floor. My hands take on a mind of their own and are unbuttoning his jeans, pushing them down his hips, and he's laughing. He tugs my boxers off and looks me in the eye.

"You ready, Race?"

More so than I ever thought I would be. I nod and lay back, bracing myself.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

I wake up in the morning, naked, sweaty, and groggy. Blinking, I rub my eyes and sigh.

What a bizarre dream.

I feel Caroline's arms around me, holding me close and warm. I turn over, prepared to curl into her and go back to sleep, but when I look, it's not her face I see.

It's Spot's.

He opens his eyes and smiles sleepily at me.

"Morning, Race."