“You don’t think it’ll get broken into, do you?” Mel asked worriedly.

“What are they going to steal? The Iron Beard records in your backseat?” Desmond laughed.

I frowned. Mel glanced at me and laughed awkwardly.

“Let’s just walk, okay?” she said.

I shrugged.

We made our way to Desmond’s place. It felt really weird. I was walking behind Mel and Desmond while they took up all the space on the sidewalk. I didn’t like Desmond, and I didn’t like how he was walking with Mel, and I didn’t like how I was only an afterthought. We walked for about fifteen minutes until we made it to some big white house, which was pretty close to the South End.

“Here it is!” Desmond said proudly. His place was huge. It had giant bushes that engulfed the gates, and a path that led to the front door of his three-storey home.

“My parents are asleep, but the walls are thick. We can all chill in my basement. Right this way.” Desmond opened the gate to the pathway, and we followed.

Desmond’s house was even more massive inside. He had mentioned that his dad was a banker and his mom invested in stocks and created apps.

“All right everyone, shut your trap until we get to the basement,” Desmond whispered. “And yes, Derrick. You can smoke in the basement.”

Derrick grunted. Desmond seemed like a real estate agent as he showed us his marble floors, flat-screen TV in the living room, and a china cabinet in the kitchen. This guy had it all. I felt overwhelmed with jealousy because I never had anything like this, but there I was just viewing it all like a tourist.

“Down this way.” Desmond opened a door to a set of stairs and we all followed him down.

His basement had hardwood floors, a pool table in the middle, and leather La-Z-Boy chairs for all of us to sit on. As we got situated, he opened up a mini fridge and offered all of us beer. Mel and I both declined. For me, it was because underage drinking PSAs were burned into my brain. For her, it was because she had to drive home later. Desmond shrugged, popped open a bottle, and started drinking away. His of-age friends accepted a couple of drinks and sat back.

“Why don’t you ever bring more of your friends from the bar over?” Mel asked.

“Ha, because most of them are in their thirties.”

“Derrick is twenty-seven,” Steph pointed out.

“He’s got three more years until his midlife crisis. Until then, he’s good.”

“Ageist asshole,” Steph growled then drank.

Derrick grunted as he lit a cigarette.

“Tell me about you, Adrian.” Desmond switched gears. “Did you get liposuction or something? This kid lost like half his body weight.”

“That’s impressive,” Steph said. “You don’t talk much, do you?”

I looked over to Mel, and she gave me a nod. “I don’t think he wants to talk about that,” she said.