16. Jack

16

JACK

I absently glance at the shiny Lexus that pulls up to a pump Friday morning. Not like we don’t serve a wide array of customers as well as cars, from junkers to Aston Martins.

Once he fills up, he parks in one of the spots reserved for the garage and goes inside. Maybe he needs directions or thinks we offer a snack counter. I can’t help noticing his expensive shoes and swanky suit.

The man waits in line, and as soon as I’m finished ringing up another customer, he steps closer. “Can I help you?”

“So this is the infamous gas station.” He raps his knuckles on the counter. “The only one around for miles.”

“Infamous?” I reply with a chuckle. What is this guy on about? “I obviously wouldn’t call us that, but drivers low on gas are certainly glad to happen upon us.”

“Indeed.” He smirks. “Anyway, I’m actually looking for someone staying in town.”

A light bulb goes off in my head. “Ah, you must be the business partner.”

“Rocco.” He holds out his hand, and I give it a quick shake out of courtesy, though I want to tell him to fuck off, especially if he’s here to offer reinforcement. “And you must be Jack McCoy. Looks like Aaron’s mentioned me?”

“Of course. I mean, you are trying to buy my business.”

“True. And I heard you turned us down flat.”

“Can you blame me?” I temper my tone so it doesn’t come across as sarcastic. “Look around. I’m living my best life.”

He glances across the sparse lobby and then toward the lone vending machine. “And you could probably do even better.”

“Not interested.” I hold up my hands, barely keeping from rolling my eyes. “You can find your friend by heading west on the main road. Once past the center of town, hang a right. He’s staying at the inn.”

“Perfect, thank you.” He looks around one last time as if casing the joint or picturing what it might become if only he could buy it. “See you around.”

Not if I can help it.

I watch as the man gets back in his fancy car and pulls away.

Frank strolls in from the garage side. “Who was that?”

“Aaron’s business partner. Probably here to lay it on thick and get me to fold on selling this place.”

“Oh boy, Grumpy Jack will be emerging soon.” He chuckles. “But I get it, especially if you already have your mind dead set against it.”

I stare at my friend, wondering what his opinion is. He’s remained quiet on the topic. “What if I did decide to sell one day? Where would that leave you?”

“No clue.” He shrugs like it’s no big thing, which has always been Frank. He just lets things roll off him. “Suppose I’ll cross that bridge when I get to it. The most important question is what’s best for you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s not pretend you love running this place. You’re doing it for your parents.”

I make a frustrated sound. “So? What if I am? What the hell else would I be doing?”

“Whatever it was you planned on doing before the accident.” He winces and looks away, knowing it’s still a painful subject.

“That’s just the thing. I never really had it all figured out.” I fold my arms and lean against the counter. “Not like you did. I helped run the family businesses and took pictures in my spare time.”

“Photography could’ve turned into a family business.”

My stomach bottoms out. It was a passing thought back in the day, but I never had the confidence to take the plunge. “I’m not that good.”

“You actually are,” he says pointedly. “I can picture it too. But maybe you can’t because you’ve never been very confident about it.”

“Maybe, maybe not. Doesn’t matter, though, because I am not letting some slick businessman from out of town buy my parents’ business.”

“Understood.” He scrutinizes me closely. “At least when it comes to that guy who was just here. But it’s a different story when it’s Aaron, isn’t it?”

I shift my weight from foot to foot. “Why do you say that?”

“Maybe it’s my imagination, but you’ve spent some time with the man, and you’re not complaining, so it must be good.” He pumps his eyebrows for effect.

“Yeah, I like him,” I admit. “It’s been nice hanging out, but does it matter? He’ll be leaving soon.”

“So? He lives a couple of hours away, no big deal.”

I give him that look that says, You’re kidding me, right?

“That relationship with Theo was what, four years ago?” he continues, going right to the heart of the matter. “Different circumstances, different person. Aaron seems like a good guy.”

Frank never liked Theo. Called him flighty, and in hindsight, he was right. But I was too infatuated to realize it. Or maybe I didn’t want to face some hard truths until it was too late. I swallow thickly. It’s ridiculous to ever entertain ideas about Aaron and me. “Neither of us is looking for anything but a good time.”

“You sure about that?”

“I’m sure.” I avert my eyes. “Now get out of my hair.”

“Okay, grumpy.” He turns toward the garage, then looks over his shoulder. “Maybe you could use a beer. Wanna throw one back later?”

“Sure, where to?”

“Johnny’s, of course.”

That idea doesn’t land well. “Or we could head out of town.”

“Trying to avoid another run-in, huh?” he asks, and I nod. “I don’t have that sort of time tonight. Gonna meet Becca after work.”

“Becca?” I try to remember the latest girl he’s seeing. Frank dates plenty of women casually. He’s good-looking and knows it—his strong jawline and nose from his Italian roots don’t hurt either—but he doesn’t brag or put on airs. He just is who he is, and the ladies gravitate toward him. The problem is, he’s too nice to turn some away and agrees to drinks way too easily.

I’m able to hook up and walk away, but Frank makes a sport of never getting serious about anyone—even if they think he is because of his gracious personality. I’ve seen more tears over that man through the years than anyone else. In high school, he broke our prom queen’s heart—though she got over it and is happily married with kids now.

I’ve always chalked it up to him never meeting the one.

But who am I to talk? Neither have I, even if at one time I thought I had. Even hearing Theo’s name after all this time makes me feel physically ill.

And damn, if Aaron lived in town and we spent a night like we just had in my studio, where his touch sent me over the edge and his kisses got my stomach all tied in knots, maybe, just maybe, I’d consider dating again. I strip that thought from my brain. Not going there, not when he’ll be on the road soon enough.

“That’s cool about meeting Becca. I’m just being dramatic.”

“Or jumping to awful conclusions?” he teases. “That’s not like you at all.”

I playfully shove him. “Get back to work, you ass.”

“Will do, boss.”

The day is busy, with plenty of traffic at the pumps and in the garage. I push aside the notion that Aaron is leaving in a couple of days and his remaining hours will now be occupied by his business partner. Listen to me. I’m not entitled to his time.

I look toward the ocean. Maybe I’ll shoot some stuff later tonight instead of brooding about a guy I’ll never have. There are few clouds in the sky, so the sunset is bound to be gorgeous. I could use a refresher on how lucky I am to live on the West Coast in this climate.

“Can I help you?” I ask the man who’s left the pump to step inside the station.

“Restroom?” he asks.

“Here you go.” I hand him the key attached to a piece of driftwood. Dad’s idea after customers kept forgetting to return it. “And we have a vending machine with drinks right over there.”

“No snacks?” We get that question often.

“Nope, sorry.”

The man frowns as he heads toward the restroom. I can’t help thinking about what Aaron said about upgrading the place and offering more to our customers.

But my parents never saw a need to expand, and it’s worked out well enough.

At least I’m not trying to price gouge.