Chapter 6
Chapter Six
Carson eyed the sprawling structure through his car window.
The Bowl & Roll on a Tuesday night. Oh, how the mighty had fallen.
If only he’d arrived a day later, he would’ve been too late for Matty’s party, and he could’ve gone about his business in Cloverfield peacefully.
He glanced at the faint barbecue stains on his shirt and rolled his eyes.
Slightly more peacefully. The run in with Liz was anything but peaceful.
Not that he was surprised. After all, they hadn’t parted on good terms. But she couldn’t seriously think anyone would believe there might still be something between them.
He snorted.
No. That ship sailed long ago. Then caught fire. And burned to a crisp.
Not like he cared what people thought. He didn’t live here anymore.
Okay. Maybe he cared what one person thought. Two, if he counted his uncle.
With one final dab at the lingering barbecue stains, he climbed out of his car and went inside.
After a few moments allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, Carson took stock of how much one of his old haunts had not changed.
The snack counter he’d always thought had the best nacho cheese sauce.
The wall of cubbies that divided the two side of the building with roller skates on one side and bowling shoes on the other.
The corner on the opposite side of the space that unofficially served as the gathering place for parties.
Which is where he spied the “Happy Half-Birthday” banner hanging above a cluster of people. A quick perusal identified Agnes standing next to a younger man a bit taller than her. Carson recognized him instantly.
He wasn’t prepared for the surge of joy he felt at seeing Matty. Hadn’t felt something like it for a long, long time.
Then again, he hadn’t felt the levels of irritation a certain someone brought out in him, either.
For the fiftieth time, he wondered what his uncle was thinking to ask both him and Liz to work on his business.
But that didn’t matter right now. What did matter was saying hi to Matty and figuring out how to explain to his childhood friend why he hadn’t contacted him in so long.
Assuming, of course, he found a good explanation other than that he was a self-centered jerk.
Although, as Carson followed the side of the rink around to the party corner, he figured maybe that was the truth.
“No. First we skate, and then it’s cake,” Matty explained to Agnes.
Carson felt a smile tug at his lips. Yep. Same old Matty. Bossing people around but in the nicest way possible. “Hey. Heard someone around here was having a party.”
Matty inched closer to Agnes and gave Carson a wary once over.
“You came!” Agnes clapped. Calling over to an older man Carson recognized as her husband, she said, “Zeb! Look who made it!”
The older man studied Carson for a moment before revealing his signature gap-toothed grin. “Well, well. Look at what the cat dragged in. Finally decided to come back home, huh?”
“Just for a few days. Uncle Arnold asked me to help with some stuff.”
“Car-man?” Matty’s face finally lit up with recognition. “Is that you? When did you get old?”
Carson scoffed at the words that were a direct hit to his ego. “Old? Who are you calling old?”
“You!” Matty disengaged from Agnes’s side and made a beeline for Carson, wrapping his arms around him and squeezing like a boa constrictor.
Geez. The guy was strong. Carson hugged him back, and for a moment it was more like one of their old wrestling sessions and less like a friendly hug.
Damn, he missed that.
Letting go almost as quickly as he invaded Carson’s personal space, Matty practically bounced on the balls of his feet. “It’s my half-birthday.”
“Yeah.” Carson jutted his chin toward the banner. “I can see that.”
“You’re gonna skate, right?”
“We’ll see.” Stopping in to see Matty was one thing. Strapping on a pair of the Bowl & Roll’s grody skates was another. Not that he couldn’t skate. Because he could. Hadn’t been much else to do growing up in small-town USA. Skate. Bowl. Get the hell out. But that had been years ago.
“What’s the matter? Too old?” An evil smile graced Matty’s usually innocent face.
Dammit. Matty still knew what buttons to push.
“Carson?”
Carson was relieved to turn his attention from Matty’s taunts to the man who stood next to him.
“Well, well. Will miracles never cease,” the man said.
About Carson’s height, he wore a John Deere baseball cap on his head, a few red-orange curls jutting out the sides. A combo Carson would recognize nearly anywhere. “Pete? Hey. What are you doing here?”
“Are you kidding me? I wouldn’t miss this shindig for the world.” He jutted his thumb at Matty. “This guy is my best mechanic. I’d never hear the end of it.”
Carson grinned. Not only was Matty smart and good with his hands, he was also irritatingly persistent when he wanted to be. “No shit.”
Matty’s hand jutted out toward Carson as if on auto pilot. “Dollar.”
“What?”
“One dollar, please.”
Carson looked between Pete and Matty, sure he’d missed something.
Pete smirked and nodded. “Pay the man.”
A woman with short, dark blonde curls sidled up next to Pete and grinned. “He’s gotten Pete to stop swearing. I love it.” She held out her hand. “I’m Vanessa. Pete’s better half.”
“Married for five years,” Pete added after they shook hands, wrapping an arm around Vanessa and placing a kiss on her temple.
Carson eyed his old schoolmate. “Well, didn’t you marry up.”
“Sure did,” Pete agreed.
Matty wriggled his fingers, reminding Carson of his unpaid debt. Giving Matty his best narrow-eyed stare, he pulled out his wallet and laid a five in Matty’s palm. “Consider me paid ahead.”
“It goes to a good cause,” Vanessa said as Matty carefully tucked the bill into his wallet. “Pizza party for the shop.”
“Can Car-man come?” Matty asked Pete.
Pete grinned. “Seeing as how he’s probably going to be the one to fund it, sure thing.”
A rogue emotion lodged itself in Carson’s midsection. “Aw, dude. Thanks. But I won’t be here.” Unless things with Crawford’s got bad and he spent more time in Cloverfield than he was planning. If that was the case, he would probably be able to fund a pizza party for the whole damn town.
Matty let out a sigh that could’ve blown out his half-birthday cake candles, had they been lit. “Okay.”
Dammit. Matty still knew where to land his blows. He was tugging at Carson’s heartstrings like a master puppeteer.
Looking up at him from beneath his eyelashes, Matty asked, “If you can’t come to a pizza party, will you at least skate with me?”
Ooh, he was good. While Matty may have looked innocent, Carson knew he was anything but.
He played him like that damned harmonica Matty got for Christmas that one year.
He somehow taught himself to play the entirety of Andrew Lloyd Webber’s greatest hits in one summer.
It had been both highly entertaining and extremely annoying.
With a sigh to rival Matty’s, Carson said, “Fine. But no hand holding.”
Matty smiled a smile that practically lit up their dingy corner of the rink. “Awesome!” Grabbing Carson’s hand, he tugged him toward the wall of skates. “But first, we need skates. Can’t feel the wind in your face without skates on your feet!”
“Dude. What did I just say about holding hands?” Despite his protest, Carson let himself be dragged away.
He gave a chuckling Pete and giggling Vanessa an incredulous look, but it was mostly for show.
Truth was, there was a part of Carson that had missed this.
Missed Matty. A decent-sized part he tried to pretend wasn’t as large as it really was.
He supposed it wouldn’t kill him to give in to that part while he was in town.
Especially since he wouldn’t be here long.
Matty hopped from one foot to the other, excitedly chattering about his day while they waited for their skates.
Once they were in hand, Carson nudged him toward a bench and barely managed to hold back his grin as they laced up their skates.
He’d forgotten how wound up Matty got sometimes.
Seemed like he was able to talk and breathe at the same time.
A trait that had only gotten more impressive with age.
“Take a breath, man,” Carson said.
Matty rolled his eyes but did as told, taking an exaggerated breath as he stared at Carson. “There. Happy?”
“Ecstatic.”
“Good. Then let’s roll.” Matty stood up and waited for Carson to do the same, keeping a watchful eye on him until they reached the edge of the wooden rink.
“What?” Carson asked. Not like he was going to run away. Not with these damn skates on, anyway.
“Just making sure you don’t fall.”
Carson snorted. “Please. Who was it who taught you to skate?” It was eons ago, but that had been both the most frustrating and one of the most rewarding summers of Carson’s life.
Matty had been terrified at first. But with a few lessons, he’d quickly gotten the hang of it.
Then he’d bugged the crap out of Carson to skate with him every weekend thereafter.
“Yeah, but you’re old now.”
“Geez. Again with the old thing? I’m only two years older than you.”
“Two and a half.” Matty shrugged. “In dog years, that’s more than twenty-four years.”
“I’m not a dog.”
“Yeah. But you’re still ancient.” With a grin, he stepped out into the rink. “Come on, Car-man. See if your creaky old bones can keep up.”
Carson narrowed his eyes as he stepped onto the wooden floor. Seriously. The guy was good. That was as carefully laid a trap as Carson had encountered in quite some time. Matty managed to hit the age button and the challenge button in one deft maneuver.
He’d show Matty old.
Within a matter of minutes, Carson’s body remembered what to do. How to handle the curves. How to maneuver around struggling skaters. How to feel the wind on his face.