The Boys Down South by Abbi Glines

35

scarlet

I had heard of people having those moments where they were completely speechless. No words could form. Their mouths wouldn’t move. Not even a grunt. I didn’t believe that was realistic. I mean, who can’t at least make a grunt?

I stand corrected. It was possible. Because I wasn’t sure oxygen was even moving through my lungs. Shock could do many things to a person. This must be one of them. It only lasted a few moments. Then the fear I misunderstood settled in. That made more sense. Bray had said something that I heard incorrectly.

He moved toward me and I watched in silence, my head tilting as he drew closer so I could keep eye contact. I was waiting for them to twinkle with laughter from his cruel joke. That was more Bray-like than this man who I thought had just said he wanted to be where I was.

Loving him, needing him, it was all so hard to do. He made it impossible not to want him. When he was sweet, I clung to it, hoping the moment never ended. But it always did. Then I was left hollow from the experience that was all too fleeting.

“This sure looks like it’s gonna end with roses and chocolate, but I need these customers taken care of before they all get up and walk out.” Ethel’s voice rang out over the dining room. Startled, I gasped and spun around. I’d forgotten where we were. What I was supposed to be doing. Everything. Bray did that to me. And oh, how I hated it.

“Diesel, get the lemon pie and start giving everyone who had to sit here and watch the drama going on while they choked on their food due to nothing to drink, a free slice,” Ethel ordered then pointed at Bray. “You find a seat. Stay in it. If you go running off again, I’m liable to get my shotgun off the wall in my office and chase you down. Are we clear?”

I paled. Ethel was threatening Bray. Oh dear God. I didn’t look back at him, but the low laughter from his chest was my second surprise for the evening. “Yes, ma’am. We are clear.”

He’d sounded respectful. Not sarcastic. I started to turn back to look at him and Ethel snapped her fingers. “No, you don’t! Focus is this way, dear.” She then winked at me and went back into the kitchen.

Diesel stalked past me following her. Either he was going to argue that Bray needed to leave or he was angry about giving out the pie. I was pretty sure it was the former. He was angry at Bray. Not that it was his business to be. I wondered how long they had been standing there arguing when I walked in. Bray had a short temper and seeing Diesel advancing on him like that had made me panic. I didn’t know what Bray would do next, but an image of Diesel sprawled out on the floor flashed through my mind.

Grabbing the water pitcher, I started making my way around filling drinks and checking on the few customers we had left. My cheeks were warm from the pink stain on them. All eyes had been on the three of us.

“Two good lookin’ young men like them two fighting over you,” Mrs. Warrior said in a loud whisper with a grin on her face as I filled her cup with water. “Reminds me of my younger days.”

Mr. Warrior made a sound in his throat. “Who was fightin’ over you, Jane? I shoulda give you to ‘em and they could have saved me a lot of trouble and money.”

The Warriors had been married sixty years. I knew this because they’d told me more than once. The also fought regularly and Mrs. Warrior flirted with the other senior citizen males in the place. She must have been pretty once because she carried herself as if they all were looking at her.

“I should have chosen one of the rich boys who wanted to court me. It would have been a more exciting life. I’d have got to see New York City. I always did want to see that big ‘ol tree at Christmas they have there.”

Mr. Warrior rolled his eyes. “What rich boys? You sure you aren’t getting your life confused with one of them stories you watch?”

Mrs. Warrior straightened up in her chair, which I didn’t think was possible for her to sit any straighter. “The summer people,” she said, as if Mr. Warrior was too beneath her to know what that was. “The wealthy came to the beaches back then for its seclusion from the big city,” she told me matter-of-factly. “My momma worked for several of them.”

“Your momma cleaned their toilets. Stop jabbering like you were high-falutin’ and let the girl do her job,” Mr. Warrior grumbled.

I smiled and hurried to the next table. I knew from experience, sticking around would get me put in the middle of their fight, and I wasn’t interested in that. I chanced a glance back at Bray to see he was still here. His gaze following me. He didn’t seem angry to be told to take a seat. Or in a hurry to leave. He was… different.

“Can I have a coffee to go, sugar?” the man at my next table asked and I snapped back to attention, trying not to think about Bray. Not yet anyway. But he was here. He hadn’t left me. He’d left to come back to me. I didn’t know what to think about that. Or if I could believe it.

“I don’t reckon that one is leaving,” the man said and then winked at me.

My already warm cheeks flared with heat and I hurried to go get him a coffee to take on the road. I could tell by the smell of tobacco, wrinkled clothing and endless consumption of coffee that he was who belonged to the semi-truck outside.

Diesel was walking out with the pie and a scowl on is face as I got to the drink station.

“You’re smarter than this, Scarlet,” he said under his breath.

I didn’t respond to him. This was a guy who had driven his drug dealing friend’s car around and gone to jail over it; he wasn’t that sharp himself. Besides, he didn’t know our story. He assumed he did. But I hadn’t asked for his opinion.

“The guy is a player. He likes the chase,” he continued.

I looked up at him. Forced a smile. “You have several people waiting on their free pie,” I said with fake cheer then went to take the trucker his coffee and leave him his bill.

“Can I get more sweet tea, Scarlet?” Hansel Meyers asked. He was a thirty-year-old who lived with his mother and wore bow ties. He also ate here for dinner on her bingo nights. To most people, he was pathetic. Or “pitiful,” but he had a mom who loved him. Wanted him around. I thought he was lucky.

I grabbed the tea pitcher and went to give him a refill.

“Thank you,” he said shyly. He always turned bright red from the roots of his receding hairline to his chest when he spoke to me.

“You’re welcome, Hansel. I’ll leave your bill right here,” I replied.

I started to walk off and he blurted out, “If things don’t work out with the others, I’m free this weekend.”

I would be willing to bet Hansel was free most weekends. But I simply smiled at him and nodded. I didn’t know the correct words to say there. My eyes quickly darted to Bray who was covering his mouth discreetly with his hand. His eye danced with laughter. He was laughing… and trying to hide it.

The Bray I knew wouldn’t care about Hansel’s feelings. I stood there staring at him again, confused. The warmth in his eyes as he stared back at me made my chest feel funny. It wasn’t something I was familiar with. It felt nice. No… better than nice. It was as if I had been dipped in a tingly peppermint bath. I shivered.

“Jesus,” Diesel muttered, disgusted as he walked off.

I ignored that. Because he didn’t understand. Bray Sutton wasn’t just the first man I ever trusted enough to love, but he had also been my first for many things. He was the first man I ever felt safe with. That was important to me. But right now, I was feeling something new and I couldn’t put a name to it. Maybe it didn’t need a name or an explanation. I just didn’t want it to ever go away. But with Bray, I never knew when he would be gone.