Ezra

I sit in my car at the clubhouse yard, staring at the text Ray sent.

Ray: Be at the clubhouse in an hour. Bring your VP vest.

My stomach churns because I know what this is. God, Ray, please.

A lump settles in my throat, and I stare out at the yard. Everyone’s already gathered, music thumping loudly as they giggle and chatter.

They don’t know what’s about to happen. They don’t know…my throat closes up.

I push the door open and step out, marching down the yard.

“Yo! VP!” ...