3. Wade
3
WADE
“Dalton, could you take a look at Mrs. Kline’s Miata first thing? She needs it by this afternoon to take her mother to bingo.”
“You got it boss.”
The bearded and tatted twenty-two-year-old had come down ten minutes before the shop opened, washed all the cups in the break room sink and brewed a fresh pot of coffee before clocking in. He’d already proven himself to be a hard worker, but he was so grateful to be living in my old place upstairs that he practically tripped over himself to make my life easier.
Unlike my two older mechanics, who were ambling in the back door right before the garage officially opened, clutching their matching insulated cups like life preservers. Bob and Oscar were more likely to give me good-natured shit than free labor, which was fine since they worked their asses off while they were doing it.
I paused and ducked my head out from under the Silverado’s hood to observe as they stopped to lightly haze the young newbie for being a kiss-ass. When Dalton smiled and flipped them off, I nodded and went back to work.
Yeah, he was fitting in fine .
It was August Retta I was worried about.
I couldn’t sleep, so I’d been here before the sun came up, trying to figure out the billing program my niece had installed before giving that up and starting on this ticket. I needed to clear my head and think, and this was the only place I could do that.
August’s CRV was already repaired and parked behind the four-bay garage, waiting to be picked up, though I hadn’t made the call yet. The entire time I worked on it, her vulnerable expression at the airport invaded my thoughts. She’d been sad about her sister leaving, eyes shimmering with unshed tears as she stared at those departure doors. But it was more than that. I could almost feel her desire to run. To hop on a plane and leave her car and the rest of us behind. Since she still wasn’t talking to me, I’d had the entire drive back to her place to gnaw on that bone.
I still couldn’t get it out of my head.
“As promised, breakfast has arrived.”
I pushed off the engine when my old buddy Kingston strode into the garage in expensive jeans and a designer T-shirt, two large grease-spotted sacks in one hand and a drink carrier full of orange juice in the other. He handed one bag off to Dalton and was preparing to toss the other to me when I held up my grimy hands.
“Need to clean up first,” I told him.
I’d been in the middle of replacing a couple of broken exhaust manifold bolts, but the pickup obviously had an oil leak somewhere too because the whole engine was coated with dirty black gunk. I’d wash it out with degreaser and track down the leak later.
Walking over to the sink, I did a quick scrub, drying off with a couple of blue shop towels. The men were already eating where they stood, but I felt like getting some air so I jerked my head toward the back door and Kingston followed me out to our unofficial break area—a picnic table on a tiny patch of mostly dead grass beneath a big old oak tree. It was still early enough to be almost cool out, though it promised to be another brutal day.
When we were settled at the table with two ice-filled juices and a small pile of sausage-and-cheese breakfast sandwiches between us, I gave him a look. “I thought you said you were bringing us egg white omelets with spinach and feta this morning.”
“I was weak,” he said unapologetically. “And finding healthy takeout isn’t as easy here as it is in New York.”
“I suppose that’s true.”
I didn’t know it firsthand since I’d never been, but Kingston had lived there for years. Tall, confident and sexually adventurous, the Black filmmaker no doubt fit right in there. He made documentaries on subjects like the plight of the homeless, or Big Ag and the evils of high fructose corn syrup. Now he was back to guest lecture at U of H for a few semesters in the land of all things fried and barbecued.
“Morgan’s in Italy by now.”
I nodded while I finished chewing.
“How’s she been doing with all that?”
I shrugged and took a swig of my juice. “You know her. She’s not big into sharing her feelings until she’s got them figured out. This trip should give her a chance to do that.”
She hadn’t wanted to talk about her mom at all after the memorial.
Kingston and I had been friends with Morgan for the same amount of time, since I’d known him from the first grade on, and he’d met the Rettas twenty-four hours after I did. He’d had it bad for her for about six months, but after she’d turned him down on the same day a cheerleader asked him out, he’d been fine settling for friendship instead. Besides Morgan, he’d always been my closest friend. Not that I ever had as many as he did.
In high school, he was voted most popular. Class clown. Sexiest AV club member. “Hollywood Haywood,” they’d called him. Most likely to be a famous director or the first openly bisexual president of the United States.
They were right about the fame part. He was more than well-known now. Like August, only with films instead of fantasy books. She built worlds out of thin air and my wildest dreams, and he showed a harsh reality that was painful but necessary to know. It hadn’t surprised me that they’d both found their way to entertainment hubs on opposite ends of the country while I stayed right here in the center where I’d always been. What was s urprising was that they’d both come back for longer than a short and sweet holiday visit.
“It’s been two years of this, right?”
I didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Almost. The consulate shit got complicated and then they had to save up to pay for the flights and the cruise. Luckily, they have a friend there, so there wasn’t a time limit or anything.”
“I don’t mean to come off like a callous ass.” Kingston frowned thoughtfully. “Sam was the best. She introduced me to her connections, was always there when I needed advice, and I’m not blowing smoke when I say I wouldn’t be where I am without her. I was just thinking it’s been almost two years since her celebration of life, and this must be bringing it all up again for both of her daughters.”
Was that what was going on with August? Maybe. Morgan had mentioned money being tight as the reason she’d backed out of the trip, so that probably wasn’t helping either. They hadn’t even gone out to celebrate August’s birthday this year, which I was sure they’d do, since they’d skipped last year’s because she was sick. I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing something.
“That was a great sendoff, wasn’t it?” Kingston was saying. “Good food. Good music. Little August making two memorial videos and having a live feed for friends who couldn’t be there. I’d say she could have followed her mom into the business, but after hearing that eulogy she wrote, I think she made the right career choice. I’ve never been that inspired to do more with my life while wanting to cut my heart out at the same time.”
“Same here.”
“I wish I’d said yes more often.”
That was the line that stuck with me most, though everything about her speech had been unforgettable. So had the backyard, which August and Morgan had transformed for the occasion. The crowded tables surrounding the pool, each covered in turquoise linen and topped with a glass bowl filled with sand, seashells and white candles. The shining memorial cards fluttering on colorful ribbons in trees glowing with fairy lights. The stories. The laughter. The way Morgan and August ended up floating fully dressed in the pool at the end of the night, arms wrapped around each other as they listened to Sam’s favorite songs.
I’d sat there all evening. Watching, listening and grieving. And wondering if there was anything in particular August was wishing she’d said yes to.
“Now even with all that,” Kingston went on. “it’s still not finished yet. If I had to deal with that with my folks? That staggered grieving? Waiting that long for closure? It would fuck with my head. I’m not sure how Morgan’s done it.”
“Yeah.” I was more than ready to change the heavy topic to something less depressing. “So, what did you really want to talk about?”
“A man can’t bring breakfast to his friend without hidden motivations?”
“Sure. It makes perfect sense that you were dying to eat fast food behind my garage during the hottest month of the year.”
Kingston dropped his coy act and leaned in, his brown eyes lasering into me. “Okay, fine. I want to know why you haven’t jumped at my offer yet. You’ve been on your sister’s couch bed for a week and I’m sure Bernie’s driving you insane. Why wouldn’t you want to stay in my guest room until you find a new place? It’s giving me a complex. Plus, my townhouse is surrounded by great views, if you know what I mean. There’s a pair of single ladies I’ve already got my eye on with you in mind.”
Sighing, I polished off my sandwich and wadded up the wrapper before stuffing it into the bag. I should have known he wouldn’t be satisfied with an “I’ll think about it.”
Oscar came around the other side of the building with a biscuit in hand, headed for the shed where our new mascot had taken up residence a few days ago. The red-coated Lab was shy, though obviously not starving, and the other mechanics had taken a liking to her, so I’d let her stay for now. Though we should get a vet out to see if she was chipped and healthy.
“I appreciate the offer,” I finally said, “but I have a feeling I’d cramp your style. I’m older and set in my ways now. And since Phoebe’s taking time off for the next month, I’m left doing all the paperwork for the garage, the yoga studio and the icehouse. Not to mention trying to cover her shifts and looking for a temporary manager at the place. I don’t have the extra energy for anything but sleep lately. I’m not good wingman material anymore.”
“You’re the one that needs a wingman,” Kingston said matter-of-factly. “I do fine on my own, even as a boring college professor. I can’t believe I left all those black-tie affairs and red carpets behind to hang out with you, my oldest friend with no sex life who’s refusing my offer of free room and board.”
“You didn’t come back for me, but if it makes you feel any better, I turned Morgan down too. She’s in another country, and I still said no.”
Mostly because I hadn’t wanted to deal with her dogs. Tilly and Angus shed on everything, barked at nothing and liked to poke people in inappropriate places with their invasively long snouts. Every time I thought about getting a dog to go with the new house I was searching for, memories of those two expensively bred furballs made me hesitate.
I glanced over at the Lab again. She was quiet and sweet. That could work.
August had a quiet dog too. He wasn’t sweet, but he liked me. It was more than I could say for his current caretaker, though that was my fault because of the way I’d treated her when she first came back to town.
“So, it’s not only me you’re rejecting,” Kingston said in a speculative tone. “You’re just a picky old bastard who deserves your sister’s sleeper sofa?”
He wasn’t buying it, but I could hardly explain something I didn’t understand myself. I would be more comfortable in his guest room, and my back would certainly thank me for getting the hell off Bernie’s couch. I missed my California king, the one currently in storage, with its special cooling layer that was exactly the right firmness for my back. As many years as I’d been bent over or flat underneath a vehicle, some things were too important to skimp on, but it was gone until I found a place to settle down. And my gut was telling me I needed to hold off on making any big decisions on that score right now.
I couldn’t focus on anything else until I knew what was going on with August.
Which made me a crazy, picky old bastard who deserved his sister’s sleeper sofa. I might need my head examined. But before I did that, I needed to give my niece a raise as soon as she got back to work. I hadn’t realized how much she did, or that her decision to rest up and keep her blood pressure low enough for a home birth would be such a pain in my ass. Maybe I should find out how good Dalton was with computers. I wasn’t lying when I said I was exhausted.
I raised my orange juice in a mock toast. “Here’s to picky old bastards and their nosy old friends. ”
He snorted and returned the gesture, but before I could take a drink, my phone buzzed.
Setting my cup down, I pulled my phone out of my pocket and saw a text from Phoebe. Just her, not the prolific Roomies group chat her mother had started a week ago. I needed to figure out how to end the nonstop notifications from that before I lost my mind.
“Great timing,” I mumbled, poking it open with my thumb.
Phoebe: Did you turn off the app, Uncle Wade?
Me: No?
Phoebe: Have you checked it recently? Because I saw a rental yesterday afternoon that you might be interested in. I kept waiting for you to mention it so we could talk about it, but you haven’t and it’s driving me nuts. Don’t make me get off my princess cushions to drive over there myself. I can’t believe she didn’t tell me.
“What’s going on?” Kingston asked.
“I don’t know. Phoebe set me up on an app?—”
“A dating app? Thank God. I didn’t want your sad, set-in-your-ways old bachelor energy to start rubbing off on me.”
“It’s a real estate app, jackass.” She’d signed me up to look for a house to purchase, so why was she trying to get me to look at a rental? Was she as ready for me to move out as I was?
Sure enough, there was a little red “1” on the app icon. When I opened it to check out the latest listing in my area, I almost knocked over my drink as I shot to my feet. “What the hell?”
I knew those pictures. I’d been in those rooms.
That was Sam Retta’s apartment. August’s apartment.
Kingston grabbed my hand and turned the screen toward him. “Nice place. A little girly. Is it in Galveston? Considering the décor, I’m assuming it’s on the beach.” His eyes narrowed. “Why does that living room look familiar?”
I took my hand back and scrolled through the description with my heart fumbling around in my chest. What the hell was August up to?
Not a few months ago, Morgan and Gene were bemoaning the fact that she’d refused to even consider renting out the poolside mother-in-law apartment. They would have told me if she’d changed her mind. Which meant they didn’t know.
The listing date was yesterday. The day they’d flown to Italy.
“Mid-term renters only. The fully furnished apartment is only available for the next five months max. Non-negotiable.”
What happened after those five months? I had a sinking feeling I already knew.
My phone buzzed in my hand.
Phoebe: Did you see it?!
Me: You didn’t know she was doing this?
Phoebe: I called her last night and she didn’t say a word. Why wouldn’t she tell me? I’m her favorite. Should we worry? Circle the wagons? Tell Mom?
Me: No. Don’t tell anyone, especially your mom. I’ll look into it today.
“I’ve never seen you text that much in my life,” Kingston declared. “What’s going on?”
I sat down again, lifting my cap long enough to run a hand through my hair. “August put Sam’s old apartment up for rent.”
“Ah, that’s why I recognized that furniture. And we’re looking like we might be having a stroke about that…why?”
“I don’t know,” I said impatiently. “For the last year, she’s been avoiding company and not leaving her house, but now she’s suddenly okay with letting strangers do walkthroughs? She could be having a money emergency she doesn’t want her sister to know about. But if she is, it’s one she thinks she can solve in five months.” And when that time elapsed, she could decide to sell and leave again for good.
Kingston gave it a beat before saying, “Do you think you might be reading too much into this without having all the facts? She could be trying it out on a temporary basis first, you know? Not getting locked into a year lease with some loser that gives her trouble and doesn’t pay their rent.”
What would she do if that happened? Let them squat indefinitely while she paid for their utilities? Because she’d included utilities in the rent price. It was a steal that someone would snap up in an instant.
I’d known something was up with her.
“You’re right.” I got to my feet again. “I have to get all the details before coming to any conclusions.”
I walked back into the garage. “Hey Dalton, I need the Honda on the tow truck. I’m taking it back myself.”
The eyes over his impressive beard widened. “You don’t want me to call and have them pick it up?”
“Friend of the family,” I barked. Then I sighed. It wasn’t his fault I wanted to get on the road yesterday, if not sooner. “Never mind, I’ve got it.”
“Right, boss.”
“Wade, wait a minute,” Kingston said, trailing after me as I ducked into the office for the keys to both vehicles and then headed out back again.
I ignored him because I didn’t want to wait. She’d put it online yesterday, early afternoon. She could have offers by now. Hell, her address was right there for anyone to see. She could have unwanted visitors, looking to beat out the competition for an early viewing .
Had she thought any of this through? I looked down at my phone again. She was asking for a deposit but not renter’s insurance. She didn’t have a pet deposit listed, but she hadn’t said no to pets. That apartment was literally in her backyard. Did she realize she wouldn’t be able to let the dog out or go for a swim without her renter knowing about it? Was she ready for that kind of invasion?
“Wade.”
“What?” I growled, turning to look at him before realizing I’d overreacted. Again. “Thanks for breakfast, but I think I need to go take care of this.”
“Take care of what?” Kingston asked, looking bewildered. “She’s a woman in her forties renting an apartment on her own property. And she’s Morgan’s sister, not yours. This doesn’t seem like it’s any of our business. I’m not sure why you’re getting worked up about it.”
I was very aware that she wasn’t my sister, but instead of responding, I climbed into the truck, rolled down the windows to cool it off and cranked the engine. After using the remote to unfold and lower the boom, I backed over in front of August’s car, extending it carefully until it met the front tires. Then I locked the claws and raised the CRV’s front end off the ground.
When I got out and put on my gloves to strap the front wheels down, Kingston walked over to stand by the car. He was watching me with his head tilted to one side, as though trying to see things from another angle. It was a habit I hated, since he usually saw way too much.
“No way,” he finally said, crossing his arms. “No fucking way. That was years ago, Wade. You were rebounding from your ex and drinking that night. Hell, even I noticed how good August looked in that dress, and she’s never been my type.”
He was talking about Morgan’s wedding, I thought as I hooked the D-ring into the claw and looped the strap behind the wheel. The wedding, and my drunken confession to my old friend when it was over. What he didn’t know was that it had really started years earlier at Sam’s.
Write it on my tombstone. Those fucking Retta weddings were this man’s downfall.
Sam’s “late to the party” wedding trip to Cancun was the first and only time I’d ever been on a cruise. She was married on the beach when we hit port, with her daughters handing out kazoos to friends and family to serenade the fifty-somethings up the sandy aisle.
That day, August’s curls were loose and wild, and she’d really worked her toy instrument as my sister sang an Otis Redding song about being made for each other. She was so vibrantly alive, I couldn’t stop staring at her. I’d even captured the moment with one of the disposable cameras they’d passed out along with the kazoos—which was uncomfortable, since I’d recently decided to have a quiet civil ceremony with the woman I was dating back home. I’d told myself it was only because, for the first time in years, I was seeing Gus in person instead of as a grainy image in one of her mother’s newsletters. That what I was feeling was simple nostalgia for the little bookworm who used to follow me around.
Morgan and Gene’s wedding a few years later had blown that theory out of the water.
I was the Bride’s Man and she was the Maid of Honor at the backyard gathering. It might sound like a line, but as soon as I saw August walking toward me in her silky wraparound dress, I swear fucking bells started clanging in my head.
Gone forever was the gawky pre-teen. In her place was a ripe, luscious beauty in her late twenties that I barely knew, with breasts that almost made this southern man cry. She was focused on her sister, but all I could see was her.
Of course, the timing was off again. Not only was I taking time off from dating while recovering from the shame of divorcing after less than a year of marriage, but August had a new boyfriend who Morgan thought might be “the one.”
So that was that. She wasn’t local or available, and I wasn’t the type to force a square peg into a round hole.
“You never did anything about it though, right?” Kingston asked curiously when I moved around to strap down the passenger side wheel. “You and she never…?”
“No. We never did.” I regretted it more often than I wanted to admit.
For years after that, I hadn’t seen her for longer than a family dinner on her rare weekend visits, though she’d come more often when Gene was recovering from his surgery and going through chemo. When she moved back here four years ago this summer, my desire had come roaring back with her, as if it had been waiting for her to make a more permanent appearance. But she’d been nursing wounds from a bad breakup. Sam and Morgan hadn’t told me much, only that the long-term relationship had ended badly, and that it might be a while before she was ready for another.
More of our shitty fucking timing.
For a while there, it pissed me off. Wanting something I couldn’t have was never my style. I told myself she wouldn’t last a year before leaving again, not when six months in, she was already traveling to do publicity for her latest book and visiting her friends in California.
Her life was too big for the ordinary one I lived. She would move on eventually, and I would still be here. What I felt about her, what I thought we could have together, wouldn’t change that outcome. And because I couldn’t avoid her until she disappeared again, I’d done the only thing I could think of to maintain my sanity.
I’d been a dick.
Growing up surrounded by women, I had the inside track on how they felt about that kind of bullshit behavior. But I was still a man, and something about August brought out a side of me I wasn’t proud of. The behavior made me feel like shit and she didn’t deserve it, but by the time I pulled my head out of my ass, the damage was done. She never gave me the chance to apologize, and I never pushed, because I didn’t blame her.
Then Sam went to Italy and everything really went to hell.
Not that long ago, after one too many beers, I’d decided I needed to accept that if August and I had ever had a chance, we’d well and truly missed it.
Yet here I was again, twisting myself into knots over the woman. Living proof that age really didn’t guarantee a damn thing.
“You turned Morgan down,” Kingston said, trying—and failing—to fight his smirk. “You turned me down, and both our offers were free of charge. Would I be wrong in thinking you’re going to be shelling out money to rent an apartment today, Wade?”
It wasn’t the worst idea. But I couldn’t consider it until I talked to her and found out where her head was at.
“We’ll see where the day takes me,” I said as I slapped the tow light on top of the car and pulled off my gloves.
Kingston guffawed. “That is the least Wade Hudson statement I’ve ever heard, and this might be the most impulsive thing you’ve ever done.”
Considering how I was feeling at the moment? It probably wouldn’t be the last.