Chapter 12
Andy curled his hands around the other mug and let its warmth seep into his bones. “Black is fine,” he said, sighing happily. “I won’t say I’ve never indulged in overpriced dessert disguised as a drink, but mostly, yeah, black.” Which was true, so he didn’t have to give voice to how terribly awkward and intrusive it would feel to go into Scooter’s private space. He sipped carefully, mindful of the temperature, then took a slightly bigger gulp when it proved to be cool enough. The noise he made was probably close to obscene, but he didn’t really care. Coffee
Scooter cleared his throat and shifted his weight—yep, probably shouldn’t have made that noise, but coffee—and said, “I’m gonna go into town in a bit, run some errands. Pick you up anything while I’m there? Or you can ride along, if you want?”
Andy considered the forty bucks tucked into his pocket that had more than tripled his net worth. He desperately needed some toiletries, at least. Why the hell hadn’t he remembered to pack his razor and toothbrush? And maybe some more Advil. “That’s probably not a bad idea,” he said. “If you don’t mind the company, anyway.”
“Not at all,” Scooter said. He brushed his hair out of his face, scraping it back into a tidy little bun. He dug an elastic out of his front pocket and secured it. “Should give you a chance to see what the area offers. Look into getting a bike or something, so you’re not dependent on me for transport.”
Andy huffed a bit of a laugh. “Yeah, I’ll think about that. Be a while before I can scrape that kind of money together.” He shrugged, suddenly uneasy. “Don’t let me impose, though. You’re already…I can hitch-hike into town or whatever.”
“Climate change, I get it, Big City,” Scooter said, easily enough. “But that’s not how we do things down here. You have no idea how much help you’re gonna be. But you’ll learn quick enough. You think last night was busy, wait ‘til Saturday. I’ll get my pound of flesh out of you, don’t you fret none.”
It should’ve been a bit worrisome, really, that the rather frantic rush they’d had the previous night was only the tip of the iceberg. But somehow, with Scooter smirking at him over the rim of his mug of coffee, Andy felt…warmed. Like he was needed. Wanted. Appreciated. Could actually do something useful again. Nick hadn’t wanted Andy to work, and their not-infrequent arguments about it had taken a lot of the satisfaction out of it for Andy. Which, he realized now, was exactly what Nick had wanted. Andy took a breath, and it was clean and crisp, like he hadn’t taken a proper breath in years.
“Yeah, okay,” he said. And then, because Scooter was still smiling at him, he said, “I’m…just going to go check on that door, make sure the glue didn’t drip,” and ducked back down the stairs, Trick agreeably in tow.
* * * *
It was the same, and yet so, so very different. Standing at the rail, drinking coffee, staring out at the sea. Jeff had joined him about half the time, when he wasn’t sleeping off a bender, or just sleeping. Jeff could—and often did—sleep until noon when allowed. Jeff drank his coffee with half a mug of sugar, half a mug of milk, and maybe a splash of coffee. Scooter’s milk purchases would drop considerably if Andy took it black on the regular.
And, of course, there was the fact that his entire body was so enticingly aware of Andy. He was reminded that it had been a long, long damn time since he’d gotten laid. After Dad passed on—and to be fair, the year or so before that, because Dad hadn’t coped well with being a widower—Scooter just hadn’t had time to dedicate to finding a one-night stand, given that he refused to sleep with customers. Especially after—He slammed that thought away without giving it room in his head.
Which would have been fine, Scooter was used to it, except Andy drank coffee like he was getting a blowjob, and it was entirely unfair for Scooter to have to live with the memory of that sound. Because there was nothing Scooter could do about it. Scooter didn’t break the rules, not anymore. And Andy was as jumpy as a jackrabbit. Whatever had happened, he had been ill-used. So he didn’t want Scooter sniffing after him anyway.
Scooter grabbed a T-shirt and stepped into his aging red Keds. Quick time check: yes, they’d probably be back before the lunch crowd, and he could shower then. He crossed the walkway between the two buildings, glancing at the sea. If they were back early, maybe he’d have time for a swim. He knocked on Andy’s door.