Free The Death Agreement by Kristopher Mallory Page A

become a rare commodity. It's amazing I
hadn't developed hypnophobia, or whatever it's called when you're
afraid to close your eyes.
    Tired or not, it made no
difference. I couldn't allow myself to fall asleep. One last item
remained on my list of things I needed to do—a game of
Wishes.
    Instead of heading toward the
comfort of my pillow, I went into the kitchenette and reached for
the cabinet above the refrigerator. When the door swung open, I
expected to find a wide variety of high-proof spirits, but instead
I found the space nearly empty.
    "Damn."
    Taylor and I had decimated the
collection, and I had never made it back to the Class 6. I had
hoped to find a half-full bottle of Jameson, at least. St.
Patrick's Day was only a day away, and it would have been perfect
for the occasion. Then I recalled a vague memory of finishing that
off weeks ago, back when I had first heard that Taylor had
died.
    I considered the available
options, none were as appetizing as whiskey, however. The choice
was between a bottle of cheap vodka and a bottle of cheap tequila.
Both contained less than a swallow each. Those wouldn't do at
all.
    I pushed them aside, reached back
into the shadows, and my fingers gripped the glass neck of something near the
corner. I pulled it into the light.
    "Ha!" I smiled at the uncovered
hidden gem, an unopened bottle of Disaronno. "Classy."
    I grabbed several shot glasses
from the dishwasher and took a seat at the table. While I poured
the caramel-red liquid into each shooter, I thought about the first
time I had played a game of Wishes.
    ***
    Fort Rucker, the month before
senior spring break. Taylor dropped a full duffle bag by the door
and stared at me with his arms crossed.
    "I know you don't have anywhere
you want to go," he said. "Come stay at my parents'
house."
    "No thanks. I'm too busy this
week."
    "You're full of shit."
    "No, I'm serious. I have to
study."
    "Won't take no for an answer," he
said. "They live on Blackbird Bay. We can take the boat
out."
    "I'm good. Really."
    "This isn't a request, Randon.
Besides, I can't leave you here alone." He cocked an eyebrow.
"Knowing you, you'll hang yourself in the showers. Actually, the
depression you're radiating is likely to make everyone kill themselves. I'm
tempted to slice my arm open just standing here, so stop being a
miserable cunt."
    "All right, fine. But I'm warning
you, I'm not good at the whole family thing."
    "So you say. Now pack. We're
already running late."
    The trip took three hours. The sun
had set by the time the cab pulled into the driveway.
    Mrs. Christina, Taylor's mother,
ran outside to meet us. She grabbed Taylor before he could even get
out of the back seat. She kissed him on both cheeks then pulled him
to his feet and took a good look at his uniform. I exited from the
other side and walked around the car. Her face lit up when she saw
me, and she pulled me in for a hug. The way she held me had made me
feel as though I was her son, too. It was a warm, loving embrace.
All my hesitation and anxiety melted away, and I felt
welcomed.
    "Jon," she said, "it's so nice to
meet you. I'm Christina, but you can call me Chrissy. Come on, let
me introduce you the rest of the family." She grabbed me by the
hand and led the way around to the back yard.
    Kyle, Taylor's brother stood over
a flaming grill. He introduced himself by handing me a cheeseburger
on a paper plate. "Enjoy!" he said, then he went back to work
flipping the next batch of burgers.
    Taylor's sister, Tiffany, swam in
the pool with two of her friends. When the three girls saw us come
around the corner, they whispered and giggled to each
other.
    "Tiff, say hi to Jon," Mrs.
Christina said. "He's going to stay with us for the
week."
    "Hiii, Jooon," she mocked, her
voice comedic and flirtatious. "You can share my room."
    "Tiffany Ann Taylor! Manners!"
Mrs. Christina shouted jokingly. "Oh, don't mind the harlots, Jon."
She laughed. "Come on, Hunter's on the porch."
    I let Taylor and Mrs.