Chapter 84
When they finished the packing and everything in Dockside was as locked down as it was getting, Scooter went out on the rail to have one of his rare midday smokes. “Won’t get one once we’re at Kat and Jason’s. She’d murder me, even if I smoked it on the balcony.” He glanced at Andy. “You scared?”
“Not much.” Honestly, he was more excited than scared. Despite Scooter’s steadily increasing agitation, Kat and Jason and D’ante had all worked with matter-of-fact efficiency but no real panic, taking time to joke and tease as they always did. Jason had pointed out a news crew out on the road, shooting footage up and down the beach of locals doing their prep, and they’d spent a while laughing about it. Nothing seemed particularly scary. “Should I be?”
Scooter chewed his lip and tilted his head back and forth. “Eh, maybe? About half the time the storm bounces and it’s no worse than a regular storm. Half of that time we get high tides and flooding, but the prep keeps it from wiping us out. And then half of the rest of that time we end up with major repairs. Some of the locals stick it out on the beach. If you’re here when the windows break or the door comes off, sometimes you can mitigate the damage. But I put lives over property, and hurricanes kill. Drowning most often. You get caught in a current and swept away. Battered on rocks and trees and cars. Terrible way to die. Last year during Hurricane Matthew—which didn’t even hit us that bad, just a ton of rain, really—Raneisha and her mom stayed and a tree fell on their house. Only reason Raneisha wasn’t killed is ‘cause their dog was barking and she got up from the sofa to try and calm her down. Twenty seconds later the roof came down right where she’d been sitting. They’re evacuating this year.”
That would’ve been tragic for sure—Raneisha was a great kid, and smart as a whip. She was going to change the world someday. But Andy put his arm around Scooter’s waist, squeezing. “So are we,” he pointed out. “So we’re going to be safe. And if stuff is broken when it’s all done…” He shrugged. “Fixing things is what I do.”
Scooter nodded, leaning against Andy. “I know. I don’t deal well with waiting, is all. It’s the anticipation that gets to me.” He checked his phone again. “I give it…less than twenty more minutes.”
“Until?” Andy hadn’t seen a weather report for a few hours; twenty minutes seemed to be shaving it pretty close if the storm had sped up again, given the way traffic could get snarled up sometimes.
“Until Jason comes up to try to convince me we have enough time to surf before the storm rolls in,” Scooter said. “Surf report says we’ve got at least four feet overhead. Ten bucks says he’s downstairs right now trying to talk Kat into it.”
Andy grinned. “No bet,” he said, because Jason was a fanatic about getting out into the waves every possible chance. “You going to let him talk you into it? Should I fish my trunks out of the go-bag?”
“You want to? This’ll be hard surf, full tubes. If you get wiped out, you could catch riptide. No riding double, it won’t be that gentle.” Scooter’s answering grin was mildly challenging.
“When am I going to get a chance like this again?” Andy pointed out. “I promise I won’t try to practice any tricks. You guys won’t let anything happen to me.”
“Don’t get your trunks. I have an extra wet suit that’ll probably fit you,” Scooter said. “This tide’ll pull your shorts right off. I’m a little bigger than you are, so it’ll be loose on you. We’ll look into getting you one of your own next season. We won’t be out long enough for you to get rubber-burn. Probably.”
“Sold. I wouldn’t care about accidentally flashing Kat and Jason, but that news crew is still cruising up and down the beach and I don’t need my ass on the ten o’clock rundown.”
Scooter chuckled, squeezing the ass in question. “It’s certainly pretty enough to get there. C’mon, let’s get changed. The less time Jason has to argue me into it, the more waves we can catch, although sometimes I just like to let him argue. It’s funny.”
“If arguing were an Olympic sport, he’d have all the medals,” Andy agreed. “We should load our stuff in the truck before we go, too.”
“Good plan. If we can get ready before Jason comes out…I’ll do something really nice for you.”
“Yeah?” Andy said, his body flush with heat. “Let’s get a move on then.” 32
The power went out in the first hour of the storm, leaving them in darkness, and then candlelight. Kat’s aesthetic prohibited battery lamps, despite the fire risk, and she had dozens of enormous pillar candles. Within a matter of minutes after the lights had flickered and died, the room took on a gothic appearance, like some ancient cathedral in a horror movie.