A Much Younger Man - Z.A. Maxfield Page 0,7

kid and the dog a place without the friend?” Shawn asked.

Cooper tapped the bar absently. “What if that’s why they’re on the road in the first place? Parents didn’t like the boyfriend.”

“Obviously we need to know more about their situation before we can do anything to help. If I see Beck again, I’ll ask some questions,” I said.

“He’s probably out there right now.” Cooper nodded toward the beach. “Want to look?”

“You go.” Shawn came through the bridge and sat on one of the bar stools. “I’ve been on my feet since six this morning.”

Shawn’s work as a teaching assistant and the dance classes he led at Izzie’s gym kept him in peak physical condition, but enough was enough, I guessed. I tipped my drink back. Cooper gave Jim a nod. This time he left his violin behind the bar when he went in search of Beck, Callie, and their shady friend, who pinged my radar all wrong.

Outside, instead of a brilliant sunset, there were clouds moving rapidly inland. A waning moon played peekaboo as they scudded across the sky.

“Might rain,” Cooper observed.

“Smells like it.”

He pulled his collar up against the brisk breeze. “Hope the kids have a tent.”

I hoped so too, except there wasn’t really any legal camping on the beach, and the SIPD might move them along if they made a nuisance of themselves.

We located Beck right away. He’d stationed himself under the light closest to the cantina, and he’d already drawn a small crowd.

“I played for cash when I first got here too.” Cooper smiled at some memory. “Jim let me use his upstairs room and play in the bar. The rest is St. Nacho’s history.”

Lots of people drifted into Santo Ignacio and simply never left. Our little town had a reputation for collecting folks who felt like outsiders everywhere else.

Cooper met Shawn at the cantina, and the two had become a mainstay of culture in town. Things seemed to fall into place here. People slowed down. They took stock. They put things into perspective. Here, people celebrated their differences and found common cause in the natural beauty all around us. People met and fell and stayed in the kind of love most of them had only dreamt about before coming here.

Some said the town was mystical or built on sacred ground or enchanted.

I figured it was simply easier to find love when you were already happy.

As we watched, Beck’s audience tossed cash into his guitar case. The atmosphere was festive, making larger tips more likely. We partied over the big things and the small—a ball game between the firefighters and the police officers, a new flavor of pie. We were too liberal to be called Mayberry, but we had traditions that went back to the founders. The drums we marched to played a different, more lively beat.

Look at me, a relative newcomer, going all squishy over my new home.

Cooper and I watched Beck play until the light faded. He finished his set with a Gipsy Kings tune that had at least two couples in the crowd dancing.

As he had the first time, Beck’s friend climbed over the retaining wall when he was finished playing. He scooped up and counted Beck’s cash without even asking him if it was all right. I resented this on Beck’s behalf, but it was none of my business how they conducted their affairs. Obviously we weren’t seeing the full picture. Maybe Beck’s friend did day labor to contribute. Maybe he was the one who took care of all the mundane business while Beck thought only of music.

Beck’s friend took off after promising he’d be back with food. Beck took his time putting his instrument away. The care he showed his guitar—and Callie—warmed my heart.

Once most of the crowd dispersed, Cooper and I stepped forward to say hello.

“Oh, hey, Dr. Lindy.” Beck’s face lit with gratifying, happy recognition. “Cooper.”

“Hey, Beck.” I crouched to greet Callie, who didn’t seem to hold our earlier fracas with the nail clippers against me. “How’s it going?”

“Fine.” He dug through his backpack, found what he was looking for, and proudly handed it over. “Here.”

“Thanks.” I took it before I really registered what it was. “Ah.”

“Callie’s poop. You said you wanted it.”

I had said I wanted it. “Thank you.”

It wouldn’t have come as a surprise to anyone who knew me that I simply jammed it in my pocket. Everything I owned was machine washable, and my jacket had been through a lot worse. I used hand sanitizer liberally while