Find Wonder in All Things - By Karen M. Cox Page 0,8
Pendletons had given him a place to stay for the summer, rent free, and Stuart had given up his only down time at home to drive him there. It wasn’t Stu’s fault that James had to work summers. It was just the way it was.
For the next hour and a half, he heard the music from the top of the hill as he wiped counters and mopped floors. The tunes were right up his alley, too — a mixture of rock and country that floated on the night breeze over the water and into the screened windows of the restaurant kitchen.
A little after ten o’clock, Mr. Elliot came into the pantry where James was wiping down shelves, and handed him a wad of bills.
“Tips,” he explained. “Don’t spend it all in one place or on one girl.” He winked. “You need a ride up to town tomorrow to open a bank account?”
“Umm, no thank you, sir. Stu said he’d take me in the morning.”
“Ah.” Mr. Elliot nodded. “Well, I think we’re pretty much done here. Why don’t you head on out and join your friends?”
“Sure. Thanks.”
“And keep an eye on my daughter,” he called after James good-naturedly.
James held up a hand in acknowledgement as he stepped out the front door of the restaurant and into the warm, summer night.
Chapter 2
The stars winked in the dark, Southern sky as James locked the boat and headed toward the marina’s highway entrance. He could see a faint glow of light from the town several miles away, but here the sky was clear and the night was quiet, except for the music. The wooden dock creaked beneath his feet, swaying gently from side to side as he walked along. The lake lapped at the buoys in a soft rhythm, a black, living thing underneath him — threatening and yet soothing in its vast darkness. Adjusting his stride, he traversed from the dock to the pavement, and then to the steep drive that led to the highway above. Following the road, he picked his way along the shoulder of the highway until he reached the gravel drive Laurel told him about. A battered mailbox proclaimed in shiny but peeling letters that he’d arrived at The Loft. Another steep climb and he was there. He crossed a porch lined with rocking chairs and approached the heavy, steel door with chipping paint and squeaky hinges. It gave way after a mighty shove, and he stepped directly into a game room with a few pool tables and pinball machines. Low green lamps hung from the ceiling, casting a dim light about the place. He made his way across the room and over to the stairwell. The sounds of music and conversation floated down the steps, and because Stuart and Laurel were nowhere to be seen, he jogged up the stairs to the second floor.
He was greeted with a flurry of activity. A jukebox cranked out loud, Southern rock, and about a dozen couples were dancing, including Stu and Laurel. It was an interesting crowd: bikers with leather jackets and beards, local factory workers and their wives, boating tourists in polo shirts and khaki shorts, and a handful of high school and college kids. James hung back and watched the room in general — and Stuart and Laurel in particular.
A wave of unfamiliar emotion washed over him as he watched the two of them dancing. It wasn’t that he didn’t trust his friend, but . . . Maybe it was because Mr. Elliot had told him to watch out for her. Or perhaps he was feeling protective because he’d known her when she was a chubby, little kid. He didn’t know the answer, but watching All-American, handsome Stuart laugh with her and twirl her under his arm annoyed him like a mosquito bite that wouldn’t stop itching. It irked him further that she was obviously enjoying herself. What is Stu up to anyway? Doesn’t he know it’s bad form to hit on the ex-girlfriend’s little sister? Not that James cared or anything, but something about a guy trying to manipulate an innocent kid didn’t sit well with him, even if that guy was his friend.
Laurel spied him in the corner, leaning against the wall with his arms folded. She immediately stopped dancing and waved, turning Stu around to see him. They both gestured for him to join them, pointing to a table at the side of the room. On her way to their seats, Laurel stopped at the bar.