Chapter 99

Not that it took much coaxing; the things Scooter could do with his tongue, even while they were both still fully clothed, were probably illegal in several states. Andy let him in, tangling fingers in his hair, sinking into the pleasure, lazy and slow.

Andy’s hips rocked without conscious thought, seeking more friction, more heat. “Mm, baby…” He managed to slip one hand between their bodies and start working the buttons of Scooter’s shirt open. “God, honey, you make me crazy.”

“Andy, I—” Scooter rutted up against Andy’s thigh, and oh yeah, that was just right, that angle, perfect—

Bzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzaaat!

Scooter’s phone vibrated hard enough to rattle Andy’s teeth, the jolt starting at the base of his dick, pressed against the pocket where the phone was, and going straight up into his jaw. “The fuck—!” Andy jerked back in shock so hard he overbalanced and nearly fell before Scooter caught him and pulled him back upright. “What the hell,” he panted. “It’s gotta be—” He craned his neck around to check the clock. “It’s two in the damn morning, why the fuck is someone calling at two in the morning?” The phone buzzed again, less tooth-rattling now that sensitive parts of Andy’s anatomy weren’t pressed against it.

Scooter sighed, digging around in his front pocket. “Nothin’ good, usually,” he said, finally unearthing the damn phone. He glanced at the screen and thumbed it on. “Jeff? Is everything okay?”

Tiny but frantic, Jeff’s voice came out of the phone just loud enough for Andy to overhear, “Oh, God, oh, God, Scooter! Are you sleeping with the dishwasher?”

Scooter dropped his face into his hand. “For fuck’s sake, Tucker!”

Andy leaned forward to put his mouth closer to the phone. “He wouldbe, if you weren’t interrupting.”

“You are! Oh, wow! So that’s what Debbie meant!”

“G’nite, Jeff.” Scooter jabbed at the disconnect, scowled at his phone a moment, then turned it all the way off. “Now, where were we? I think right…about…here.”

THE ENDDaybreak in Sandbridge

1

The first clear memory Winston “Scooter” Stahl had was of falling.

He knew he should have more memories than that, and if he concentrated, he could summon a few. Like his sister’s seventeenth birthday, when she kissed a boy in her bedroom and Scooter told on her. The stinging rat-tail Mary-Alice gave him in retaliation a few days afterward is a little clearer. But neither of them was as clear and bright and indelible as the memory of falling.

Even years later, the memory haunted his dreams.

* * * *

Lorraine Stahl, Scooter’s mother, was a good-looking woman, tall and gray-eyed. She was an excellent cook, a skilled wood-carver, a capable seamstress, and an amateur historian. The latter two interests served her well when she got involved in reenactment and joined the 3rdVirginia Regiment. Big Win, her husband and Scooter’s father, thought the whole thing was ridiculous. He refused to dress up in “hot, fussy” Colonial gear and pretend to fight with antiquated weapons in battles long since decided. Much less cook outdoors, sleep in canvas tents, and shoot powder blanks at smaller groups of pretend Redcoats.

Scooter had heard from his sister about some of the arguments Lorraine and Big Win had, back before Scooter was born, but in the end, as usual, Lorraine had her way. She was gone from home maybe five weekends out of the year. Big Win didn’t want his kids underfoot while he tried to run the family restaurant, Dockside, on his own, so until Mary-Alice—or Mace, as she insisted on being called—was sixteen, Lorraine took both of the kids with her.

Mace hated it. It was always too hot or too cold, and the clothes were uncomfortable, and she didn’t like sleeping on a pallet of hay. The boys were boring and the girls insipid. She was expected to cook and darn socks and sit and be ladylike. She thought the whole thing was awful.

Whether it was because he was a boy or because of a difference in underlying personality, Scooter lovedgoing on his ma’s trips. He liked listening to the unit’s surgeon, with his case of tools and unguents, explain about amputation and leeches. He liked the freedom of running around all day with other kids and only having to report to his mother for meals. Some of the other kids complained about having to help clean up after meals, but by the time Scooter was six, he’d been helping out in the kitchens at home, so dishes for three people was nothing. He loved learning to load and fire the flint and powder muskets, and that was the only part of the whole thing that Big Win was happy to listen to him talk about, after.