The Other P-Word(40)

"A Prayer for Owen Meany?"

"Yeah, he was the one who recommended it to me. I did finish it on that  vacation. I fell asleep near the tide. When I woke up, the book was out  to sea." He winked at me. "Don't tell Arty."

I did a ‘zip the lip and throw away the key' motion. "I promise."

"My brother's dream was to go to West Point. He wanted more than anything to serve our county like my dad did."                       
       
           



       

"Your dad was in the military?"

"You didn't see the dog tags in the box?"

I shook my head.

"Yeah, he served in the middle east for two deployments. He never  pressured us to join, but Owen was all about it. He idolized our dad. I  never told Owen how much I loved and respected him. He may have been two  years younger, but he was my hero, all the same."

"I'm sure he knew that, Evan."

"I hope so, Billie. We went to Orange Beach all the time. But that trip  was really amazing. Erin surfed her first big wave. Owen and I taught  her. We chartered a boat and went fishing too. My dad caught a gag  grouper. You ever seen one of those?"

"No."

"It's huge-the kind of creature God created just so men could have  fishing stories. Owen, Dad and I all took turns reeling her in. By the  time her sixty-pound body flopped around on the deck, our arms were  stinging from the pain. Dad said it was a family catch."

"Wow, sixty pounds?"

"No exaggeration. I never got to tell that fishing story."

"I'm happy you told me."

"Did I ever tell you my mom was a writer?"

"No."

"She wrote about food."

"Like cookbooks?"

"They had recipes but they were more about the relationships people have  with food. She loved to travel and get new ideas. Her excitement when  she talked about visiting Sri Lanka was all about the food. When I think  about my mom, I can still smell the sizzle of onions and garlic and  butter in a skillet. I kept this spice mix she made. It's in a little  metal container in that box. Sometimes I open it and sniff the scent  because it smells like home to me. She cooked the grouper that night. We  all agreed it was the best meal we'd ever had."

I realized what the box was then … he'd kept something from each of them.

"It sounds like a wonderful time."

"It was. These are all good memories, but I have a hard time with them.  With all of it. Especially the way I've used these last ten years.  Seeing that picture just brought all that back. I took that out on you,  and I wish to God I could take it back."

I rubbed his shoulder. "I forgive you, Evan, but why do you regret the way you used the years?"

"I've wasted them. Anyone else in my family wouldn't have thrown that time away like I did."

"Evan, your life isn't over, but I don't think what you said is true at all."

"You don't?"

"Baby, you make people happy with your music."

"That's nothing."

"It's a lot, Evan Wright. An awful lot, but even if you didn't do that,  you are a good person. You feed stray cats, you work at this bar for a  bartender's salary because you're a good friend. And what you did for my  brother …  That was very special to my family." I embraced him. "I'm  proud of you, Evan. Your family is too. Not just because of what you do.  I'm proud of the person you are." I wanted to ask him why he didn't go  to Sri Lanka, but he'd shared so much already.

"Thank you, Billie … my beautiful Billie Marie." He pulled back and  tousled my hair. "I have no right to ask you for anything, but would you  consider coming on a road trip with me?"

"What kind of road trip?"

"A soul-saving one. There's a few long-overdue things I need to do. A  few wrongs I need to make right. It would make it easier for me if you  were there."

"Then I'll be there. Where is there?"

"Frisco City, Alabama, where I'm from originally-and a few other pit stops. We'll be gone about a week."

"When?" I didn't want to miss Marley giving birth, but as soon as the  idea came into my head, I dismissed it. He would be gone by then anyway.  He'd bared himself to me, but he wouldn't stay. I bit back the sudden  pang of sorrow that gripped me and forced my lips to resemble a shadow  of a smile.

"How about two weeks from now?"

"But the bar?"

"I'll talk to Mike and Tilla. They've hired some more people. They won't have a problem with it. Will you come?"                       
       
           



       

"I'll follow you wherever you need to go."

"Even in the dark?"

"Especially there."





Chapter Twenty-Four





It's funny how you think the worst is over or yet to come, but we never  stop to think about the in-between. And bam, that's when life  happens-all those in-between times.

A week before Evan and I were set to leave, it appeared to be a very normal night at the bar.

"You and my wife have gotten close, right?" Mike asked me.

"Yes, she's my work bestie," I said.

"I don't really get girl terms like that, but here's the thing. I need your help."

"With what?"

"Our anniversary is in a few weeks and I have no idea what to get her."

A baby, I almost blurted, but instead I asked him what she liked.

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be asking for help."

I laughed and patted him on the chest. "Okay, let me think on it for a bit."

"It has to be special. She's my everything and I need to give my everything something special."

"That's sweet, Mike. You should say that to her."

"Okay," he said, searching the bar, no doubt looking for his everything.

"Not now. Save the good stuff for your anniversary."

He nodded, smiling wryly like we were conspirators. "I gotcha."

Evan came behind me while I was mixing drinks. He grabbed the shot  glass, throwing it up. I caught it mid-air. He handed me a bottle of  grenadine before I could even search for it. "Hey, Mike told me you're  going to help with the anniversary. I want in on that."

"You want to help?"

"Why not?"

"Look at you, Mr. Romantic."

"Don't get carried away, Billie Marie, or else."

"Or else what?"

He bent down so his mouth hovered above my ear. "I'll have to carry you  away, over my shoulder and straight up the stairs. You look fucking  delicious tonight. Are you trying to kill me with this outfit?"

Yep … sure was. I'd worn a short, black pleated skirt and a V-neck tank  top, which created some cleavage. I paired it all with knee-length socks  with my Mary Jane shoes-an ensemble I referred to as Catholic School  Girl meets dirty little freak.

"We're on, Evan." Mike called out.

"You heard him. You're on, Evan."

"Only if you promise to get me off later," he whispered before licking  the shell of my ear. And the Catholic School girl almost lost all her  manners to Dirty Freak Girl in that instance.

Damn if the first song he chose wasn't Sex and Candy by Marcy Playground.

"Hey, kid." There was only one guy who called me kid.

"Dillon," I screamed, coming around the bar, almost toppling him with my hug.

"Wow, watch the hair, please," he said, brushing it back. "Speaking of  hair, you could use a trim. What's the heck are you wearing, Billie?  Sexy vampish goth … I love it."

"Too much?"

"Just right."

"Thanks. What are you doing here?"

"You told me to drop by for a drink, remember?" He gestured to the bar. "I see my suggestions are working out."

"I didn't work here before they were made, but everyone says it's better now."

The tall, muscular guy behind Dillon cleared his throat.

"You gonna introduce us, McKay?"

"Sorry. Billie, this is Josh."

I pulled on Dillon's shirt. "Marley's Josh?"

"Marley doesn't have a Josh. She has a Rick. I have a Josh, and this is  him. But yes, I did meet him through Marley, if that's what you're  asking. And boy, am I glad you passed."

"You used to work with my sister, Josh?" I asked, because the guy had a  pierced tongue and tattoos covering both arms. Marley had worked for a  conservative, family-owned company.

"Yeah, she's a great girl. How is she? We all miss her at the office."

"Oh good. You'll have to come by and have dinner with us sometime."

Dillon shot me a worried look. I shrugged my ‘get the hell over it' look back at him.