Chapter Nine
“So… it’s all fixed then?”I hover over Rusty’s shoulder, trying to give him enough space to work, but also, so I don’t die from his stench. He is a friend; should I say something to him? Or should I just keep my mouth shut and wait for someone else to say something? Oh, the predicament.
“Yup. It was a pretty simple fix. I just had to replace this,” he says holding up the little piece in his hand. “With this,” he points to the new piece, all happy in its new place. At least I think it’s happy. How would I know how a stupid thingamajig feels? Sometimes I have really stupid thoughts. “Might want to go start ‘er up and make sure this propeller here starts spinning, just in case.” Uh, just in case what, dude? It better start spinning. It already took an entire week longer than he said it was going to take for the part to get here. My customers weren’t too thrilled either. Especially the little old granny, who looked all sweet and innocent until I told her what was goin’ on. She then proceeded to chew me out to my face, and about lost her dentures in the process. I am still getting the heebee-jeebies about those things sticking out of her mouth and then watching as she reached up and pushed them back in place, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.
Please don’t let me lose all of my teeth when I am old, I beg, to no one in particular. I make my way to the cockpit and slip inside, flip the switch, and pray to the guy upstairs that it starts up without a hitch. “Okay, Coop. You can shut ‘er off.” I wait for more, but all I hear is silence. Seriously, man, that’s it? You can’t just tell me that it started spinning? Gotta leave me in suspense and all? I switch off the engine and hop on out, trying not to grumble as I walk up to where he stands.
“So, did it work?” I thrust my hand out toward the plane, some of my frustration slipping through as Rusty turns to look at me.
“Oh, right. Yup. She started right on up.” He pats the plane with his hand and closes the panel, kneeling down to put his tools back inside the toolbox. He stands back up and puts his hand out, waiting for me to shake it. I look at his hand and wince as I grab it. He pumps it up and down before releasing it, leaving a streak of grease behind on my palm. It’s not like I am a germaphobe or anything; I am just… well… cautious. Which brings me back to my other dilemma. Do I tell this guy that he stinks, or do I just let it be?
“So, I will send ya a bill?” He scratches his head under his ball cap with his grimy hand, waiting for my answer while I internally struggle with what I am about to say.
I blow out a breath and go for it, what could possibly happen? “Hey, Rusty, I don’t know how else to say this, but… well… you stink. Like, really bad.” He stands there for a second, while he takes in my words.
“Oh, well, shoot.” The poor guy looks hurt. Like I have physically punched him in the stomach. “I’m sorry you feel that way about me, Coop. I thought we were pals.” Well, crap. The guy thinks I just told him he stinks, as in, I don’t like him. I start laughing, and he looks confused as I slap him on the shoulder.
“Nah, Rusty, I mean, you smell, dude. Badly, too.” I wait for his comprehension to click, and his face shifts from one of confusion to one of understanding.
“Oh, yeah. I know.” He shrugs his shoulders, like smelling bad isn’t something he should be concerned about.
“Ummm… I… uh…,” I hold up a finger, telling him to give me a second to try and figure out what the heck is going on before he starts laughing.
“Coop, I know I stink man. It’s on purpose. See, there’s this gal in town who keeps hiring me to fix things in her house. Like her stove, her microwave, literally anything that has components that might need tinkering,” he stops, waiting for my brain to catch up. When it doesn’t, I urge him on.
“And… I’m still not following you, Rusty.”
“And… she keeps trying to… well… you know?” His face starts turning red, and now I think I understand.
“Ah… she keeps flirtin’ with you, and you think that if you smell bad, she will leave you alone? Rusty… that is the dumbest thing I have ever heard. Is she like super old or something?”
“Nope, she’s about my age I think.”
“Well, then, is she not good lookin’?”
“Naw, she’s cute as a button.”
I scratch my head in confusion.
“Alright, Rusty, I don’t get it. If she is cute and your age, then why are you trying so hard to keep her away from you?” This conversation is pushing its boundaries. I don’t like talking about feelings, but I really need to know the answer.
“Uh… well… ya see, Coop. I haven’t really dated anyone before, and I don’t really know how to talk to her without stumblin’ over myself all stupid like.” His face turns red again, and he looks really uncomfortable.
“Okay, Rusty. I’m going to give you some advice. Take it or leave it; that is entirely up to you. First,” I hold up a finger as I continue talking, “Wash your clothes and take a shower. For one thing, your customers, i.e., me,” I point to myself with my finger as I continue to speak, “don’t appreciate it when the person they have hired smells like a teenager”s locker room. And second,” I hold up another finger, “if you think the girl is cute and you like her, then ask her out on a date, instead of making her find things for you to fix and wasting her money and your time.”
“Well, dang, Coop. Thanks. I hadn”t thought about it that way. Also, I am so glad someone told me, because I was startin’ to make myself sick with how nasty I smell. Sorry about that.” He picks up his toolbox and chuckles to himself as he walks to his truck.
I guess I just killed two birds with one stone. My plane is fixed, just in time for a few more tours, and before Miss Thatcher arrives to commandeer me and my plane for a few weeks. And I helped a friend who was in desperate need of some advice.
I pull out my watch and glance at the time, debating whether or not I have enough time to go catch a few waves before my next tour starts. I grab my board and peel off my shirt, heading for King’s shop to see if he wants to skip out on work and catch a few waves with me before I have to be responsible.
“Hey, Coop.” His head pokes around the corner, and he drops whatever he is doing, taking me in with my board.
“Wanna go grab a few before my next group gets here?” He takes one look around him and grabs his board, yelling to the back of the shop for Brody to keep an eye on things for a few, before we both book it out of there. It’s been too long since we both went surfing together. With the dang bakery taking up most of his free time, my best bud has been an absent figure in my life lately, and I am not a fan. Who knew a guy could be jealous of a bakery?
We hit the waves and get in a few sets before my timer on my watch goes off, warning me that it is almost time to be a responsible adult again. Sometimes I wish I could just grow back down again and go back to the good ol’ days, where King and I would skip school and surf until the sun went down. We head in on the next set and high five one another before parting our separate ways. “Later, King. I’ll let ya know if I have any cougars on my tour this time. That last one was a doozy.” I yell back at him.
“Sounds good, Coop. Just make sure to not let her kiss you this time. That last one could have been your mother.”
I shudder, remembering the woman from last week. She wasn’t bad looking at all, but I wasn’t interested in flings. Heck, I wasn’t even interested in relationships. That boat has sailed and sunk with my last girlfriend. If there is one valuable lesson I learned from our relationship, it’s that you can’t trust a woman. No matter how drop-dead gorgeous she is.
Two WeeksLater
I wait for King outside the bakery, leaning against the side of the building and shaking my head at what he is about to do. I cannot believe he got married. I don’t know what’s worse– that he got married or who he got married to. And now? Now he has coerced me into going out with them to look at rings. Rings! For Georgie, the woman he married, all for the sake of the family bakery. What a bunch of bull-crap.
King steps out of the bakery with Georgie and another woman in tow. “Nice to see you’re both still alive and unharmed.” I say to the three of them sarcastically.
“Coop,” is all I get in return from Georgie, who doesn’t look pleased that I am tagging along. I could laugh at the two newlyweds, but choose not to. Georgie looks like she might bite back.
I glance over at the cute woman who is hovering near Georgie’s side. “Who do we have here?” If I have to go shopping with these two, at least I can have some fun flirting, as I look her up and down.
“A happily married woman, so keep your eyes to yourself,” she bites back, showing me she is definitely one of Georgie’s friends. All spice and no nice.
“Yes ma’am.” I glance away, focusing on King instead as we stand there awkwardly.
“Coop is coming with us,” King sighs as he runs his hands through his hair, as though I am the reason he is sighing and not the woman standing next to him. Really dude? Like I want to be here.
“I thought you might need a buffer,” I say with a bit of a chuckle. “Though it looks like you found one yourself?” The woman, who is finally introduced to me as Cecily, Georgie’s best friend, shuffles next to me as we walk, pushing Georgie closer to King as she does.
“What’s your take on this little marriage?” She whispers as she looks at her surroundings.
“I give it another week,” I say, biting back a laugh. I am so skeptical of this entire sham.
We continue on our way, heading for the parking lot, as I catch sight of the two ‘lovebirds’ holding hands. I wonder if that is for show, or if they are both starting to let their gross feelings get in the way.
We perusethe shop as I fiddle with the little rings lining the shelves of the shop. Making my thoughts perfectly clear as to how stupid I think this idea is, King continues to browse the rings in front of him as I slip a little turtle ring onto the pinkie of my hand. “Why didn’t you just give her the ring you bought ten years ago? I know you still have it.” His eyes are wide with terror as his large hand covers my mouth and holds on tight as I struggle to get free.
“How do you know that?” He whispers under his breath as I continue to fight for freedom, and air.
“I don’t need to breathe. It’s fine.” My chest heaving with the exertion of getting free, confused as to why he cares if Georgie knows.
“Answer the question, Heyes.”
I roll my eyes at him as I respond. “Because I helped you move into your house, you moron.” I smooth out my shirt and push my hair out of my face, wiping my mouth off for good measure before continuing. “And I might have riffled through your underwear drawer a time or two.”
He makes a growling noise in his throat as he continues to look at rings. “Why do I put up with you?”
“Because you and I are the same, man. We’d be alone without each other.” I get a tad bit worried when he doesn’t agree, but quickly shrug it off.
“Still not interested in dating?”
I roll my eyes at his question. He knows the story, so why does he even bother asking?
“Why would I willingly subject myself to torture? I’ve got plenty to keep me occupied.” I tug at the ring on my finger as he asks me about my job and whether or not I’m sick of it.
“Do you ever get tired of flying tourists around?” King asks.
“Nah. Plus, I get to fly an irritating turtle nut around for a couple of weeks, which is going to be…,” I feel ill just thinking about it. “So much fun.” I tug at the ring again, and it is then that I realize the ring might not be coming off. A little bit of panic settles in.
“How’s your dad?”
I knew this was coming. He’s trying to get me to talk about ‘feelings’. Why does King always try to get me to talk about things I don’t want to talk about? I know he likes my dad. Heck, he practically grew up with the man. But that still doesn’t mean I want to talk about his cancer or his upcoming appointment, which I am secretly dreading.
“Nope.” I turn and walk away, trying everything in my power to not look him in the eyes and to get the darn thing off. Everything except for sticking my finger in my mouth. Hopefully the worker hasn’t noticed my predicament as I move away from the rest of the group. Maybe if I get it wet, it’ll slip right off. I head for the bathroom and move to the sink, running the water over my finger. I try to slide it off, but it doesn’t budge. I go back outside, standing near the back of the shop. Maybe if I jump up and down, it will help the ring come off? Worth a shot. I start jumping and accidentally jump into the hat rack behind me, one of the hat hangers jabbing me in the back. “Ow!” I yell as I continue to jump around, twisting and turning the stupid ring that won’t come off.
I notice Cecily walking toward me with a small bottle of lotion in her hands. If she wasn’t already married, I would kiss the girl. She hands it to me, and I squirt a blob of lotion on my now red and swollen pinkie. But the dang thing doesn’t budge. I walk up to the counter, and without another word, slap a $20 on the counter.
“But sir, what about your change?” The gal at the counter asks.
“Just keep it.” I hang my head as I exit the store, my finger throbbing as I look back through the door at Georgie and King. My best friend is inside buying a ring for his new wife. My friend is married. She had better leave, like she says she is going to, or the duo King and I have will become an uno, and I’m not sure I am okay with that.