Chapter 53
He sweet-talked one of the street vendors into a few squares of fresh, hot gingerbread right out of the oven. He packed half of it away to share and ate the rest.
A gaggle of kids, all staring at their phones, nearly ran him over in their attempts to chase down a rare Pokémon.
Scooter got to the green, checked around in case anyone was watching, and then hauled himself up into the enormous oak that shaded the southern half of the lawn. The tree was huge, smooth-barked from decades of kids and college students playing on and around it, with plenty of finger and toe holds. It was a good tree. Better than the swamp-survivors down at Sandbridge, scrub-pines and tiny poplars. Being so close to shore, the salt water did a number on trees, and the ones that remained had to suffer through hurricane season every year. The few trees in Sandbridge were survivors, but they didn’t have the majesty of the old inland trees like this one.
It wasn’t long before he was halfway up, concealed in the thick, green foliage. Scooter found a good-sized branch, nearly as wide as a picnic bench, and laid down, letting his arms and legs dangle over the sides. Staring up at the leaves and sky above him, breathing the cool green and listening to the morning sounds, he was able to relax, to focus on sorting his feelings and motivations and unwinding them from the hot tangle of physical desire. Just…thinking.
Most of the shops along the street were open by the time Scooter found his center and climbed back down. He dropped into the candy store to pick up some treats that Collins’ Confectionary didn’t stock, like the chocolate-covered honeycomb that Kat liked so much. He grabbed chocolate covered apples for everyone, too.
And on impulse, an enormous gummy worm for Jason, who would stare at it in horrified fascination before swearing he was not, not, not going to eat that. Less than a week later, he’d have a terrible upset stomach and a green stain on his tongue, and Scooter and the others would laugh.
It was too early in the day for bread ends, but he stopped at the Cheese Shoppe anyway and bought a quart of their famous house dressing, a loaf of French bread, and a couple of bottles of cheap wine from the local selections. Then, laden with his purchases but lighter in spirit, he went home. It wasn’t much, really, not worth the gas for the hour-and-change it took for each leg of the trip, but he’d wanted the drive. Some time alone, without anyone else demanding his attention and fracturing his thoughts. Quiet was hard to come by at Dockside. Not that he didn’t love the place, but sometimes a man just needed to think. (Scooter imagined the face Kat would make if she heard him say that, all raised eyebrows and dubious snorts.)
Most of the way home, a detour to get around a snarl of traffic took him past an exit for Ghent, which brought a quick smile to his face. He had fond memories of the neighborhood, and didn’t get back nearly often enough. Which, come to think of it, gave him an idea for a first date. Yeah, Andy would like that.
* * * *
Andy was still leaning on the balcony railing and studying the note when Jason and Kat arrived.
“Truck’s gone,” Jason observed as he unfolded himself from their ridiculously teeny car. “Scooter run into town? We could’ve stopped if he needed something.”
Andy held up the note. “He left early, says he’ll be back for lunch. He ran up to the…’burg? He means Williamsburg, yeah? What’s up there?”
“Tourists. Even dumber ones than down here,” Jason said. “They just…walk right out into the street without even looking. Drives me crazy.”
“Short. Trip.” Kat brushed her hands down her short shorts. “Ugh. I swear, I have a wedgie so high it’s making my brain hurt.”
“I’m not helping you pick your wedgies,” Andy said. “What’s in Williamsburg for Scooter?”
“He said ‘burg and not barbeque?” Jason frowned. “Could go for some pulled pork.”
Andy peered over his cheap sunglasses at Jason. “We have barbeque here.” Kat had taken him to Doumar’s a couple of times, and even Andy’s Yankee sensibilities had been impressed.
“Not like Pierce’s Pitt,” Kat said. “Doumar’s is good. Pierce’s is better. Factor of ten. Almost worth the hour and a half drive.” She tapped her fingers against her lips. “Maybe he just…” She squinted up at Andy, head cocked to one side. Her gaze went from Andy’s bedhead, down his neck and then…”Oh.”
Andy twitched, but managed not to reach for his neck to check for hickies.