Contrary to how much Zellman liked bowling, he was horrible at it. Cross and Jordan were tied. I was behind them, but a good distance better than Zellman’s score. He was really, really bad. But after the first few throws, Zellman headed back out to the vehicle. He came in with beverages, handing them to each of us. The initial plan had been that only Jordan would drink. It was his night. We’d watch over him, but spend our time bowling and having fun. Even through the griping, Zellman was having a great time, so Cross said he’d be sober cab and the rest of us could indulge.

So we did. I hadn’t intended to drink, but changed my mind.

After our second game, most people had left. Trundle came over and he started to bowl with us. When Zellman sniffed his drink, Trundle winked at him. “Don’t tell the boss.”

Jordan scowled at him. “You’re not driving, are you? That shit’s not funny.”

His head came up, the wink gone. “Uh, no. I’m not bad, but Brock’ll give me a ride.”

Brock. We were back to him.

We’d forgotten about him.

Jordan was the one who looked. “He’s gone.”

Trundle said, “He’s in the back. He stays while most of the customers are here, in case anything pops off, but you guys are the last ones left, so he headed back in. He does paperwork.”

Cross asked, “Does he work every night?”

“Most, but Gramps covers some of the other nights. Bonbon used to be in charge of the evening shifts, since she’s too nuts for the day stuff and all. She took off, though, so Brock’s been covering for her.”

Zellman grunted. “Guy’s a workaholic.”

“Well, he’s the owner.”

“Wait. What?” From me.

Trundle nodded at me, picking up his ball. We all had one last turn to go, and he stepped toward the lane. “Yeah. He’s the owner.”

“I thought Gramps and Bonnie owned it all?”

He shook his head, coming back after his turn. He hit four, then got the rest of his pins. “Nah. I mean, Hawk said something how they used to be the owners. Brock took over a few years back.”

“Does he have a hard-on for Bren or something?” Jordan was looking behind us.

Brock had come back out, heading for us. He stopped, his hand raised. “Finish up! It’s time to go.”

I stood for my last turn, and yeah, I was buzzed. Nicely buzzed.

I grinned at Cross, who saw my look and instantly started laughing. “Bren’s drunk.”

Zellman and Jordan shared a look.

Zellman thrust a fist in the air. “Yes.” He turned to Trundle. “Bren never drinks.”

“It’s because it’s Halloween and I’m pretending to be a college student.”