Chapter 10
The red numbers didn’t get much less red. They’d had a good night, but it would take months of good nights to get Dockside back into the black. Hopefully tourist season would see them through another year. It was always slow in the winter, but winter was over and school would be letting out soon. Things would pick up. He hoped.
Scooter rubbed at his eyes and jotted another entry into his log. At least he hadn’t had to pay a carpenter to fix the door. That reminded him, and he flicked a twenty and four fives out of the deposit bag, then locked the rest of the cash in the safe.
He shut up his office and went looking for Andy.
Andy was sitting on the porch steps, the orange leash across his knees as he watched Trick chasing the waves. He flinched as Scooter came out of the door, then relaxed with a sigh. “All done?” he asked, trying to act casual.
Scooter double-counted the cash and handed Andy forty dollars. “All done. Sorry you didn’t get more time to settle in. Weekdays usually aren’t that busy, but it’s good, it’s all good.” He stared out at the blackness over the water, listening to the waves roll in. Soothing. Safe. Home. “Can I ask a question?”
“Ask anything you want,” Andy said, but his guarded tone meant and then I’ll decide whether to answer
“You weren’t in any barfight,” Scooter said. He reached for his smokes, drew one out slow, and tapped it against the pack. “And it’s none of my business what, but…is what you’re runnin’ from gonna bring hurt to me an’ mine?” He flicked his lighter and drew hot smoke into his chest, held it for a moment, then let out a smoke ring, watched it shimmer in the evening air and dissipate.
Andy seemed to give it some consideration, stone-faced. A couple of times, he drew a slightly deeper breath, as if planning to speak, but then let it go unvoiced. Finally, he shook his head. “Shouldn’t be able to find me,” he said, low. “I’ll run again, if I have to.” His eyes were fixed on the waves, or something far beyond them. “It’s not the law,” he said after another moment. “You won’t be in any trouble for harboring a fugitive or anything.”
“Well, it wouldn’t be the first time I’ve run up against the law,” Scooter reflected, flicking ash off the end of his cigarette. “I don’t mind weatherin’ down a storm. Just like to know if one’s coming.” He took another drag; his ma was probably frowning down at him from Heaven; she never did like that he smoked, but one at bedtime and one before he started his day was just a habit he couldn’t give up. It settled him. “You’re gonna have wet dog and sea salt smell in your room, unless we rinse him off. Then you’ll just have wet dog.” He whistled for Trick. “Shake.”
Trick floofed himself out enormously, the whole body rocking back and forth, spraying ocean water everywhere and leaving the golden dog’s fur sticking up every which way like he’d been spin-dried. “Yeah, who’s a good boy?” Scooter nuzzled the dog for a minute, enjoying his simple joy and uncomplicated affection. “C’mon, hose is this way.”
* * * *
Trick seemed to be happy to wait patiently at the door to the apartment while Andy dug up some towels. Jeff had left a huge stack of them in a wide variety of shades of orange. The number of towels probably made sense for a guy living at the beach with a dog that liked to swim, but Andy might’ve preferred a different color scheme; all the orange in the place was a little eye-searing. He put a handful of towels down on the sofa—obviously the dog’s favorite spot—and then pointed, and Trick bounded over and up, tail wagging happily and spattering water everywhere.
Andy locked the door and pulled the chain—though it wouldn’t keep out a fifth-grader, much less a determined intruder—and stripped down to his boxers. He threw his jeans over the back of a chair to air, since he’d been wearing them for two days straight and would be wearing them again tomorrow.
The little apartment was ridiculously quiet, the rush of surf no competition for the constant noise of traffic and trains and people that Andy was used to. It was far too dark, as well; the nearest streetlamp was at least a block away. The sheets were clean, as advertised, but the bed was unfamiliar, every uneven dip and lump like a rock in Andy’s back. He had new appreciation for the princess and her pea, the way even minor irregularities seemed massive.