Authors: Rachael Wade
I sat down across from Joe on the Go Guy and took a sip of my latte. “I’m Carter,” I said, reaching out for a shake.
“Liam,” he said, sitting back casually. “So, you’re in the market for a food truck?”
“Yeah, something like that. Been looking to start my own business.” I surveyed the truck, giving a satisfied nod. “Only I won’t be selling coffee, though.”
“No? What do you sell?”
“Music. Well, lessons, that is. I want to have a studio, somewhere I can teach. Maybe eventually use it as a small recording space. But I can’t afford that kind of space right now. So I thought it would be cool to have the island’s first mobile music school.”
Liam let out a low whistle. “Wow. We sure don’t have anything like that around here. Most people drive to the mainland for music lessons. You’re a musician?”
“Yeah, I play a little of this, a little of that. Mostly guitar. That’s what I was thinking. I figured something like that might do really well around here. I’ve had my eye on this truck.”
And I had. For weeks.
But the thought to do anything about it was buried deeply somewhere in the back of my skull. I’d come to this food truck before, often when I was feeling nostalgic for the West Coast, always on the search for that perfect Seattle-style cup of coffee. This place stuck out like a sore thumb, standing all alone in the parking lot of a strip mall, but that’s why I liked it. It didn’t belong here on this stretch of sand, but it did. Its funky cobalt blue exterior and pop-art style décor made it distinctly different from all the other pastel-colored, seashell-themed businesses on this island.
Somewhere, between being completely absorbed with Whitney and struggling to find closure with Kate, I’d gotten distracted. But my time spent with Tia and Tony planted a seed, and I hadn’t been able to shake the idea since I’d first spotted the For Sale sign hanging in the truck’s window.
I sipped at my latte again, tasting the cinnamon on my lips. Wasn’t perfect, like the French-press coffee from Street Treats back home, but it was pretty damn close.
“I’ll be honest with you,” I continued, “I can only afford a modest down payment. I’ll need to look into financing, but I want this truck. I like the idea of being mobile, and I think I can offer this island something they don’t realize they need. Can you give me a week to see what I can do and get back to you?”
“Yeah,” he said thoughtfully, clicking his pen and scribbling some numbers down on the back of a receipt. “I can do that. Really, no one but you has shown any interest in this place. I’ve had it up for sale for a long time. Eventually, I took the sign down because no one was biting, but the itch to sell it kept nagging at me, so I said to hell with it and threw the sign back up, hoping for the best. I’ll work with you on the numbers. It’s super reliable and gets decent gas mileage, too.”
“Sounds good. What’s next for you? You opening up a brick and mortar shop somewhere?”
Liam’s gaze wandered past me and across the parking lot, a secret smile tugging at his lips. Faint creases formed around his eyes, behind his glasses. There was a fondness there, for what I didn’t know. “Nah, I’m done with the coffee business. I’m not sure what I’m going to do when I sell Joe on the Go. All I know is I wanna get off this island and do something different.”
“I know how that goes,” I said, with all the honesty in the world. “You lived here long?”
“A few years now, yeah. I wasn’t born here or anything. Just wound up on the island one day.” He laughed, bringing his gaze down to his hands. He was wringing them on the table. “There was a girl, you know. Anyway, I liked it here and wanted to stay. I loved coffee and freedom, and that’s what I had here. For a while. I don’t regret any of it. I wanted it all—her, this truck, this life. Everything. But it’s time to go.” He straightened up, letting his hands fall to his knees. “Simple as that.”
“I hope I can take Joe off your hands, then.” I smiled, moving to stand up.
“Me, too. I’m glad you came by. Enjoy that latte.” He stood and tapped the table, then turned and waltzed back to the truck, where a customer stood patiently at the window.
I didn’t know how I was going to pull it off just yet, but I was going to buy this truck.
Simple as that.
14
FINGERPRINTS
I spent the evening giving Tia her lesson and catching up with Tony about the turn of events after he and Tia left for the evening, filling him in on how our surprise performance had indeed won Whitney over, and how, sadly, that magic was lost the second her good friend Ruben decided to show up. I left out the part about me wandering to Pete’s, meeting Eva, and making a fool out of myself. I felt comfortable with Tony, but I didn’t want to make things awkward. After all, I was banking on him being my first real reference when I opened up my new studio.
The reality was, I still had no idea how I was going to pay for that truck. I’d made a point to save some of the money my dad had sent me since I moved here, stashing away as much as I could for emergencies, and being as how my bills were slim and I was making extra cash teaching Tia, I’d managed to save up a bit. The amount was still nowhere near what I’d need for a down payment, though.
Liz was packed up and I was on my way out Tony’s door when he stopped me.
“Carter, my boy, hold up!” He caught the front door and rushed Tia off to her bedroom, insisting she go with Hilda to get ready for her bath. She stomped her feet and whined, but eventually complied, running off down the hall with the housekeeper/nanny while humming Queen Whitney’s song.
“What’s up, Tony?”
He waved me back inside and shut the door, clearing his throat. I scanned his face, watching as the wheels in his head churned. He rubbed at his chin, and his eyes grew watery. Holy shit, was the dude about to cry on me?
“I want you to know what a positive force you’ve been in Tia’s life,” he began, walking to the kitchen to pour himself a drink. He offered me one but I declined, still hurting from the night before. “Sit.” He pointed to the sofa and I sat, letting Liz’s case slide down my arm. My gaze was fixed on his face, completely stunned that this jolly, friendly man suddenly looked so melancholy.
“Is everything okay?” I asked.
“More than okay, more than okay. Listen, to hear Tia laugh and sing along with you…to see her joy when she says she’s learning to play guitar to sing to Mommy in heaven—” he inhaled a strangled breath, his jaw tightening, “well, it overwhelms me, Carter. You know what she says?” He laughed, shaking his head and taking a sip of his drink. “She says she wants to be good enough to play with the angels some day. So her mommy will be proud.” He choked on the last sentence. This big, teddy bear of a dude was falling apart right in front of me, and all I could think about was my dad. How fucking lucky I was to have someone who cared about me the way Tony clearly cared for Tia. It made me thankful for the heart-to-heart phone convo we’d had just last weekend.
I looked down at my shoes.
“It’s been…” I searched for the words, feeling my chest expand with a deep breath, “a real honor to teach your daughter, Tony. She’s a good kid.”
“She is,” he moved his glass back and forth, rolling it between his hands, “she is.”
“I know our arrangement is up, but if you decide you’d like me to continue teaching her, I’d be more than happy to, you know. In fact,” I leaned forward, resting my arms on my knees, “I’m looking at opening up a mobile music school. You know, for teaching private lessons, small groups, that sort of thing. I’d like to make this a full-time gig, eventually. I’m working on figuring out the details, but it’s going to happen.”
Tony’s entire countenance lightened, that merry gleam I’d come to know so well flickering in his teary-eyed gaze. “I’m so happy to hear that, my boy. Truly. That’s fantastic news, yes?”
“I hope so.” I smiled, rubbing my hands together. “It’s a risk, but I’d like to see what happens.”
“Well, I’m really glad to hear that news, because I hope you will accept this.” He reached into his pocket for his wallet and pulled out a check, quickly handing it to me. “Consider it down payment for the next twelve months. I’d like Tia to continue taking lessons with you. I’d like to make the investment, want to give her a full year’s worth. It’s a long-term commitment for a child her age, I know, but she shows such interest, such passion in learning this instrument. I just know she’ll love it. She was really crushed before you showed up tonight, knowing this was her last lesson.”
“Yeah, she was a little touchy tonight,” I laughed.
“A little?” He threw his head back, chuckling. “My boy, she would have given Aphrodite a run for her money tonight!”
My lips twisted upwards. He was right. My gaze fell to the check in my hand and a weight dropped, settling on my shoulders. “Tony…this is a lot of money. I can’t take this.”
“You can, and you will!”
“She’s just a kid. What if she gets bored of this a month from now? I can’t take such a large advance like this. Please, you should just pay me as we go.”
“She might want to give it up, who knows? She’s only 6, and kids change their minds all the time. I see that it makes her happy, and that’s all that counts. When she’s done, she’s done. You will take money. Even if she doesn’t continue, check is yours. You gave us something invaluable, here. You…how do you say…moved my family. This is the least I can do. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes, of course.”
My eyes flitted back down to the check. It was sticking to my fingers with sweat. Everything in me begged to continue arguing with him. To insist he take no for an answer. It was too much money. I needed him to take the check back and rip it up, because the gesture, no matter how thoughtful and sincere, was way, way too much. My fingertips twitched over the paper, a lump forming in my throat.
The pressure bombarded me, but my mouth formed no objections.
I quickly folded the check and nodded, slipping it into my pocket. “Thank you, Tony. You have no idea what this means to me.”
He swiftly stood, leaning over to clap me on the back. “Get moving, now, my boy. Go open that school you speak of, yes?”
My shaky knees rose and I lifted myself from the sofa, slinging Liz back over my shoulder in a daze. “I will,” I said. “You can count on it.”
Tony walked me to the door and I was off, an extra bounce in my step as I strode through Orpheus’ bustling kitchen.
***
The next few days were quiet, with no word from Jack, Emma, or Whitney. I assumed Jack and Emma were still going through their roller coaster wars, and when it came to Whitney, I figured it was just better to give her some space. The truth was, I needed some, too. I had business to take care of, and in between working down at the shop and catching up on some long, much-needed phone convos with Kate and Dean, I was planning new lessons for Tia.
The sun was going down and storm clouds were looming as I pulled up to Whitney’s place. I sat in the car in silence, staring at the steering wheel, rehearsing in my mind everything I wanted to say. I knew there was a good chance that the second I stepped through her door, I’d forget everything and my words would be rubbish, but it was worth a shot. My gaze lifted and settled on the main road. Pelicans flew over a row of palm trees, fading to graceful blurs as they disappeared into the sinking sun. I gave myself one last mental pep talk before getting out and walking to her door, thunder rolling in the distance as I knocked.
No answer.
I checked my watch, knowing she should be home right now. I’d called the diner to make sure she wasn’t working that night, and her car was parked in the lot, just two spaces down from mine. “Whit?” I called out, giving the door another knock. I heard some laughter, and then the low sound of some bass. Moving my ear to the door, I listened hard.
Music. The Red Hot Chili Peppers. “Otherside,” to be exact.
I hesitantly tried turning the knob, thankfully finding it unlocked. The music surrounded me, mixed with more laughter. I walked to the kitchen, my feet stuck like cement at the sight: Whitney, on the floor, scrubbing the tile in her maid uniform.
Sweet Jesus, there was a God.
Her skirt was hiked to high heaven, the curves of her ass in clear view. She bobbed her head while she sang, her hips rocking from side to side. She wasn’t fooling around with that floor. Her thin, determined hands were scrubbing away, stopping occasionally to dip the brush in a bucket of soapy water.
Stepping in further to see around the counter, I spotted Emma next to her, scrubbing and looking tipsy. She was singing, too, laughing every few seconds like she was entertained by her own performance.
I finally spoke up, realizing I should put a stop to the whole stalking creeper thing. “Hey,” I said, startling them both. Emma fell back on her butt, dropping her scrub brush, and Whitney toppled over to the side.
“Carter?” she asked, wobbling to her feet. “What are you doing here?”
“Oops, looks like I need another shot!” Emma jumped to her feet and weaved around us, taking the bottle of tequila with her.
“Emma!” Whitney hissed, glowering at her friend.
“I’ll be in the bedroom. Good luck, Carter!” Emma wiggled her fingers in the air and smiled at me before disappearing down the hall. Whitney’s glare followed Emma like daggers, but it did no good. She was stuck with me, and she knew it.