Chapter 3 #3
With the to-go carton in hand, Demetrius headed for the door, taking the opportunity to check out the tourists.
He saw two couples, maybe late thirties or early forties, all wearing shorts, hiking boots, and souvenir t-shirts from one of the shops in town—Paranormal Paraphernalia, perhaps, or Cryptid Keepsakes, or even The Purple Orchid.
They were laughing and talking together, taking selfies and planning out their trip, and Demetrius wondered if their group would ever get the chance to act that way.
Outside, the heat dropped over him like a blanket fresh from a hot dryer. By the time he’d reached the truck, his shirt was once again stuck to his back. He sat in the truck until the AC had cooled, then called Cody as he backed out of his space and headed for the office.
After a couple of rings, Cody answered with a low and sexy, “Hi.”
Demetrius caught himself smiling like a love-struck teen. “Hi. How’s the job?”
“Just about to wrap it up. Where are you?”
“Heading to the office after a surprise lunch with Lucia and Gayle.”
“Uh oh. You get a ticket, an invitation to go to the station, or a stern talking to?”
“Just the talking to this time. But she did agree with me about something.”
“Did you say ‘nix’ to her to make sure she’s not a shape-shifter?”
Demetrius laughed, but it felt a bit brittle in his throat. “No, I didn’t. Next time I see her.”
“Gotta be careful.” Cody’s next words were said away from the phone, apparently directed at Jugs. “I don’t care how sweaty your collar is, leave it on. Your appointment’s not until tomorrow.” He said into the phone in a lower voice, “Kids these days.”
“They’re so willful. Will I see you at the office?”
“Once I get Jugs to move his ass, yeah.”
“Good.”
They ended the call, and Demetrius drove past the strip mall where their office was, headed for Ike’s Market. Instead of going out to dinner tonight, he’d pick up something from Paul, the butcher at the market, to make for them at home.
Inside, he grabbed a hand basket and roamed the aisles, adding items before approaching the meat counter.
Paul, as tall as Cody and big across the shoulders but with a prominent belly, was in his fifties and had once played football for their high school.
Demetrius recalled seeing him at most of Cody’s home games, and when they shopped together, Paul would always bring up one of Cody’s better plays.
At the moment, Paul was talking with a young couple about grilling times.
Demetrius eyed the meat in the display case.
The length and girth of the tenderloins made him think of Cody.
“Hi, Demetrius,” Paul said, smiling as he came toward him. “What can I get for you?”
“Not sure. Something easy but higher level.”
Paul grinned. “Planning a special night for that linebacker of yours?”
“Something like that.”
“How about filet mignon? It’s a quick cooking time and melts in your mouth.”
“Sounds great.”
Paul selected the cuts and wrapped them up. “How’s business?”
“Pretty steady. How about here?”
Paul smiled as he passed the meat over the counter. Demetrius managed not to gasp when he caught sight of the price, but just barely.
“Business is booming. All these tourists staying in Airbnbs want to cook for themselves, so they come to me and ask for advice.” He shrugged. “It’s good to see the town prospering.”
“It is,” Demetrius said, and didn’t add too bad so many people had to die for it. He took the meat and said, “Thanks again,” then headed for the checkout.
The cashier was a woman who had been a year or two ahead of them in high school, Annie Wilkerson. She had shoulder-length curly hair held back from her face by a scarf tied into a big bow that flopped to one side of her head. Was Madonna’s 80s style coming back?
“Hi,” Demetrius said.
She gave him a flicker of a smile as she started scanning his items. While she worked, Demetrius thought back on the time he had built Cody up to approach Annie for a date. Her laugh had been audible all the way across the cafeteria. Annie had always preferred the bad boys.
Annie had had a twin brother, Andy. Even though Andy had been a grade ahead, he’d been in Demetrius’s Geometry class, and Demetrius remembered him as a nervous, twitchy kid.
He’d identified with Andy, always having been painfully aware that, if not for Cody’s friendship, he might have ended up as nervous and withdrawn as Andy.
He’d attempted conversation with him a couple of times, but Andy hadn’t seemed to know how to act about his attention—the rumors were rampant, after all, about Demetrius being a fag—so Demetrius had abandoned the effort.
Annie’s announcement of his total brought him out of his reverie. As he fished a credit card from his wallet, Annie rested a hip against the conveyor belt and studied her nails. Dark circles ringed her eyes, and the edge of a hickey was peeking up over the collar of her denim shirt.
It appeared Annie still liked the bad boys.
He paid, nodded to Annie, who still hadn’t made eye contact, and headed for the truck. Small towns…where would the country be without them?