fell with regret. I didn’t have a chance to respond because he instantly put a hand, palm up, toward me, and said, “Aw, man. That was uncalled for. I didn’t mean that the way it came out.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
“No, it’s not okay. Totally uncalled for. I’m an asshole, and I’ve had too much to drink. Sorry, man. She’s lucky to have you. I’m sure it has nothing to do with the money.”
I smiled. “No, I’m sure it has something to do with the money. I can live with that.”
“No, man. I don’t know Miranda well at all, but she doesn’t care about that stuff. I can tell.” Brad seemed to be ramping up for a long apologetic monologue, so I was pleased when a heavily made-up blonde slid into the booth next to him and bumped him on the hip.
“Hey, Braggett,” she said, then extended a hand toward me. I gripped her limp fingers in what was technically a handshake as she said, “Hi, Braggett’s friend. I’m Polly. I’m sure you’ve heard nothing at all about me.”
“Pol,” Brad said. “Meet Ted Severson. He’s the one building the new house out on Micmac.”
“No shit.” Polly smiled at me. Even with the clownlike makeup you could tell that she was pretty, and had probably once been beautiful. Natural blond hair, blue eyes, and large breasts that she was showing off in a V-neck shirt and cardigan sweater. The portion of her chest that was visible was deeply tanned and freckled. “Brad told me all about that house. It’s gonna be beautiful, I hear.”
“That’s the plan,” I said.
“Well, boys, I was going to intrude on your manly little bonding session, but now that I see you’re talking business, I have lost interest.”
“Have a drink,” I said.
“Thanks, anyway. I’ll let you two talk.”
She slid out of the booth, leaving behind a hefty waft of perfume.
“Girlfriend?” I asked Brad.
“In eighth grade maybe,” Brad said and laughed, showing a lot of his teeth. “But now that she’s here I wouldn’t mind taking off. I live right around the corner. You got another drink in you, then I’ll take you home?”
“Sure,” I said, although the last thing I wanted was another drink, and the next-to-last thing I wanted was to get in a vehicle with a drunken Brad behind the wheel. But this was a chance to see where Brad lived, and I couldn’t pass that up.
The night had turned cold, but the mist had lifted and a multitude of stars wheeled in the sky. Even though Brad’s rental cottages were about three hundred yards away, he drove me in his truck, parking erratically in front of the first of about a dozen boxy cottages that formed a semicircle across the road from the beach. A hand-painted sign said CRESCENT COTTAGES, then a phone number.
“Miranda told me you own these,” I said as he unlocked the dark cottage. All of them were dark, illuminated only by a streetlamp, and by the bright night sky.
“My parents own them but I run them. We’re out of season now but they do good in the summertime.”
He flipped on a tall floor lamp as we walked through the front door. It was nicer inside than I expected but also bleaker, just a few pieces of utilitarian furniture, the walls painted white and mostly empty. The one item that marked it as Brad’s home and not a rental was an enormous TV on a stand that looked out of place in the relatively small living room. I thought it would smell of cigarettes inside but it didn’t.
Brad went straight to the fridge in the alcove kitchen, and I shut the flimsy front door behind me. I heard two caps popping off bottles, and he returned and handed me a cold Heineken. We sat on the beige couch. Brad slumped a little, his legs spread wide. The beer bottle looked small in his big tanned hands.
“How long have you lived here?” I said, just to say something.
“’Bout a year. It’s a temporary situation.”
“Yeah,” I said. “I can see that. I mean, you wouldn’t want to live here too long.”
As soon as I said it, I felt a little bad, and I watched a hateful flicker darken Brad’s face that he quickly replaced with a thoughtful frown. “Like I said, only temporary. Till the old ship comes in.”
I said nothing back and we lapsed into a silence. I looked around, noticing that the stack of fishing magazines on the coffee table were squarely