8. Jack

8

JACK

Christ, the man either bugs the shit out of me or ignores me. At least that’s what he did when he picked up his car this afternoon, with his tanned skin from a day at the beach on full display.

He’d spoken to Frank for quite a while in the garage—it sounded more like flirting, but who am I to judge? He’s not beholden to fucking only me when in town, but Frank isn’t even queer. He dates a ton of women, and I’ve known him my whole life. But he’s nice to look at. I’ll give him that. If I didn’t know better, I’d say Aaron was flirting on purpose to get me worked up.

But I’m not going to take the bait.

When the service garage closes for the day and Mike arrives for his nighttime shift, Frank and I go our separate ways. Frank is headed to his parents’ house, and I’m grabbing dinner with my siblings at the Witching Hour.

My brother spots my arrival and gives me an up-nod in greeting. I sidle up to where June sits on a stool, enjoying a glass of wine with an appetizer.

“How’s it going?” Johnny asks with a fist bump. It feels like an informal family gathering without our parents. Mom would always say she hoped we remained close, and we’ve tried hard. Aunt Dina, Mom’s sister, helped keep her memory alive by suggesting we continue the monthly barbecue tradition at the house where we were raised. Johnny lives there now, having inherited it after they passed. He tends to take things in stride and volunteered immediately to host family gatherings. Though he doesn’t have to do all the cooking. We all bring something to share, and with Aunt Dina, Uncle Chuck, and Cain, it feels almost the same as before. Except not.

“Pretty good. You?”

“Business has been slower than usual but holding steady.”

June frowns. “The annual rib fest and the art fair will make up for it as usual.”

Johnny enjoys staying busy—which is likely the reason he came up with the annual foodie event at his bar—but his reasons for staying busy are different from mine and June’s. June does it to fill her time, first at the diner for the breakfast shift, then at Honeycomb to help Aunt Dina a few afternoons a week. The routine suits them, and they’ve grown closer since the accident. It’s not like they don’t have friends or other things to keep them occupied, like Aunt Dina’s sewing circle and June’s book club, but since the accident, being surrounded by family feels more comfortable for all of us.

Before, I’d been perfectly content hanging out on my back porch or in my photography studio. Dad always teased that I was hiding, and maybe I was, but I’ve always been more introverted than my siblings.

Frank can bring out a more gregarious side of me after a few beers, but that’d mostly been in our younger days. When life felt less burdensome and more carefree.

“I’ll have a beer,” I say to Johnny as he wipes down the bar with the towel he always keeps over his shoulder.

“Any food?” he asks, knowing I’m normally famished after work.

I hesitate for a moment, not looking at the door but thinking back to how Aaron and I left our conversation on the beach.

“Hand me a menu,” I reply, stalling for time.

His eyebrows draw together as he reaches for one under the bar. “You know it inside out.”

I scoff. “Maybe I wanna look at it again.”

He hands me the menu, which essentially consists of a handful of food items and the weekly beers on tap. “Suit yourself.”

I’m pretending to look it over when I hear the sound of the door opening. It could be any of the locals, but my stomach still does this tilt-a-whirl thing. Maybe telling Aaron about my plans wasn’t such a good idea. I should’ve aimed to see less of him, not more.

“Well, look who it is,” June says in that singsong voice she uses to tease me. I don’t even turn to look, knowing with certainty it’s him.

“Hey there!” June waves him over. “You should join us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Barstools are free,” I mutter, irritated by how my stomach dips when our eyes meet.

“Don’t be such a grouch,” June scolds, elbowing me like Mom used to do.

“I don’t think he can help himself,” Aaron replies as he claims the stool on the other side of me.

My brother laughs. “You got him pegged already, and you’re only passing through.”

Aaron smirks. “He’s not that hard to read, even if he thinks he is.”

I narrow my eyes at him as he orders a beer. He likes getting a rise out of me, and I walked right into it again.

“You’re from San Jose, right?” Johnny asks, setting the glass in front of him.

“Yep.” Aaron throws me a sidelong glance, and I feel a bit embarrassed that my family knows so much about him. But then I remember that they chatted when he was last here, and Johnny has a good memory for details. It makes him a good bartender.

“You grow up there?”

“I did.” Aaron lifts his beer and takes a quick sip. “Went to college in San Francisco, then returned to my hometown.”

“Nice. What did you study?”

“Business.”

I keep my mouth shut even though he left out the architecture part and the other stuff about construction and interior design. Christ, the fact that I listened so intently to those details is concerning.

“Ever consider living in a small coastal town like this?”

“Not really, but I can see the appeal. I had the misconception they were all filled with close-minded people, but it seems you’ve staked your claim.” He motions toward the wall. “Even have a rainbow flag.”

“There’s close-minded people in cities too,” I counter.

“That’s right, and those who don’t support us can fuck right off,” Johnny says, rapping his knuckles on the bar top. “At least that’s been our family motto.”

I can see Aaron’s wheels spinning, wondering all sorts of things about my family and how we were raised. It makes my chest ache with longing for my parents’ advice about any number of things, even if I’d pretended to hate their interference.

“Hear, hear!” Aaron lifts his beer, then slugs it back.

June grins at Johnny, who turns to Aaron. “So, what else can I get you?”

“Hmmm…” Aaron quickly glances at the menu. “I liked my burger last time.”

“I’ll put your order in,” Johnny replies, then looks at the glass I drained. “Along with another beer.”

It grows quiet as Johnny fills my glass, then heads off to help another customer.

“On that note…” June stands and straightens her shirt. “I’m headed home.”

“You sure you don’t want to hang out a little longer?” I ask, but she’s already hoisting her bag on her shoulder.

“I’m beat. Plus, Cain will be home soon.”

Cain is an adult but still lives with June, which is fine by her. She hasn’t enjoyed being alone after my brother-in-law’s death. Cain always being a wild child also figures in. She likes keeping an eye on him, though she has a hard time watching him ride the waves—something about being a mom and scared of another accident. Or the town curse. Totally understandable. If only Cain agreed. But his philosophy is different since his father’s death. Live life to the fullest and all that.

Once June says her goodbyes, we sit in comfortable silence, sipping our beers.

“So about your photography… Where do you develop your film?”

“I have a studio behind my house.”

His eyes fill with awe like I’m sharing something amazing. “Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. Just a little shed I fixed up in my spare time.”

“Do you have a red room?”

“You mean a darkroom?” I chuckle, and he nods. “Yeah, that too.”

“Any chance I can see it?”

I set my glass down. “Why do you want to?”

He shrugs and looks away. “Something to do.”

“Oh, well, if you need something to do, I can always direct you to?—”

“That’s not what I mean, and you know it.” His knee brushes against mine.

I look down at our legs, willing myself to keep it cool. “Cut to the chase and say exactly what you mean.”

“I want to see your photography because I’m interested in your art,” he replies. He’s one of the only people I’ve heard refer to it that way. “Plus, it might be more private to hook up at your place than at the inn.”

My dick twitches. “That’s true. Let me think on it.”

Our food is delivered, and as we dig in, we shoot the shit for a while with Johnny and other townsfolk sitting at the bar. Mindy, the owner of Slice of Life, convinces Aaron that he needs to try her banana cream pie before leaving town. When Beth comes through the door, Johnny shoots me a look, but I ignore her like I always do. Aunt Dina accuses me of holding a grudge, but I’m not the only one. Walter, who sells souvenirs at his stand in town, once accused her of cursing the town, and every time she enters Johnny’s bar, Walter leaves as if on principle. I watch now as he stands, downs his beer, and heads for the door, grumbling to himself.

I don’t believe all that about curses. My resentment toward Beth began after the accident. For me, clinging to the last remnants of anger about the whole situation helps keep the other emotions at bay. Beth scoffs as the door swings closed on Walter, and then she waves to Aaron. She keeps her distance, but if he thinks something’s up, he doesn’t mention it. No doubt they’ve already interacted in some way, shape, or form, but I don’t fault Aaron for that. Plenty of tourists end up at her shop. More power to them. Just hope they don’t take to heart anything she tells them. Intuitive healer or not, she’s not God.

“See, that right there is the thing about small towns,” Aaron says, pointing his fork across the bar. “We don’t go out of our way to greet people in bigger ones. Most people don’t even know their neighbors. No way I’ve met everyone in my building.”

I imagine Aaron living in a high-rise. “Do you like that anonymity?”

“Sometimes, yeah.” He pushes his empty plate away. “Especially after doing something really stupid in my younger, partying days.”

“That’s true enough.” No way around it for the McCoys in this town. I glance at some of the probing eyes. “Right now, some of the locals are speculating who you are and why you’re sitting here with me. Others already know and will be sure to pass the word.”

He winces, maybe still feeling the sting of our argument regarding the sale of my business. He tosses his card on top of the bill, and I don’t argue since I paid the last time and he’d be sure to call me on it. “Does that mean you try and steer clear of hooking up in Aqua Vista?”

“Been there, done that. I prefer to go elsewhere.”

“Ah, I see. More opportunity in other towns.”

“Yep, but every now and again…” I wink and stand. “I’m headed home. I have your phone number from the service station, so I’ll text you the address. You might want to wait five minutes before you leave so they don’t start gossiping.”

“Will do,” he replies with a chuckle.