. . . It was so pretty. I hardly knew what to think. Never thought I could fall in love so fast. We were crazy, too. Her dad hated me, but that didn’t stop us from driving down to San Francisco in her car—a little orange Volkswagen—and spending part of the summer there. We dropped acid and danced in the park, then camped in a flophouse with a bunch of friends. It was a real good time.”
Tinker choked, staring at him wide-eyed. Couldn’t blame her, either—the man looked like an old farmer who’d never traveled more than fifty miles from his hometown. Tom scooped up another serving of rice, oblivious to her shock.
“Wow,” Carrie said. “I can’t wrap my head around that. Tricia never even let Tinker stay out past ten on the weekends.”
Tom smirked. “Yeah, the wild ones always turn into the most protective parents. It’s because we know how many different ways there are to find trouble. We had a shotgun wedding, did I ever tell you that? I swear, your grandpa was all ready to kill me until he found out she was knocked up.”
“Stop!” Tinker said, holding up a hand. “I can’t hear things like that. Just leave me in peaceful ignorance, okay?”
Tom laughed, looking pleased with himself. His mind might wander at times, but right now he was obviously with us and enjoying every minute. Must’ve been a hell of a guy in his prime.
“You want another beer?” Darren asked me, lifting up his empty.
“Sure,” I said, reaching for mine and polishing it off.
“We really need to change the subject now,” Tinker announced. “Dad, you aren’t allowed to talk unless it’s about something safe and neutral.”
Tom laughed, then nodded his head. “Sure thing, Stinker.”
She groaned, and Carrie burst out laughing. “Remember how we used to call you Stinker Bell?”
Tinker flipped her off, then turned to me with a big, fake smile. “So tell me, Cooper, how do you feel about friends who don’t know when to keep their mouths shut? I was considering hitting her over the head with a shovel, but I hear drowning works, too.”
Grinning at her, I shook my head. “Slippery slope, Tinker. In the end, those are the kind of friends you can really count on. If you kill them off, you got nobody to help you bury the bodies.”
Carrie burst out laughing. “See? I’m right and you’re wrong. Again.”
“I hate both of you,” Tinker declared, but she was giggling. “Now I’m not going to share any of my caramels.”
“Oh, fuck off,” Carrie replied. “You know damned well you can’t say no to me.”
“She’s a force of nature,” Darren agreed, dropping down into the seat next to her. He handed me another bottle. “You put the two of them together and things can get scary.”
“Be nice or I’ll tell about that time you got stuck up in the tree house.”
“I was six years old, Stink.”
“Yeah, but you cried like you were two,” Tinker said, waggling her eyebrows. “I’ll never forget it. He kept whining about wanting his mommy, and Dad had to climb up and get him.”
“Do you really want to play this game, Stink?” Darren asked, arching a brow. “Because if you want to play chicken, I’m game. So Cooper, when Tinker and Carrie—”
“Shut your mouth!” Tinker hissed as Carrie smacked him on the shoulder.
“Don’t you dare, you horrible man!”
“Hey, I wasn’t going there,” Darren insisted, holding up his hands. “I planned to tell him about when you went swimming at the quarry and your suit came off.”
An image of her naked and slippery in the water sprung to life in my mind. I coughed, shifting uncomfortably. That brought our legs into contact, which wasn’t exactly helpful.
“Shut your mouth, Darren,” Tinker repeated, but she looked relieved. Interesting—there must be a hell of a story behind that little exchange. I wanted to hear it.
“Truce?” Darren asked.
“Truce,” Tinker agreed.
“Jesus, Darren. You suck,” Carrie said, poking his side.
“She started it.”
Tom nudged my shoulder. “I understand that they’re adults, but sometimes all I can see are little kids.”
“You love us and you know it,” Carrie reminded him. Tom grunted, but he came around and gave Tinker a kiss on the top of the head when he stood to go. We watched him walk inside, then Carrie turned to Tinker.
“Do you really think they did all that crazy shit? I can’t picture your dad on acid.” She shuddered.
“Not sure I want to know,” Tinker replied. “And I definitely don’t want to picture it.”