Sandbridge Box Set

Chapter 10-2

Andy wasn’t sure what he’d expected of Kat and Jason’s apartment in Virginia Beach, but it was nice. Kat had obviously gotten her way as far as decor went; the walls were painted rich gold and all the wall hangings were deep, blood red, giving the space a distinctly eastern European vibe. Black enameled plates hung on hooks around the walls, each painted with brightly colored birds or fruits or animals. The sofa was a decorative c-shape and was a decidedly unpleasant shade of pink that would have been out of place anywhere else.

Kat gave him the tour, which wasn’t much. The main front room was a typical layout, combination living room/dining room, crowded with furniture. The kitchen was narrow, and someone had stuffed a free-standing butcher block into the tiny space. With Jason cooking in it, there was barely enough room to change his mind. Whatever Jason was making smelled wonderful, though, and decidedly not fried, which was frankly a relief.

There was a spiral staircase on one side of the living room that led up to the two bedrooms. The master had a walk-out balcony, and Kat rather proudly showed off her “view,” meaning that if you stepped all the way to the far left hand side of the balcony and jumped, you could actually see a little bit of the ocean. Probably. But mostly the view was obscured by a giant hotel. And beach. A shiny patch of sand glittered between the buildings, surrounded by scrubby palm bushes.

“This is nice,” he said honestly, and tried not to think about the apartment in New York. It had been smaller than this, because of the New York cost of living, and they’d decorated very differently, but there was a similar sense of pride and—

Nope, not thinking about it. Andy stuffed his hand in his pocket and made a fist. It was done, gone, the past, and he wasn’t ever going back. The last…God, had it been nearly three weeks already? Those weeks had been some of the best Andy’d had in years, despite the chronic shortage of funds and constant low-level worry about not having any ID or any idea what he was going to do when his apartment’s itinerant renter returned in the fall.

He’d forgotten, with Nick, how nice it was to spend time with people. More than one person. Different people, sometimes. He’d run errands with Scooter or see the sights with Kat or shoot the breeze with D’ante while working on that somehow always-needing-a-tune-up truck of his. Hell, he’d spent one of his off-afternoons down at the S-turn watching the teenagers trying to do tricks on their skateboards and helping Raneisha with her math, because he’d accidentally let it slip that he’d been an engineering student, once upon a time. And now this.

Nick had pouted and fumed when Andy hadn’t gone along with Nick’s plans. Had thrown jealous tantrums whenever Andy tried to make plans without Nick. Had monopolized Andy’s attention whenever they were out with Nick’s friends, so Andy hadn’t been able to really get to know them. Had, slowly but surely, cut Andy off from everyone and everything except Nick.

He’d even been hinting that they could get by on Nick’s paycheck alone, once his next promotion came through. It’d been couched in careful terms of it being a privilege for Andy—but it would have cut Andy off even from the people he worked with. That dream hadn’t been born out of anything like real love and affection, nor concern for Andy’s well-being, or inability to hold down a job, however it was presented. It was about control.

Had he even spoken to his college friends in the last…four years? Christ. He didn’t think so. He’d sent a Christmas card to his freshman roommate’s family, the year Andy would have graduated. But he and Nick had been just about to move, so he hadn’t bothered to put a return address on it, and the next year, Nick had offered to address all their cards…

Shit, s**t. Andy’s throat closed and his vision blurred. He’d been at school for two years before dropping out to move in with Nick, and he’d made plenty of friends in that time, but he had no idea where any of them were or if they were even still alive. They probably believed he’d forgotten all about them. Which was fair, because he had, without ever meaning to.

Fuck. Nick’s abuse had gone a lot deeper than the one time he’d finally lost control and actually hit Andy; it had been going on for years, and just because it was more subtle than his father’s fists, Andy had completely missed it.

He clapped a hand over his mouth to hold back the undignified sob that was trying to escape, and focused his eyes firmly on the pale little patch of sand that was Kat’s “view.” He couldn’t…not here, not now. Later. Later, in the dark, with no one to witness but the dog, he would rage yet again at all the things Nick had stolen from him. Now, he had to swallow it down, be calm, be—

“We’re all planning to spend the Fourth of July at Busch Gardens,” Kat said, casual, pretending not to notice his sudden distress while giving him something to focus on. Andy could have kissed her for that. “Scooter always closes Dockside for Independence Day. He says it is out of respect, but really, he’s soft on Jason.”

Andy managed to swallow back the knot in his throat enough to rasp, “On Jason?” Andy’d overheard numerous tourists planning their schedules; Busch Gardens was an amusement park an hour or so north, in Williamsburg. Andy vaguely recalled the bus stopping in the town on his way down, and he was continually confusing it with the neighborhood in New York of the same name.

“Oh, that’s right,” she said, “you don’t know. Jason’s birthday is the fifth. Jason loves roller coasters and fireworks. And we love Jason, so we indulge him in this. You will come with us, yes?”

Andy nodded and pulled her into a quick hug. “Thanks,” he said, trusting that she’d understand without asking that he didn’t mean just the invitation.

“My birthday is not until the fall. October nineteenth,” she said thoughtfully. “I’ll be twenty-one. Isn’t that what I’m supposed to claim now? Forever 21?”

“Too late,” Andy said. “I already know your terrible secret. Don’t worry, I’ll get you a walker and a Life Alert bracelet for your birthday, so you’re all set for your waning years as an ancient crone.”

“And I shall get for you a pacifier and a bib for yours,” Kat shot back. “When is that? I seem to have forgotten, in my senile old age.”

“Memorial Day, this year,” Andy said without thinking, caught up in the banter. “Maybe that will help you remember.”…Crap, he hadn’t meant to give away any more potentially identifying information. Maybe she wouldn’t believe him; the sale banners for the holiday had started going up just today, so maybe she’d think he’d just picked it out of thin air.

“Poor you,” she crooned. “That’s the busiest day of our year. Scooter will not let you out of work. You will be cursing your mother by the end of the day. It’s awful. Horrid. The worst.”

“But at least I’ll have the privilege of seeing your smiling face all day,” Andy responded. “What better way to celebrate?” What would he even do with a day off, anyway?

Jason coughed, a deep rumble. How the hell did he move that quietly? Andy understood Kat ghosting around, she was so tiny, but Jason could probably bench-press a Volkswagen microbus if he had a mind to do so. It was unnatural. “Are you flirting with my mail-order bride?”

“He says this—” Kat turned to Andy with an air of disgust. “—and he has yet to actually propose to me. I should get a refund.”

Jason, much to Andy’s astonishment, blushed. “Dinner’s ready.”

Andy hadn’t known Jason could do that. “Lead on then,” he said, and ostentatiously offered his arm to Kat. “May I have the honor of taking you in to dinner?” he asked in his best Masterpiece Theater accent.

“Oh, he’s adorable, Jason,” she said. “I want one. Can we adopt him? I’ll feed him and take him for walks and everything.”

Jason snorted. “You burn water. And Dymok thinks I’m the feeding person, so, no, you can’t have another pet.”

“I’ll just make Scooter adopt him, then. I can have a pet by proxy.” She ruffled Andy’s hair.

Andy tried, really, really hard, not to think too much about being adopted by Scooter, cuddled and petted and—He wasn’t terribly successful.

Dinner was incredible. Jason was a good short-order cook, but apparently that wasn’t the only skill under his belt. He presented and carved an elaborately braided beef wellington, along with roasted miniature vegetables and a cranberry walnut salad with goat cheese that Andy had several helpings of, because vegetables that weren’t potatoes were scarcely seen at Dockside. The wine he’d picked went reasonably well, even if it was a tannin-heavy red that made Andy’s teeth feel fuzzy.

“This is amazing,” Andy said after barely remembering to swallow his mouthful. “Why aren’t you a chef for one of the fancier restaurants?”

Jason actually smiled. “Because I like to cook,” he said. “I know, I know, that sounds weird, but short-order is easy. I don’t have to think about it. Working in a fancy place, I’d have to think, all the time, and make sure everything is exactly right and deal with sous and infighting and bickering, not even mentioning customers with a bug up their ass, which you get more of, the fancier the place gets. There’s more drama in a kitchen than on a stage. Cooking like this…this is an act of love. And I don’t love that many people.”

Andy paused, fork halfway to his mouth. “Huh.” It sounded—not rehearsed, but like Jason had been asked this before, actually put some thought into it. Andy pointed the fork at Jason, greens wobbling on the tines. “Also, because Dockside is where Scooter is,” he guessed.

Jason nodded, not even trying to deny it. “And that’s where Scooter is.”