5. Maggie #3
“She’s waiting for you,” he said on a laugh.
“She always did, after every date I ever went on in college.”
“Can I come up and give her a hug for being such a good friend to you?” he asked.
“Oh, please, make her day. Come on.”
Jo Ellen was on the couch in her flamingo robe, with the late news on at low volume and her evening herbal tea steaming from a mug.
“Oh, you’re home, hi, you’re home, hello,” she stuttered as they walked in.
“Do not pretend,” Maggie said.
“I was watching TV.”
“You were lying in wait.”
Brick stepped in behind Maggie, ducking his head slightly under the doorframe, and Jo Ellen lit up like a slot machine.
“Oh, hello, Brick!”
“Hey, Jo.”
She was up in a flash. “Come here, come sit down. I’ll get you something cold. A beer?”
“We don’t have beer, Jo.”
“Well, we should.”
“Just a water,” Brick said, easing into one of the chairs and looking around. “This place is perfect for you two.”
“We love it,” Jo Ellen cooed, then glanced at the TV. “But I hope it doesn’t blow away in this storm.”
“Any update?” Brick asked, getting comfortable.
“It’s a category two now, officially in the Gulf, with all manner of spaghetti noodles as possible directions.”
“Do you have evacuation plans?” he asked.
“Eli will,” Maggie said. “My son will get us out to a hotel, I imagine.” She made a face. “Not one I’ll like, I’m sure.”
“Hotel, schmotel,” Brick said. “You two should come back to Gator Jack’s.”
“Oh!” Jo Ellen brightened at the memory of the quintessential dive bar where they’d stayed overnight when the truck they’d been driving broke down. “What a wonderful night we had there! Remember the jukebox and that sweet bartender with pink hair, Mags?”
“Charlene,” Brick said. “She texted Angel and said she’s open for a hurricane party. All-nighter, dancing, drinking, hunkerin’ down. She’ll cook for forty. They got generators for days, full shutters, and it’s inland enough to be safe. Spend the storm with us there.”
Maggie opened her mouth to tell him that was purely preposterous, but Jo Ellen clapped like a three-year-old who’d been offered ice cream.
“Oh, yes! Mags, we have to. We absolutely have to.”
“We absolutely do not have to and will not, so let it go, Jo Ellen. There will be no hurricane party at Gator Jack’s.”
Brick snorted…as if he doubted her.
“I mean it,” she added.
Jo Ellen stood and yanked the belt of her silly robe even tighter. “Maggie Lawson, I have lived seventy-eight years on this earth and I have never been to a hurricane party. I heard they’re fun!”
“So’s skydiving. That doesn’t mean we’re doing it.”
“Well, I am,” she said. “Can I, Brick?”
“She ain’t your mother. You come and we’ll dance and Mags will miss all the fun.”
Maggie looked from one to the other, the old feeling rising up when one of her kids dared to disobey or disagree. Rare, but it had happened, and it rankled.
“We will go where Eli tells us to go.”
“You will go where Eli tells you to go,” Jo Ellen fired back. “I’m going with Brick.”
“Jo.”
“Mags.”
Brick watched the exchange with open amusement. Then he said, “It’s an open invitation. You bring whoever. Eli, too. Plenty of room. It’s safe and smart and we’ll have power all night, and it’s not a hotel.”
“It’s a flophouse,” Maggie said.
“Suit yourself, Mags.” Brick stood slowly. “I’ll let you ladies get to bed. Jo, you want me to—”
“Okay.” The word came out of Maggie’s mouth like she was possessed.
Did she just say okay?
They both looked at her for a split second as if they were thinking the same thing.
“Oh! I’m so excited!” Jo Ellen exclaimed. “I’m going to go figure out what to wear right now. We’ll dance and laugh and have so much fun we won’t even know there’s a storm outside.”
“You’ll know,” he said. “But you’ll be safe with me.”
“Night, Brick!” Jo Ellen practically floated to her room.
Maggie closed her eyes and pushed up, walking Brick to the door.
For a moment, they didn’t speak, but under his wiry gray beard, his smile grew. “You’re a good friend.”
“To you?”
“To her,” he whispered. “I know why you said yes.”
Did he? She wasn’t even sure, but after a quick hug goodbye when he left, she walked to Jo’s room, finding her humming as she brushed her hair.
“Did you have a fun date?” Jo Ellen asked, looking up at Maggie.
“We did. We’re friends.”
“Oh, sure.” She dragged out the words.
“We are,” Maggie insisted, taking a step closer and seeing Jo Ellen in the light of the sweet stories she’d shared earlier. “You and me,” she clarified. “The best of friends.”
Jo Ellen gave her a strange look, but it slid into a grin. “Yes we are, Mags. And we’re going to a hurricane party!”
On that note, Maggie walked back into the living room and heard the rumble of a Harley. Peeking out the window, she watched him adjust his helmet and get comfortable in the seat with the ease of a man who’d made the moves five thousand times.
Leaning her head against the glass, she took a slow breath.
Friends.
He made it seem easy.
Just as he revved up the bike to leave, he turned, looked up at the window, and blew a kiss.