Page 52 of Rebel Summer

He gave me a pained expression, but once he saw I was in earnest, he set his phone back down.

“The eighties,” he said. “Looks like you’re a disgrace too, Books.”

I smiled sheepishly, my legs moving to the beat. “Maybe.”

We sat listening for a long moment, and I attempted to keep my hands busy eating fries until I couldn’t help it any longer and busted out an amazing air guitar solo during the chorus. Dax leaned forward, his head in his hands, pretending embarrassment, but I saw him hide a smile.

When the song ended and “Desperado” by the Eagles took its rightful place in the speakers, Dax nudged me. “Why do you like that song?”

I was coming down from the high that song always gave me, and it took a moment to formulate my words. It didn’t make sense at the same time that it made perfect sense.

“It’s one of the few good memories I have with my dad.” I adjusted my position in the seat. “I think I was seven or eight, and he had just gotten elected to be a state rep. It was after we all found out, and this song came on, and my dad picked me up, and we danced around the kitchen to it. We were both laughing.” I paused and bit back a smile. Even now, the memory still made me feel happy. “Anyway, even though I know it wasn’t real, I still love this song.”

“Why wasn’t it real?” His low voice covered me like a warm blanket.

A surprising wetness burned in my eyes before I blinked it back. I would crash into another building before I cried talking about this with him.

“Because it wasn’t me that made him happy. It was still something selfish. I was just the person closest to him after he won. But still, it’s …” I broke off and turned away, attempting to be casual while hiding the tears that were forming.

I didn’t fool Dax, but he didn’t bring attention to my emotions. Instead, he sighed.

“Alright, Books. I have to defend my honor. What’s your question? You get one.”

I sucked in a breath, waiting for him to tell me he was joking. But other than standing up to throw our wrappers in the garbage, he seemed to be waiting for me to ask him something.

“Tick-tock, Caroline. Some of us have work to do.”

I had so many questions for him. One wouldn’t begin to satisfy the curiosity, so I had to choose carefully. He was already rummaging through his tools. Now wasn’t the time for deep and introspective. He’d find a way to brush me off.

“Alright, how did you get into seventies music?”

His hand paused slightly before grabbing a wrench hanging on his pegboard.

“Keith always had it playing in the shop.”

A sad smile came to my face when I thought of the sweet mechanic. He always remembered my name and would have candy for me and my friends in his pocket. Whether I was five or seventeen, I never walked away from him without a butterscotch candy in my hand. The entire town had mourned the loss of Keith to a heart attack three years back.

“Yeah. He was the best.”

“He was.” Dax’s gaze wandered to the boat he probably wished he was fixing right now, but he stayed where he was. “We got to be pretty close when I worked here in high school.” Dax ran his hand through his hair. “He was…one of the reasons I graduated high school.”

“Why?” I asked.

“There was one time in our junior year when Beau and I broke down one of the ferries ‘cause we were trying to get out of going to school. Remember that?”

“Yeah. I remember the other ferry showed up ten minutes later. We still had to go to school, and you guys got in big trouble.”

Dax laughed. “Yeah, we didn’t think that one through too well. Anyway, Keith found out and told me he wasn’t going to teach me skills like that if I was going to abuse them.” A soft smile touched Dax’s lips before he continued. “He told me I’d always have a job with him, but I had to graduate high school first.”

Dax looked like he was about done talking when he must have remembered the original question. “Anyway, he loved this music. He always had it playing in here. It took a while before I started liking it. Not every song from that decade was a hit, but I have my favorites.”

He had gathered his tools and was about to get back to work, but I wanted more. Always.

“You play it because it reminds you of him?”

He waited a beat. “Maybe a little.”

“Thanks for telling me that.” I gave him a proud smile, to which he rolled his eyes.

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