“Yes,” Sean acknowledged, mildly. Glancing at the time on his phone, Sean said, “You need to go get ready. We only have an hour before we have to be there.”
“Get ready for what? I’m not going anywhere. There are five more of that six-pack with my name on it, and I’m about to order a thick, greasy pizza to go with it,” Royce said, taking a seat on the couch and propping his feet on the coffee table.
He absently tapped his shirt pocket looking for that nonexistent cigarette again.
“Damn,” he muttered.
“Oh, believe me, you will want to go. I guarantee it,” Sean said with a devious grin.
Royce did not trust that look one bit. He knew to proceed with caution.
“Ok, I’ll bite, where is it that I will want to go?” Royce asked.
Adopting a much too innocent look, Sean casually looked out the living room window toward Charleston Harbor.
“Did I forget to mention that while Natie and I were having coffee, she invited us to dinner? At her uncle’s house-- tonight.”
Royce’s feet hit the floor with a thud, “You’re shitting me, right? You had better be real careful, Jones. Don’t jerk me around on this.”
Holding up his cell phone, Sean pointed smugly at the text from Natie, the one she had sent giving them directions to get to Kurt’s house.
“No shit,” he affirmed. “The way I have it figured, 6:30 will make us fashionably late. Another plus is the fact that if we get there late, you can park behind Becki so she won’t bolt when she sees you.”
With a chuckle, Royce saluted Sean, acknowledging a job well done.
“Hurry up, kid. We have a couple of stops to make on the way.”
Royce whistled as he headed for the shower. It was the first glimpse of the old Royce Sean had seen since Tara’s death. Sean had missed his old friend.
Jumping off the counter, he headed toward a shower of his own, lifting his fist in the air with a battle cry, “Let the games begin.”
* * * *
CHAPTER FOUR “Damn. Late again,” Becki muttered as she zoomed into Kurt’s driveway.
She grabbed the grocery bag containing ice cream, chocolate syrup, whipped cream, and nuts, slammed the car door, and headed for the back yard where everyone had gathered.
As she walked through the gate, she heard the inevitable goading. “Glad you could make it before we were finished this time,” Kurt called. He was sitting in a lawn chair with his feet propped up on a fivegallon bucket, drinking a beer and monitoring dinner which was currently boiling in a large stock pot over a propane burner.
“Wow, it’s still daylight and everything,” Landon felt compelled to add.
“Natie, was she late to school every day, too?” Jonah chimed in, though he already knew the answer to that one; he had been in her morning English class.
“You can all kiss my ass,” Becki answered with a grin and kept right on walking. “I need to get this in the freezer and say ‘hi’ to the girls. I’ll be right back. Nat, pour me a drink, and make it a strong one I need it!”
“Yes, Ma’am,” Natie replied, turning away to hide a grin playing at her lips.
If you only knew, she thought, as she added a liberal shot of alcohol to Becki’s glass.
#
“Hi girls,” Becki called to Clarissa, Leann, and Mandy. “What’s up?” she asked her cousins as she deposited the bag on the counter.
“Playing on the computer,” Mandy, piped up immediately. She was the youngest at 12 years old. Her Mamaw maintained that she had been vaccinated with a victrola needle as a baby.
Leann once told her, in all seriousness, “Mandy, you do love to talk.”
To which Mandy nodded her head in agreement and replied, “Ummhm, yes, I know.”
Becki had almost fallen off the couch laughing.
Leann, zoned into a game she was playing, absently answered, “Humm… What? Did you say something?” Finally, immerging from cyber fog, Leann noticed Becki standing in the kitchen.
“Oh, hi Becki,” she called and the next second returned her attention to the game.
Everyone laughed while Leann had tuned everything out at will.
Clarissa, who was chatting on mobile Facebook, walked into the kitchen, “Whatcadoin’?” she asked, thumbs flying over the buttons on her cell phone. Clarissa could text faster than most people could type.
“I’m just putting dessert in the freezer. Is anything interesting going on at school?” Becki asked.
“Nope, just the same old boring stuff. What’s for desert?” Clarissa asked as her phone vibrated with a new message.