B.A. Tortuga Rain and Whiskey 1 (pdf)

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waiting. So the game must be sucking rocks.
He'd thought the house would look different dingy or
something, maybe, but it didn't. It just looked like home.
Shane watched until Galen finally turned everything off
and went to bed, opening the bedroom window to let the air
in.
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It made him smile, thinking of Galen all stretched out, long
and dark and fine on the sheets. He was a night owl he'd
watched Len sleep a lot, knew just how it looked, knew the
sounds of it. Knew the way Galen woke a little sometimes and
reached to make sure he was still in the bed. Maybe there
was a pillow there, now. Or maybe Galen slept deeper alone
and didn't reach.
He watched until the sky started lightening on up, then he
rubbed his eyes and started the engine, heading out. He
wasn't stalking, he just...
He just wanted to see.
* * * *
He packed up his shit the day before Thanksgiving and
headed up to Shreveport, planning on spending the day with
his momma. She was expecting him and Shane, and when he
showed up by himself she gave him a look, but she didn't say
anything, just hugged his neck. When he unpacked his
suitcase that night he found somehow one of Shane's good
shirts was in there.
Damn his stubborn pride anyway.
Dinner was good the next day, even if there was enough
food for a hundred people and not just the two of them.
"If I'd have known, honey, we would have just gone to
Aunt Ida's."
Galen knew he should feel guilty for making her cook up a
mess of food just for him, should have called her, told her.
But he couldn't face Aunt Ida and the kids and the hoards of
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curious relatives who had heard they weren't seeing Galen
because he'd got himself a man.
"Sorry, momma." What else could he say?
"Is this a fight you can make up?"
Her dark eyes were serious as a heart attack, and Galen
shrugged. "I don't know, momma. I said some hateful
things."
"Then you go and apologize, Galen Frost. Any fool can see
that boy loves you."
He winced, shoulders hunching up. She sighed, patting his
shoulder as she got up to get the pie. "You want pecan or
pumpkin?"
"Pecan, please ma'am."
She left him alone in the dining room, and Galen rubbed
the back of his neck with one hand. If any fool could tell, why
couldn't he? Because he sure fit that description.
A piece of pecan pie on a pretty plate thumped down in
front of him, making him jump. "So are you gonna find him
when you go home and ask him back?"
Nodding slowly, Galen met her eyes, letting her see his
resolve. "Yes, momma. I think I am."
"Good. Now eat your pie."
Galen ate, humming at the taste. Maybe he'd have
momma make him another pie to take home with him for
when he looked Shane up. Just in case his apology wasn't
sweet enough.
* * * *
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Shane drove out to the shore and parked. There was a big
storm brewing over the ocean, winds and lights in the sky,
the clouds swirling and black as midnight under a skillet.
There wasn't anybody out tonight not with the storm and
the holiday and shit. It was just him and the storm and the
water.
The hood of the Jeep was warm under his butt, the six-
pack of beer still pretty cold, even though the ice in the cooler
had melted. He took off his shoes, his shirt, threw them inside
so they'd stay dry. He popped the first beer and started trying
to catch a buzz.
It was funny he didn't miss Galen every single second,
didn't just sit and cry or nothing. He'd caught the odd party
here and there, a couple bucks every so often. Enough to
keep him in gas and beer and the periodic peanut butter
sandwich. He figured if he could hold out 'til March,
somebody'd hire him to tend bar, even if it was just part-
time. If that didn't work...
Well, he guessed there was always Tennessee.
A clap of thunder shook the Jeep, drew goosebumps up all
over him. Wow.
He was missing his little apartment, his job. It wasn't the
most terrible thing ever it wasn't cold and the cops knew he
was having a tough go of it and let him sleep out of the way
and stuff, but he got tired of cold showers and shaving in the
bathroom of McDonalds and not having coffee and...
Well, the touching had been good, hadn't it? The lazing
around and the laughing. Fishing and running around and...
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Shane guessed he could go to the house and knock and
just ask Galen for his clothes and his Granddaddy's watch and
the little tin can of tips. He knew Galen didn't need them. Just
... well, he'd sort of gotten used to the thought of being
something he wasn't, of being the middle of something. Being
an us, he guessed. Part of a thing. And going to Galen's
house and knocking like a stranger?
Having Galen look at him like he was ... well, sort of like
the loser he was, he guessed. Galen could just keep the
shirts. Hell, he probably owed Galen way more than the $300
in the tin anyway and he didn't need the watch.
The songs on the radio made it sound like breaking up
changed you forever, sort of, and he wasn't.
He was still a slacker, still footloose and fancy free. Still
riding the edge of going under with a twenty in his pocket.
Still sitting and watching the storm roll in, waiting for the rain
to hit.
Still a fool.
Shane popped another beer and another as the downpour
came, drinking until it didn't matter that it wasn't breaking up
that had changed him, it had been the falling in love part.
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Chapter Thirteen
"Heard he got fired. He's sleeping in his Jeep."
Galen was lost in his whiskey, the shocking strength of the
taste drowning out the tacky techno music on the sound
system, but that little snippet of conversation caught him. He
looked up and saw three college age kids in baseball caps and
t-shirts, sharing a pitcher and talking.
"Yeah. Lost his apartment and everything."
"That was some fight."
"Were you there that night?"
"Yeah."
God. Galen almost got up and left, especially when he
realized they were talking about him and Shane, especially
when they all started staring at him out of the corners of their
eyes and he knew why they were talking about him and
Shane.
He'd been back to the club, soon as he'd gotten home from
momma's, only to have Miss Lynn tear into him, let him know
she's lost her best bartender 'cause of him, but she couldn't
let a man stay on if his thing of the week was going to tear up
the bar every Saturday night, could she?
Getting Shane fired? Made him feel more like a heel than
anything else had. Sure, he'd said some nasty things, but
Shane hadn't exactly been calm and collected either, had he?
This though, this let him know while he'd thought Shane
would be just fine without him, he was wrong.
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He'd gone to all of the clubs around, looking to see if
maybe Shane had found work somewhere else, and found the
same thing at each one of them. Things were slow, always
were come the late fall and winter, nobody needed a new
bartender.
Jesus. So he'd ended up in the last place Shane would
probably work, or even party, and there were these boys who
knew.
Shane was just fucking haunting him.
Galen tossed back the whiskey and stood, towering over
the boys' table, hands planted right next to their pitcher.
"Where?"
"What? Dude, what are you doing?"
"Where is he parking his Jeep?"
"Uh." One by one they looked at each other, and he
reached for the biggest one's shirt. The guy held up his
hands. "No! Man, I've seen you lay the smackdown, okay?
That little strip of beach out off the Harrison's swamp."
That little strip of beach where he and Shane had gone
parking. Yeah. Damn, Galen didn't know whether to howl or
hoot. His face must've been a study, because the kid in front
of him cringed.
"That's all I know, dude."
Galen backed off. "Thanks." [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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