On a Bruised Road

Chapter 2-3

“This doesn’t feel like a normal car,” Cathy shouted into his ear, her voice lifted by a carefree smile.

“It’s not like a normal car,” Blake helpfully informed her. “It’s older.”

“It’s not…” Edwin almost informed them that it was a perfectly normal car, except he would not have paid thirty grand for a perfectly normal car. “It’s better than that.”

“How fast does it go? We should find an open stretch and really let her rip.”

Blake was only echoing Edwin’s own thoughts and desires, but somehow, hearing it from Blake’s mouth made him realize what a horrible idea it was. He didn’t want to try to push it too hard, or too fast. Especially since Cathy would still feel the urge to shout, even if they were going eighty miles an hour down the freeway, and the wind would only whip the words right out of her mouth.

Blake provided the address for Cherry’s. Edwin knew the neighborhood, though he had never been to the bar. Cathy clapped her hands with unmistakable excitement. Edwin frowned, wondering if most people reacted so positively to the thought of visiting a bar. Maybe Blake never took the girl anywhere. Maybe she needed a beer too. Did Cathy like beer? Or would she choose a more frou-frou drink? Would either of them care if he ordered a frou-frou drink instead of a beer? Something a little fruity, perhaps. Something that would disguise the kick, soften the blow…

Cherry’s wasn’t exactly a high-class joint, but it was already filling up with people eager to start their Saturday night off right. Students, mostly, though he saw a few people who could only be described as working stiffs. As soon as Edwin parked, Cathy shimmied out of the backseat and beat them both to the front door.

“Is she some sort of boozehound?” Edwin asked under his breath.

“She likes to let her hair down once in a while,” Blake said. “Besides, she’s usually the designated driver.”

“So this was all a ploy to make me take over those duties?”

“And probably make you buy a few rounds.” Blake touched the dashboard with, Edwin thought, an appropriate amount of reverence. “She’s a sweet ride.”

Edwin looked around the parking lot, his stomach tightening at the thought of leaving the car unattended in a bar parking lot. Blake might have sensed that fear—or he already had a handle on Edwin’s many anxiety issues. A result, perhaps, of the fact that Edwin had been particularly anxious that day.

“She’ll be fine out here.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“I’ve been coming here for a long time. It doesn’t really attract the rowdy element.”

Blake held the door open, allowing Edwin to enter first. As soon as he stepped into the dark, cozy building, he froze. Dream baby got me dreaming sweet dreams, the night time too.

“What is this?” Edwin asked.

“What?”

“This. This song.”

Blake shrugged and gently shoved him out of the doorway. “Something by Roy Orbison, I think. I don’t know. I don’t listen to all this old music.”

“No. I mean, yeah, it’s Roy Orbison. I haven’t heard the song in a while.”

“Yeah, but it’s a good one. Hey, Cathy, you didn’t start without us, did you?”

“I got you both a beer.” She spun on her stool with what looked like a margarita in her hand. “I love happy hour.”

“I know you do,” Blake said affectionately, before downing half his beer. Edwin’s eyes widened at the sight, concern winding ropes around his stomach. He had thought they would be going out for a relaxing drink—not a chug-a-thon.

“Oh, I found something for Edwin too,” Cathy announced, her voice carrying over the music. How long must I dream?

“I don’t need anything,” Edwin said quickly.

“No, look.” To her credit, she didn’t stand up and point, but there was no missing to whom she was referring. A man at the other end of the bar. Edwin was relieved to see that the man had black hair instead of blond, but he was too young, too pretty, and also, probably not gay. “Isn’t he gorgeous?”

“He’s amazing,” Edwin said mildly, hopefully she’d be happy with his agreement.

“You should go introduce yourself,” Cathy said.

“No, I don’t think so.”

“But he really wants to meet you.”

Edwin closed his eyes. “Please, tell me that you didn’t already talk to him.”

“I might have a little.”

“How did you even have time? You were only like a minute ahead of us.”

Cathy slapped his arm good-naturedly. “No, silly, I meant I mentioned you to him before. I know him.”

“I appreciate the sentiment, but…”

“But nothing. We’ve been worried about you for a while, and Carson is a really nice guy.”

Edwin’s frown deepened. “What did you say?”

“Carson’s a nice guy.”

“Oh, I thought you said Cooper.”

“Why would I say Cooper?” Cathy asked, her head tilted at a perplexed angle.

I love you, and I really want you. “No reason. I must have just been hearing things. This music is pretty loud in here, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know. Maybe there’s something wrong with your ears,” Cathy suggested, not unkindly, as she sipped from her margarita. “You should go talk to him. He already knows your name, so you don’t have to go through the awkward introductions.”

“Fine. Fine. I’ll go over and offer to buy him a drink,” Edwin said with what he hoped was a pleasant smile. He wouldn’t do any such thing. But he could escape the annoying conversation, and Cathy’s not-at-all-cute buzz, by simply moving to Carson’s end of the bar. That seemed like a relatively minor sacrifice to make. He hoped Blake and Cathy would get tired of drinking before too long, and he would get home in time to catch a rerun of House.

Edwin took his glass of beer and moved away. As he walked, the music finally stopped.

It’s not the way you smile that touched my heart.

Edwin barely registered the new song, except to notice that it was not Roy Orbison. At that point, Edwin didn’t need anything more.

“What’s with the music in here today?”

“What?” Edwin looked up sharply at the question, then paused as he realized the source.

Up close, Carson was even more gorgeous than Edwin had given him credit for. He had high, sharp cheekbones, a perfectly bowed mouth, and thoughtful eyebrows. He also seemed impossibly young. Edwin automatically did the math—he had probably got his pharmacy license the same year Carson was born.

“The music in here. It’s all oldies.”

Edwin settled on the stool beside Carson and casually sipped from his beer, feeling anything except casual. Hopefully, the younger man wouldn’t be able to sense his desperation. Because he suddenly very much wanted to share his drink with him. “Oh. They don’t usually play oldies?”

Carson’s lips twisted into a small smile. “Not this old.” He offered his hand. “You’re Edwin, right?”

Edwin didn’t hesitate to take it. Carson’s fingers were rough, the skin hard but not unpleasant. “Yep. And you’re Carson.”

“Yes, I am. I’ve heard about you.”

Edwin grimaced. “Yeah, I know. Cathy was working completely on her own with this one. I didn’t—I mean, I don’t send her out as some sort of dating agent or something.”

Carson laughed. The sound was, without exaggeration, the best thing Edwin had heard all day. Even better than the Alfa Romeo roaring to life beneath his touch. “I figured that was probably the case. She’s nice, though.”

“She is. She just obviously has the need to put her nose in other people’s business.”

“I’m glad she does.”

Edwin arched his brow. “Really?”

“Sure, it makes my life easier when she sends the hot guys to me, instead of making me sniff them out.”

Forty-seven years old, and Edwin felt himself blushing. Just a little bit. Just the tips of his ears turning red, but it was enough. He took a sip of his drink, hoping that’d help him keep his voice even. “So clearly, she’s one of your agents.”

“Actually, we work together. She thinks she’s being helpful.”

“You don’t seem very surprised to see me.” Sweat was gathering on Edwin’s glass and leaving a perfect ring of moisture on the bar. “I’m beginning to think this was a huge setup.” Not that Edwin minded.

“Not a huge setup. She called me and told me to meet you guys here.”

“It sounds like a setup.”

Carson frowned. “Uh-oh. You sound annoyed.”

Is it true what they say about you? They say you’ll never, ever, never be true.

“No, no, I’m not annoyed. I mean, it’s really nice to meet you. You seem like a nice guy.” And you’re certainly easy on the eyes, Edwin thought.

“But?”

Edwin offered what he thought was a friendly smile, even as he gestured dismissively with his hand. “I don’t usually go for ambush setups or blind dates or whatever this is.”

If Carson was offended by Edwin’s attempted brush-off, he didn’t show it. In fact, he smiled, and his blue eyes lit with an engaging twinkle. He was probably accustomed to charming his way through life. Edwin couldn’t even remember being that young, and he was certain that he had never been quite that pretty.

“Can’t it just be two guys having a drink? I wasn’t exactly expecting a date or a hookup or anything.”

Edwin believed him. For one thing, why would anybody Carson’s age be eager to date somebody Edwin’s age? There was a very good chance that Cathy simply had not mentioned Edwin’s age when she’d called her friend. For another thing, Carson wasn’t the one turning into a giggling schoolgirl. To be fair, Edwin hadn’t actually giggled yet, but he thought it probably wouldn’t take much. “Yeah, two guys having a drink sounds good. But just one for me today.”

“Absolutely. My treat.”

“Two guys having a friendly drink usually pay their own tabs,” Edwin pointed out.

Carson studied him for a beat before nodding. “Fair enough. But let me get the second one, if you don’t find my company too objectionable.”

“I think that’s a sound compromise.”

“So…Cathy mentioned that you just got a new car.”

Edwin took a swallow of beer. It was a little difficult to concentrate when Carson trained his wide blue eyes on him. His full mouth sent Edwin’s mind to totally inappropriate places. If he had met Carson under different circumstances, would he try to keep his distance? Or was he just being contrary because he didn’t like surprises? He especially didn’t like surprises on top of days that were already too long and too confusing. On the other hand, Carson was definitely what one would call a pleasant surprise.

“Yes. Well, it’s new for me. It’s actually an old car. A sixty-two Alfa Romeo Spider.”

Carson whistled appreciatively. “Nice.”

“You know about classic cars?”

Carson offered a small, shy, completely endearing smile. Edwin felt something twist in his chest. “No, actually. I don’t really know anything about cars. But I’ve heard of Alfa Romeos, and spider sounds like a cool name.”

Edwin snorted. “Well, I appreciate your honesty.”

Come on home. Baby it’s you. Baby…it’s you.

“I just don’t want you to think I’m something I’m not.”

“Honesty the best policy?” Edwin asked lightly.

“Always.”

The bar plunged into silence, as the music stopped, and everybody took a breath at the same time. Nobody moved. Edwin couldn’t even hear his own heart beating. The first note of an old, familiar song startled everybody into motion again. Wise men say only fools rush in.

Carson sighed with exasperation. “Seriously, it’s like somebody opened up my grandpa’s record vault.”

“Maybe somebody who likes oldies pumped the jukebox with quarters,” Edwin said before taking another deep swallow of his beer. The explanation he offered was a perfectly reasonable one. Except he felt that chill again. It was like a sliver of ice working its way down his throat to settle in his stomach.

“Yeah, maybe. You all right?”

“What?”

“Are you feeling okay? You’re kind of looking a little pale…and like you’re a thousand miles away.”

Edwin took a deep breath. “I just had a really long, weird day.”

“You want to talk about it?”

Carson had honest eyes. Every emotion was evident in their blue depths, and now all Edwin saw was genuine concern. Like he really wanted to know what was wrong with Edwin, and maybe after Edwin was done explaining everything, he would do everything in his power to make the world a better place for him. That sort of concern—even the promise of that sort of concern—was more than a little intoxicating. And inviting. He could easily imagine just dumping everything at Carson’s feet, even though he barely knew the man.

He could start with the search that had consumed untold years of his life. He would explain how he found the car, the exhilaration at starting it, the thrill of driving it. All of that might have made for a decent conversation, but the other stuff—the near-death experience, the dream, Roy Orbison, the green eyes—that was just a little too bizarre. Probably the drink with Carson would come to nothing, but why shoot himself in the foot by scaring the younger man away?

“No, I’m—no, not right now.” He swallowed and gestured at the jukebox. “Has it ever done this before?”

“No, not that I know of.” Carson licked his lips. “You going to let me buy you a drink?”

“Only one.” Edwin looked down the bar to where Cathy was beckoning for her second drink of the afternoon. “I’m going to have to haul our friends home.”

“You could make them take a cab. It wouldn’t be the first time the bartender had to pour these two into a taxi.”

“I didn’t realize they had secret lives as lushes,” Edwin said, not unkindly.

“They liked to party in school. They haven’t had any reason to outgrow that. You know, they got slightly better jobs, but no kids or anything.”

“You don’t need to have kids to know when it’s time to grow up. Which…actually is a bit rich coming from me.”

“Why? Because you do have kids, or because you don’t?”

“Oh, no. No kids for me.”

“That’s good.” Carson frowned. “Unless you wanted to have kids, and then, you know, my sympathies.”

Edwin laughed. “No, I never really thought about it. But I did manage to grow up eventually, regardless.”

Carson tapped the rim of his mug against Edwin’s. “To growing up. Eventually.”

“Eventually,” Edwin echoed. “I’ll just keep an eye on them, then.”

Carson smiled. “And I’ll keep my eye on you.”

The promise shouldn’t have warmed Edwin through, but it did. Far more effectively than any alcohol.