Sandbridge Box Set

Chapter 6

Chapter 6

Trick woke Andy up even earlier the next morning. The sun was barely out, and the dog was scrabbling madly at the door, making a soft whuffing noise. At least Andy knew where he was as soon as he opened his eyes.

He whimpered a little as he stood up and his legs protested—he was no stranger to work, but fixing cars didn’t involve nearly as much time on his feet as bussing and washing dishes did, and his muscles were not pleased. The extra bottle of Advil had been an excellent decision. “What is it, Trick?”

Trick whined harder, then barked, and just after that, someone knocked on the door, a light, staccato rapping.

“Huh. Early warning system, huh?” Trick hadn’t acted like this when Scooter had knocked the previous day. Andy hesitated, but he wouldn’t be able to see through the front window at this angle anyway. He cracked the door without unhooking the chain.

“Morning.” Ekaterina stood there, holding a sizable box. “I know it’s early, but I am taking you to breakfast. My treat. And…I brought you some things.”

Andy blinked at her. He wasn’t at his best before coffee. But whatever this was, it didn’t sound like an immediate threat. He closed the door long enough to drop the chain, then opened it again so she could come in. “Uh. Sorry about the mess. That pile is, um, Jeff’s, I guess? Aaaand I’m standing here in my boxers. Hang on. Pants.” Smooth, Andrew.

Kat had a nice laugh, soothing and low-pitched. “Pants are optional, unless at work,” she said. “Bras are optional, too, but that is a problem you do not have, I expect.”

“Not unless I have a really hot date, anyway,” Andy said, yanking on his jeans.

She put the box down gingerly on the tiny kitchenette table and withdrew a familiar white and green cup. “Coffee. Black. For you. And one chai latte for me. Also for you—I didn’t know what you like, so I just picked up a few things.” She withdrew from the box a handful of paperback books, already spine-cracked, the pages dog-eared and foxxed. Two pairs of sweatpants and three tees that would probably fit, one of which said “Someone in Virginia Beach Loves Me,” and the other two with local college logos on them. She laid a tablet and charger on top of the clothes. “This one is used, but I got a new one. Still works, but I am always spending my money on the latest model. I should upgrade Jason, while I am thinking of it. First aid kit, in case you hurt yourself. And a succulent, because every home needs a plant.” Her accent, while she was talking, was slavic and a little choppy, absolutely nothing like the exaggerated Southern drawl she’d used in the restaurant.

Andy stared at the pile of…things, a bit flabbergasted. “I don’t…Why?” Why would she bring him this stuff? The little plant, maybe, sure—a sort of “welcome aboard” gesture. But clothes? Books? A tablet, for fucksake, even an older one? “Your boyfriend hates me.”

Kat sniffed. “I love Jason, very much. But it takes him time to warm to new people. I like you, that is enough. As for why…” Kat gave him a sad little smile. “That is a bit of a story to tell,” she said. “Here, put this on and give me your face for a moment. Then breakfast, and I’ll explain.” She pulled a tube of concealer and a compact from her pocket.

Andy pulled on one of the college tees, which felt like a cheat, considering he’d dropped out to move in with Nick, and turned his face obediently toward her, still stunned and confused.

She screwed the bottom of the tube and dabbed it on his bruise, carefully. It didn’t really hurt much anymore, which was good. “This will keep people from asking stupid, nosy questions. Unless they’re kissing-close, no one will see it, now that the swelling’s gone down. And you don’t seem like you should be ready to be kissing anyone.” Kat followed the taupe stick with brushes from her compact, smoothing out the lines with a practiced hand. “Here, you see?” She handed him the tiny mirror.

Andy took it, and while he noticed the powdery surface of the makeup in the compact’s curved mirror, he was pretty sure it was only because he knew it was there. “Thanks,” he said, snapping it shut and handing it back to her. “I appreciate it. The staring was getting old already.”

“Yes, I remember,” she said. “Come on. You like oysters? I know, not traditional breakfast. Jason hates them, and the raw bar does not serve other food worth eating. So, you come to breakfast with me, and we are all happy.”

Andy spread his hands. “You said you were buying, that makes it your choice,” he said. “I’m not, y’know, allergic or anything.”

The raw bar was only a few blocks away (or what would have been blocks, if Sandbridge had proper streets) and weirdly enough, the walk helped the pain in his legs settle out. By the time Kat climbed up onto the stool and exchanged greetings with the guy behind the counter, Andy had finished the coffee she’d brought him, the stimulant revitalizing him.

“Two mimosas and a dozen clams, dozen oysters, extra lemon and some of that horse sauce,” Kat ordered, handing the menu back unread.

The guy eyed Andy, opened his mouth and Kat held up a hand. “He is with me. Working at Dockside for the season.”

When he turned away, Kat muttered sidelong to Andy. “Scooter said you have no papers. You are old enough to be drinking alcohol in this country? Stupid law.”

“Do I actually look like I might still be under twenty-one?” Andy asked. “I’m flattered. And also I’m twenty-three.”

“Baby,” Kat scoffed. The guy came back with drinks. “Champagne in the morning. One of the few decent things worth getting up for. Tvoyo zdorov’ye.”

“I…am not going to try to pronounce that,” Andy said. “For which you should probably thank me.”

“I believe you Americans say ‘cheers,’” she said, her slavic accent coming out strongly, and she tipped the drink, swallowing fully half of it before setting it back on the bar.

Andy took a rather smaller sip of his own, sweet and sparkly against his tongue after the coffee. “You can’t be that much older than me,” he protested mildly.

“I’m twenty-eight,” she said. “Ukrainian, by birth. I came to the United States for school: four years at Rutgers, and then my graduate program down here at William & Mary, for oceanography. While I was here, the Russians invaded my country, killed my family, destroyed my home. I have no home left to go back to and everyone I ever knew is dead or in prison.” She picked up the glass and drained it, then tapped it. The guy behind the bar brought her a second one without hesitation.

Andy felt like a complete asshole. “I…I don’t even know what to say to that. That’s…I’m sorry.”

Her eyes were focused somewhere not in the little bar, one finger running lightly around the rim of her glass. “When I got the news, I was sitting in a McDonald’s with Jason. We were watching the television and it was on CNN. I felt. Lost. I had…nothing. Except Jason. And then Scooter.” Her mouth twitched, a little, and she looked at Andy. “You…remind me of me. You look lost. And you’ve given up everything. Whatever happened to you, Andrushka, it is no place of mine to ask, but I will listen if you want to talk about it. I wish to be your Jason. Someone to make sure you have a home again, even if that’s not here with us.”

The waiter sat down a tray of raw oysters and clams. Kat picked up a tiny fork and stabbed a clam with it. She squirted lemon on it and added a little dab of horseradish. She went about the process at a stately pace, as if it were a ritual to be given all due gravity. It gave Andy a few moments to compose himself.

It wasn’t nearly long enough, but he appreciated it anyway. He took a breath. And another. “You lost your home,” he whispered. “I’m not sure I ever had one.” He reached for the bottle of hot sauce on the counter and poured it generously onto an oyster before sliding it off the shell and into his mouth. Hot sauce always made his eyes water. “Thank you.”

“Well, you can have one here,” she said. “No place is perfect, but Scooter is in the habit of, as Jason would say, picking up strays. Not everyone stays, but they always come back.”

“Like Jeff?” Andy guessed. “Was he lost, too?”

Kat nodded. “Runaway. Joined the circus. Got in some legal trouble. He doesn’t settle. The circus was good for him, until it wasn’t. He always leaves, but he always comes back. Jason, too. His mom died when he was a child. Scooter’s parents fostered him, so he wouldn’t have to go in a state home, or to strangers. And D’ante, who came back from the war broken up inside. Scooter takes care of everyone.”

“And you help,” Andy pointed out. He dropped another oyster down his throat. “You seem like…good people. Glad I ran into you the other day.”

“Jason helps, too. Keeps people from taking advantage. Most of the time. We all do our part. Because that’s what you do.” There was a slight edge there, and her look was very direct as she used the oyster knife to slice the meat free of the shell. A warning, maybe. Or maybe he was just getting paranoid.

“I’m not taking advantage,” Andy felt obliged to say. “At least, I’m not trying to. I just want…I wish things could be simpler.”

“Things are always simple, Andrushka,” Kat said, finishing off her drink. “What they are not is easy. But worth it, I think, most of the time.” She chuckled. “You’ll find I philosophize when I drink. It’s in your best interest to keep me away from vodka.”

“Probably yours, too,” Andy said. “In that all I can afford right now is really cheap and terrible vodka.”

Kat picked through the empty shells, in case she’d missed any of the little mussels. “Ah well. Off to work. There is no rest for the sinners, am I right?” She tossed cash on the bar for the bill—Andy had been right about the cash-rich environment in a tourist town—and offered Andy her arm.