Chapter 108

As soon as the escalator stopped, Andy was moving again—Jesus, how big wasthis place?—but he finally pulled to a halt as the walkway opened up into a broad area full of baggage carousels. They hadn’t checked any bags, but Andy was studying the board anyway. Before Scooter could ask, he started moving again. They walked past three carousels…four…Scooter was pretty sure Norfolk didn’t even have a tenth the number.

Andy’s path suddenly curved away from the actual carousels and the clusters of tired people around them. After a moment, Scooter realized they were moving toward a stocky, balding man in a suit. He was standing near the wall, posture almost military-straight, though his hands were clasped in front of him.

“Kenny!” Andy said, and the stocky man turned toward them, and his patient, bored expression split into a wide grin.

“Mr. Howard!” he said, deftly taking Andy’s bag and slinging it over his own shoulder before greeting Andy with a one-armed hug.

“Oh, God, Kenny, don’t call me that,” Andy groaned.

“Whatever you say, boss,” Kenny said, his eyes scrunching merrily.

Andy rolled his eyes extravagantly and took Scooter’s arm, tugging. “Scooter, this is Kenny, my mom’s driver. Ken, this is Scooter. My fiancé.” Andy smiled at Scooter proudly, not noticing the briefly startled look that Kenny shot him.

Jesus Christ, what had he gotten himself into? Andy’s mom had a driver? A permanent employee who had obviously been with the family long enough to remember Andy, who’d been gone from home for years. Scooter fumbled with his bag—it was new enough he still hadn’t figured out where all the straps were and it never seemed balanced correctly on his arm. He managed to get himself straightened out and offered the man a hand. “Nice to meet you,” he said, aware his drawl was…very obvious.

Kenny didn’t seem to notice. He shook Scooter’s hand firmly. “Pleasure’s all mine,” he said. “Can I take your bag, sir?”

Oh, boy. Sure. Scooter took a deep breath and shook the bag down his arm. “Thank you.” He twitched a little; there wasn’t much in the bag that was particularly valuable or anything, but he wasn’t used to people carrying his stuff. It was weird. Weirder was someone calling Andy boss. Or Mr. Howard. Andy was just…Andy. Except, obviously, he was someone else entirely here.

Kenny slung Scooter’s bag over the same shoulder as Andy’s—hedidn’t seem to have trouble with the way it balanced—and said, “Car’s this way,” before heading toward the bank of smoky glass doors.

Andy caught Scooter’s hand in his as they followed. “It’s weird, huh? I guess I should’ve explained a little more. Mom doesn’t drive. I don’t think she even has a license.”

“Climate change,” Scooter said, trying not to dwell on it. “Adapt or die, right?” He squeezed Andy’s fingers, wondering if it was okay to hold hands, and then forgot about it when they got outside. Andy’s mom’s car was…something else. That was a fucking Bentley or Scooter would eat his ball cap. “Think I mighta forgot to ask about your net worth, Andy.”

Andy tightened his grip. “I turned up on your doorstep with about twenty dollars to my name,” he said seriously. “My folks are…Uh, okay, they’re pretty well-off. But it doesn’t mean anything, not for us. I promise. I won’t let you drown. C’mon.” He climbed into the back seat, tugging Scooter with him. “It’s only a couple of days, right?”

Only a couple of days. Right. Scooter was sitting in a fucking car that was worth half as much as his entire restaurant, but it was okay. “Right.” He glanced at Andy, who was both smiling and doing that weird tightness around his eyes that meant he was thinking too hard, or thinking about the wrong things, and Scooter remembered suddenly that Andy hadn’t just shown up at his door broke, but also broken. And he’d still said Nick was better than his father.

With that firmly in mind, he was able, a little, to push aside sitting in a three hundred thousand dollar car like it was only a little weird. He was here to support Andy, not make Andy spoon feed him through this mess like an infant.

Kenny closed the trunk with their bags in it and came around to the front, climbing into the driver’s seat.

Andy leaned forward, not relinquishing his hold on Scooter’s hand. “When’d you get this?” he asked Kenny. “How’re you liking it?”

And then Kenny and Andy were talking about the car’s engine and handling, and thatwas Andy all over. Scooter had spent more than one evening watching Andy and Martin argue about cars and engines and performance ratios and words that didn’t even make sense to Scooter’s ears. Andy glanced back at him and smiled warmly, then went back to talking to Kenny, who’d pulled out into the traffic so smoothly Scooter hadn’t even noticed the movement.