Chapter 3. #2
“Don’t worry,” I assure her. “I won’t get myself stuck behind a counter for the summer.” Only behind a desk, apparently.
One that awaits me like a coffin in my dad’s new office.
My mom gives me a sudden hug. I freeze, taken aback by it. “I am so glad you’re home,” she whispers, rubbing my back. She puts a kiss on my cheek, pats my shoulders, and then takes a look at my outfit. “New shirt? Did you get it at college? I like the style.”
I glance down and realize it’s a shirt AJ got me. I totally forgot until my mom just asked. “Yeah, college,” I murmur absently.
“Can you be back by two at least? I’ll tell your father.”
Sounds like I’m not even getting the day. Just the morning. I figured I’d have at least a week, maybe two, to do what I wanted before the tractors started tractor-beaming me into my prison.
The back door opens and Bella steps inside, peeling off her gloves. “Ms. Cissy,” she calls out in her gentle, saccharine voice. “I noticed something in the flowerbeds. Can I show you?”
“Of course,” says my mom, heading to the door, but throwing, “See you this afternoon, sweetheart,” over her shoulder at me, of course assuming my agreement to being back by two before I’ve even uttered a word.
The winding road from the McPherson estate into Spruce isn’t long enough a drive for me to clear my head nor calm myself.
I’m tapping my fingers restlessly on the wheel, non-gas-petal-pushing foot bouncing in place, and I keep gnawing my lip like it’s candy.
I feel like I could use three round trips up north to campus and back to clear my head.
Maybe four, if no cops catch me speeding up the old country roads.
But all I’m allowed is the few miles into town before the cozy and familiar weatherworn-yet-charming shapes of cozy, family-owned storefronts swing into view.
The old movie theater. Spruce Fellowship Church, where it looks like maybe an early morning choir practice just wrapped up, judging from the faces outside hanging by the front steps.
I pass Patsy’s Pastries & Pies and the antique shop.
I have to worm my way around two big shipment trucks sitting in front of Hadley’s Hardware and Crafty Carson, half-blocking the way in.
I’m surprised to find some new building popping up in a lot near the end of Apricot Street.
A new grocery store, maybe? I miss the sign.
The Strong Fitness Zone is a bit of a ghost town this morning, surprisingly, for being the start of a weekend.
I can’t remember if high school is still in session for another week or two, or if that has anything to do with it.
Maybe Jimmy and Bobby’s clientele are mostly teens? I’ll ask them later.
Then suddenly I’m slid into a spot on Main Street a block from T&S’s Sweet Shoppe—I like giving myself a walk, and it lets actual customers park closer—and I’ve shut off the car.
I rest my head back and pretend to seek peace of mind, hands still on the wheel for whatever reason.
I listen to the muffled whooshing of the hot summer air outside.
A distant car horn. A man calling for someone far away.
The playful grunts of a truck engine coming to life. Some woman’s laughter, a little closer.
I don’t hate Spruce. I don’t hate Spruce at all.
I owe this place everything. My cushy life. My friends. All the support this town has given me since I was a kid and didn’t know better. The world outside held no interest to me. Why would it? It was so peaceful here. Nothing ever happened.
Maybe that’s the problem.
Tap-tap-tap on my window. I pop my eyes open—when’d I close them?—and turn. Billy Tucker-Strong himself stands there with his kind eyes on mine, fingers wiggling at me in greeting.
I come alive and get out of the car. “Hi, Mr. Billy!”
“Didn’t mean to interrupt your midmorning meditation,” he teases. “Just walking past on my way back from Biggie’s and saw your car! Didn’t expect you back in town already, Teej.”
I shake his hand and smile. “Was getting a little antsy being cooped up at home. Figured I’d drop in and see if I could help out, but I know you’re probably swamped with new applicants …”
“Actually …” Billy grimaces and leans in.
“I’m a bit short on help, if you can believe it.
Everyone’s going to my brother-in-law’s gym or out to Fairview for jobs, of all places.
They opened some big mega games center everyone’s going crazy about—bowling alley, food court, movie theater, laser tag …
it’s a whole mega plex thing. I’m lucky if I get one eligible worker from this summer’s batch. ”
I’m on it at once. “Of course I can help out.”
“I know you’re not the sixteen-year-old you once were,” he goes on.
“You’re not just a kid who wants extra cash anymore, I get it.
” He sighs and chuckles at the same time.
“I can’t help but look at you and still see the bright-eyed teenager who pops in at any hour I need him.
I’m sure you’ve got better things to do with your summer than scoop ice cream and give away extra toppings. ”
I’m about to insist yet again that I’m totally available, then stop. “Wait. You know about the extra toppings?”
“I know everything.” He winks.
For half a heartbeat, I wonder if that comment is just about the toppings.
Perhaps I forgot to mention a key detail about Spruce, Texas.
No one here knows I’m gay.
Well, not for sure, at least. Considering how many gay couples this stunning singular small town has lassoed together and how hot and deeply the gossip train runs around here, it wouldn’t be much of a surprise at all if I came out.
I’m certain there’s a club of ladies at the church placing bets on whose team I play for.
Nadine Strong herself is probably chomping at the bit, ready to play that matchmaker game she so desperately needs to give up.
Oh. I just remembered I told Cole Harding last year.
Fine, one person knows for sure. But no one other than him. Oh, and my banana plushie named Banano I’ve had since I was six and a half and no one even knows exists.
“And it’s fine with me,” Billy insists, “just as long as it keeps bringin’ in those loyal, lovin’ customers.”
Present thoughts considered, I have to think for a hot second before realizing he is talking about the giving-out-extra-toppings thing and not actually implying that my semi-secret gayness is a customer draw. “Thank you for your forgiveness.”
“Oh, did I forgive you?” he teases, then nudges me in the ribs.
“Kidding. So you’re free to help out? I just got this new POS system installed last week.
Jimmy and Bobby use it over at their Fitness Zone and …
I cannot get my head around it. Startin’ to think POS stands for piece-of-shit, not point-of-sale.
Swear I feel a hundred years old and I’m barely thirty. ”
I frown. “Aren’t you thirty-two?”
“And in denial. Good to have you back, Teej.” He struts away humming a tune, then peers over his shoulder. “You coming?”
I see my mom’s disapproving stare. Hear her questioning tone of voice. Feel the stifling spot in my dad’s office I haven’t seen yet.
The next second, I’m jogging after him, and together, we head across the street and into the charming T&S’s, where I welcome its sugary aromas that are as familiar to me as home.
After playing around with it for a literal minute, I figure out Billy’s POS system, get him up to speed (comparing it to making playlists on Spotify, of all things), and make suggestions on how to organize the POS to make it easier to ring up customers.
Billy spills an idea he has for rearranging the layout of the store, which I’m totally onboard with after a teensy adjustment to the lighting.
“What would I do without you?” he asks. “You’re brilliant! ”
“You almost did do without me,” I point out as I reach for the cup of sampling spoons on the counter—and realize I did not mean for that to slip out.
Then I go and tip over said cup all over the floor.
“For the love of licorice!” I curse at myself, then come around to clean up my mess, muttering, “Sorry, sorry, sorry.” I hate wasting things, even tiny sampling spoons. Some went under the counter.
Billy crouches down next to me a moment later to help. “Um, what’d you mean by that?”
“By what?” I ask. “I hate licorice, but want to love it someday, so I’m sorta training myself to not be so quick to dismiss—”
“Not that. The other thing. Were you not planning on comin’ home this summer?”
“I … I wasn’t meaning …” I start to laugh uncomfortably. Why am I laughing uncomfortably? I never laugh uncomfortably. “I was just … my dad, uh …” I stretch an arm underneath the counter.
“Did you have other plans? Do your parents need you?”
I rise up so fast, I bonk my head. “Ouch! No.” I emerge with three dusty spoons wormed between my fingers, rubbing the back of my head with my other hand.
“They don’t need me. I’m a big boy, y’know?
I can do … I can do what I want with my summer.
It’s my summer, after all. Didn’t I earn a summer?
They’re just fine. Business is all fine.
Dad’s fine. Mom’s fine. I’m totally fucking fine. ”
Billy stares back at me unblinkingly. Did I just do that thing where I talk at the speed of light and my voice cracks eight times?
Oh. I just cussed. At Billy.
“It was a road trip thing,” I confess, my voice losing all speed, losing all trace of defensiveness, barricades collapsing. “I planned a month-and-a-half-long trip with my bestie on campus. And he … kinda went without me. Sorta. To pursue a girl. It’s complicated.”
“That sounds crummy for a so-called bestie to do to you.”