By the time the club closed and I found myself being ushered out to the sidewalk, our original group of eight was down to six. 

Mattie had called himself a cab earlier in the night after vomiting into his drink, and Andy had quietly disappeared with him. Andy claimed he was leaving to make sure Mattie got home safely but I had a feeling that the real reason why he was so eager to get back to campus was because he wanted to meet up with the girl he'd exchanged phone numbers with at our last party. From what I could remember about her, I didn't blame him.

"So, where to next?" Carlos asked cheerfully as he rubbed his palms together.

I groaned into the torn poster that I was leaning against, struggling to bring him into focus. "You're joking."

"What? The night's still young."

"What time is it, anyway?" Parker asked. Although he seemed to be in much better shape than I was, the evening had definitely taken its toll on him as well. He swayed while he stood pawing at his phone's lock screen and the motion reminded me of a palm tree buckling in the wind. 

"One," Lucas replied.

I groaned again. This time, I also spat a thick wad of saliva onto the ground. "I'm done. I'm going home."

"Aw, come on, Scott," Carlos said, grabbing me by the shoulders and giving me a gentle shake. He let go when I started to gag. "Stop being a wuss. It's your birthday."

"No it's not," I grumbled. "It's past midnight. Not my birthday anymore."

"Jennings, talk some sense into the man."

Parker glanced at him before raising a shoulder. "I mean, I'm not opposed to heading back to the house."

Good man, Jennings, I thought, flashing him a thumbs up.

"You guys suck." Carlos turned to Corey and Phil. "How about you two? Lucas? You in?"

To absolutely no one's surprise, Lucas was the first to nod, though Corey and Phil quickly followed suit. "There's no point," Parker said. He pocketed his phone. "Last call is in thirty minutes. We won't get in anywhere."

"Why'd we go to a club that closes so early?" Carlos asked, and my stomach churned when I saw Parker visibly stiffen.

"I'm sorry," he said coolly. "I'll be sure to tell Sophie that you didn't approve of her venue choice. Alright?"

Carlos cringed, his expression turning sheepish. "I didn't mean it like that."

Parker pushed himself off the wall that he'd been using for support. "How did you mean it?"

"I know a place," Lucas piped up, and, grateful for the escape route, Carlos spun to study him.

"Where?"

"It's a block from here." Lucas hesitated. "It's... Not the nicest bar--kind of a dive--but they always take my I.D."

"There's no way they'll let me in," I said. Another glob of my saliva hit the pavement. "No way. I'm wrecked."

"They let everyone in," Lucas offered. "Honestly, you're not even that bad compared to some of the people I've seen there."

Parker snorted. "We need to have a talk about the kinds of places you hang out in."

Ignoring Parker's comment, Phil clapped me on the shoulder and said, "Come on, Scotty. At least give it a try, huh? And, if you don't get in, you'll get to go home anyway. No harm, no foul."

"Exactly." Carlos wiggled his eyebrows at me. "So, are you coming?"

"Do I have to?" I asked, but even as the words left my mouth, I'd already begun to follow him down the street.

"Scott, we can go home, you know," Parker said as he fell in step beside me. "I'm tired, too."

"I know."

But even though two taxis passed us on our one block journey, I didn't raise my arm to hail one and neither did Parker. Something told me that I'd regret my decision to stay out but I'd never been very good at saying no. Sometimes it really was easier to just go along with what everyone else wanted.

After turning down a dimly lit alleyway, Lucas motioned towards the door farthest away from the main street. I glanced over my shoulder as I stumbled over bags of garbage in my attempt to keep up with the others. In more ways than one, it felt like the set-up to a bad horror flick.

With my own wallet securely in hand, I watched as my friends lined up and flashed their driver's licenses to the bouncer standing outside the entrance of The Commuter. Lucas hadn't been kidding when he'd called it a dive--hell, he'd been giving it a compliment. Most of the lights in the sign that hung above the door had burnt out and those that remained spelled T-H-C-M-U-T-E. The tinny sound of music playing through bad speakers filtered out into the night air, and although smoking in bars had been illegal in California for years, a thick haze of cigarette smoke seemed to seep out from the cracks in the building's fascia.

I must have made a face because Corey started to laugh. "I'm sure it can't be as bad as it looks," he said. We were the last two to reach the front and as I handed my I.D. to the bouncer, I was surprised to see the dislike in his eyes, and even more stunned by the fact he waved me through. 

Pocketing my I.D., I started for the door but then stopped when I heard the bouncer say, "Fake."

"Excuse me?" Corey sounded genuinely confused by the man's claim. 

"Your I.D.," the bouncer said. "It's fake."

"No, it's not," Corey protested, and I walked back to where he stood.

"What's wrong?" I asked. Corey shook his head.

"He keeps saying my I.D. is fake."

"Seriously?" I studied the bouncer for a moment while I tried to compose myself. "Hey, man, he's out with me for my birthday, you know? I promise he's over twenty-one."

The bouncer grunted. "Happy birthday, but that doesn't change the fact he needs a valid I.D. to get in."

"It is valid," Corey exclaimed, pointing at the expiration date printed below the picture on his license. "See? I got this thing renewed last month. I'm twenty-two, just like half of the other guys you let in three minutes ago."

"Listen," the bouncer said to me, "you can come in or you can leave with your friend but you need to make a decision because I can't have you loitering here."

I wanted to laugh at him, and maybe a small chuckle even managed to escape. The man's cold eyes narrowed into slits. "I'm sorry," I said. "But how can you justify turning this kid away when you take fakes all the time?"

"That's not true," the bouncer began, and this time I did laugh.

I knew my bravado stemmed from the liquor coursing through my veins but that didn't stop me from drawing myself up to the full extent of my unimpressive height. "Dude, half our football team comes here, okay?" I lied. "I know you take any I.D. that gets handed to you, so why are you pretending to be such a hard ass?"

"What was that?"

"No, really," I continued, preparing myself for the inevitable moment when he hoisted me over his shoulder and threw me back down the alleyway. "You're on a major power trip."

"You know, if you keep talking, I might not let you in either."

"What'd I do?"

"You're pissing me off, that's what."

Realizing that the approach I'd taken wasn't working, I switched gears. "Come on, man, it's my birthday, remember? I'm just trying to meet up with the rest of my friends and have one last drink before we call it a night."

"Then cool it and go in."

"I'm not going to leave Corey here."

"Well, maybe he can find a brother to help him out with his I.D. problem, but until then, he's out of luck."

Corey breathed in so sharply that I wondered how there could possibly be any air left within a five-block radius. Maybe I really was too drunk, or maybe I'd misunderstood him, but the bouncer's comment left me feeling unsettled. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up like lightning rods.

"What--"

"Forget it, Scott," Corey said quietly, and when I looked at him, I knew that I'd never forget the hurt etched into his face. "Just go in."

"Huh? I'm not leaving you out here."

"It's okay, I'll find a cab."

"No, he's got to let you in--"

"Look," Corey said, his voice barely above a whisper, "it doesn't matter what you say because he doesn't care about my I.D. He's not going to let me in because I'm black."

"What?"

"I don't want any trouble," the bouncer said, cutting off Corey's response. The muscles in his arms seemed to dance against the fabric of his shirt as he spoke. He and Corey stood locked in a staring match that neither seemed willing to lose.

While I was debating what to do next, Parker emerged through the bar's front door wearing a puzzled expression. He looked between the bouncer and I. "What's going on?"

"Corey can't get in," I said, motioning at the security guard. "He's saying his I.D. is fake."

"Seriously? Why?"

"I said I don't want any trouble." If possible, the bouncer sounded even meaner when he said it this time, and as if to prove that he meant it, he pulled his walkie-talkie from the clip on his waistband. Even without knowing all the details of the situation, I watched as Parker's internal switch flipped.

It was one of his more impressive traits, and one I'm not sure he even realized that he had. In a similar vein to Clark Kent becoming Superman, Parker had a knack for knowing exactly what he needed to do in order to save the day. It was probably surprising to those who didn't know him well; after all, on a daily basis, you'd be hard pressed to find anyone more passive than Parker. Frankly, I'd long assumed that his quiet demeanor was what allowed him to give off an air of calm even when the world around him was falling apart. Occasionally, however--and more frequently in the last few years--I got the impression that it was all an act, and beneath Parker's calm surface was a rapidly circling shark just waiting to surface. Maybe Parker was the real chameleon in my cast of family and friends.

With his presidential persona fully activated, Parker eyed the bouncer before coughing into his fist. "Look, I'm sorry if there's been a misunderstanding here, but if you'd like to scan all of our I.D.s, you'll see that they've been telling the truth. We're all over twenty-one."

The man sneered. "What, are you saying that I made a mistake when I looked at your license the first time?"

"No, of course not," Parker replied, sidestepping the bait that the bouncer had set out for him. "But, I saw that you have a scanner next to the bar. It'd clear up any questions, right?"

"How many times do I have to explain this to you guys? I'm not going to scan his I.D., so you two can either go inside, or I can call the police and have them pick you up for a drunk and disorderly."

"Disorderly?" Parker repeated. "Who's disorderly?"

"You need to calm down, kid."

Parker held his hands up in surrender. "I am calm. See? I'm calm. Okay?"

"Like I've been saying, we don't want any problems here tonight. I really don't want to have to call the cops."

The bouncer stared at Corey as he spoke, and I saw a lightbulb go on in Parker's head. As he continued connecting the dots, a frightening darkness settled over his features. The levelness in his voice was chilling. "I think you already have a problem."

While I could count the number of times that I'd seen Parker lose his temper on two or three hands, I didn't even need five fingers to tick off the occasions when I'd watched his mood descend into genuine rage. It was more than rare, it was almost mythical. Mythical, and a little scary--just like opening Pandora's Box.

Having figured out what was going on without Corey filling him in, Parker turned to me, and in the dim lighting, his normally light eyes shone inky black. "I'll see you at home, guys."

I stared at him. Perhaps I'd overestimated his diplomacy skills because no matter how I looked at it, his apparent plan to take on this bouncer wasn't heroic. It was suicide. "Aren't you coming?" I asked, but Parker shook his head.

"Come on, man," Corey said, and I could hear the urgency in his voice. "It's not worth it."

Parker glanced over his shoulder to watch the man muttering into his walkie-talkie. He shrugged. "Yeah, it is."

I started to argue with him but Parker cut me off. "Look, I'm not stupid, but people like that..." He seemed to struggle to get the rest of his sentence out. "I'll be fine, but just in case, go home."

"But--"

"Go home, Scott. I'll see you later."

It wasn't a suggestion so much as an order, and before I could say anything in reply, Corey had already steered me halfway to the main street. "Shouldn't we stay with him?" I asked, but Corey shook his head.

"Hell no," he muttered, and that was the last thing he said before waving down a cab and shoving me into its backseat.

I felt like I was leaving Parker to take on a pack of rabid wolves, though that concern faded as I buckled my seatbelt and resisted the urge to vomit. Corey sat with his body pressed firmly against the car door and he kept his gaze trained resolutely on the passing cityscape. For a moment, I thought about cracking a joke to lighten the mood, but when I heard the gentle sound of his sniffling over the taxi's heater, I stared down at my lap instead. I knew that no matter how uncomfortable I may have been, Corey undoubtedly felt a million times worse than I could ever imagine. 

I knew we should've gone home.

I let the back of my head fall against the tattered headrest and sighed as the rocking motion of the car sent my stomach into fits. Swallowing hard, I rolled down my window to get some fresh air. I was only able to fill my lungs with a few deep breaths before the driver glanced over his shoulder and asked me to close the window again. I thought about protesting but decided to let it go; I was too tired to argue. 

When we arrived at the house ten minutes later, Corey handed the cabbie a twenty and then jumped out without bothering to take his change. I followed closely after him, confused when he started walking down the street rather than going inside.

"Do you want to go to Taco Stop?" I asked, referring to the twenty-four-hour grease pit where packs of L.A.U. students could always be found satisfying their drunken cravings. "I'll buy."

"I'm alright," Corey replied without looking at me. I watched him quickly lift a hand to his face before stuffing his fists into his pockets. "See you tomorrow."

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere."

As the distance between where Corey and I stood increased, I heard my voice grow louder. "Do you want me to come with you?"

"No."

"You sure? I mean, you know, you seem... You seem upset, so--"

Corey spun to face me and I recoiled from the horrible expression he wore, grateful that I wasn't seeing it up close. He began to clap in a slow, mocking way. When he stopped, he laughed, though it rang through the air like a bark. "You really don't understand anything at all, do you?" 

When I didn't say anything, he pointed at me and then at the front door of our house. "That's what I thought, so go inside your bubble and leave me the hell alone."

If I seemed surprised by his reaction, he looked positively stricken by what he'd said. He shook his head as he backed away. 

"Man, forget it," he said, and I watched while he turned around, disappearing into the early morning darkness. 

When he was gone, I looked up at the sky and sighed. So much for a happy birthday. 

---------------

A/N: Happy Iowa Caucus Day! Sorry for the delay; I've been busy applying to jobs and sobbing into my vast pool of unemployment. :) But, anyway, thank you for reading and voting! I appreciate the support and feedback. I'll try to update again by Friday but that really depends on how busy this week gets. Sorry for any typos - if you point them out, I'll try to fix them soon!