“My dad made me. I thought it was gonna suck, but Tank, it’s the best gig ever. I can steal anything. I’ve been selling beer to guys like Tony Banks, Mike Foreman, and Victor Hodge for ten bucks a case.” I yank out four crumpled ten-dollar bills from my front pocket and hand him two of them. “Dude, I’m known throughout the neighborhood as the Bootlegger of Blaine, and you can be a silent partner if you want. All you have to do is recruit some of your wrestling buddies as buyers. We’ll split everything fifty-fifty.”

“Hell, yes!” Tank puts his face in his hands and spins around three times. “My God, I love you, Zach Ramsey. This is incredible. It’s the ultimate hookup.” He walks over to the couch and plops down. “Get over here with that.” He shuts off the TV.

I sit down on the recliner and twist the cap off the bottle. “But no more stupid stuff, okay?”

“Hey, you think I want to spend more time in solitary confinement?”

“Look, I have to work at three.” I offer him the bottle. “Want some?”

“Yeah.” He snags the pint and raises it to his lips, takes a swallow, and exhales deeply. “Man, that’s good.” He passes it to me. I take a sip. It tastes horrible so early in the morning, but I pretend to like it.

Then I decide to get down to business.

“I’ve been hearing some things in the party store.” I hand him the bottle.

“Like what?” He takes a sip, gives it back to me.

“You’re a big-time jock. You ever hear anything about Blaine coaches giving athletes steroids?” I take a big swig of JD, more to calm my nerves than anything.

“No,” he says quickly, shaking his head and maintaining eye contact with me. “Who said that?”

“I overheard a couple of plant workers one night.”

“Zach, those are Blaine factory rats. They make up shit out of sheer boredom.”

“I guess.” We stare at each other for a few uncomfortable moments. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I just thought I’d tell you since we both play sports.” I hand him the bottle.

He drinks and says, “You know I’ve always been a great wrestler. Dude, you should see the juniors and seniors at camp. They’re all afraid of me. Why? Because of my reputation and my talent, that’s why. I don’t have to cheat, and, if it makes you feel any better, if the opportunity ever comes my way, I won’t cheat. I promise.” He passes me the bottle. “But thanks for the warning. Seriously.”

“Like I said, just something I heard.”