This Year is Your Year

“So,” Keith said. He was sprawled on the cool tile of Angel’s fancy kitchen. He had a champagne flute in one hand and an empty bottle of Bushmills in the other. “What’s your new year’s resolution?”

DJ, who was stubbornly clinging to a bottle of absinthe, said, “To stop drinking alcohol.”

Tobias, whose head was nestled next to DJ’s knee, let out an ungainly laugh. “Yeah right.” He waved his bottle of vodka to emphasize his point.

“In that case,” Christian said, “you’re welcome to take this as paint thinner.” He plunked down his mason jar of moonshine next to DJ’s ear.

“The day you stop drinking alcohol,” Gabriel said, “is the day Keith stops setting things on fire for fun.” He paused, then waved his shot glass. “That’s probably a good new year’s resolution for you, Keith. Because Asia’s gonna crumple you into a ball and throw you down the Marianna Trench if you keep burning her stuff.”

“Why do we even bother writing new year’s resolutions?” Keith asked. “We’re gonna live forever. If we actually followed through with any of them, we’d be perfect in a century, easy.”

“You know what my new year’s resolution is?” Tobias asked. “To get Asia to kiss me. Just one more time. Before I die.”

“You make it sound like you’re going to die sometime this year,” Christian said.

“He will, if he manages to get within kissing distance of her,” Gabriel said. “That’s killing distance too, you know.”

“It’d be nice to kiss her again, though,” Christian conceded.

“Then we should make it a team effort,” DJ said. “This year, Tobias gets his kiss. Next year, we nominate someone else.”

“I like it,” Tobias said.

“That’s because this year is your year,” Keith said. “But - all right. I’m in.”

“Happy new year, Tobias,” DJ said.

In the other room, crowded with Angel’s supermodels, starlets, and assorted floozies, people were cheering.

Six men stared up at the kitchen ceiling and contemplated the coming year.

(332 words)