Page 47 of Sweet T

“Good. I’m glad you're enjoying it. You wanna know why?”

“Why?”

“Because,” Tucker said, taking his plate to the sink. “You’re doing the dishes.”

* * *

They took turns in the shower and getting dressed. Tucker went first while Evan cleaned up the breakfast dishes. As he was drying and putting away plates, Evan could hear the shower running in the adjacent bathroom. He tried his best to devise a legitimate excuse to walk in on Tucker. Of course, the joke would be totally transparent. Sure would be fun, though, revisiting the harmless blunder from the opposite vantage.

Evan placed the dish towel on the counter and crossed to the bathroom. Pressing his ear against the door, he heard the water shut off and the shower curtain open.

He’s standing there naked right now, Evan thought. Tall, broad, blond, and buck-ass naked.

Evan placed his hand on the doorknob, gripping it tightly.

What’s your excuse? You need a funny one if you’re really gonna do it.

He couldn’t think of one.

Then he heard something, barely audible with the soft rustles of terry cloth briskly drying flesh.

It was humming. No, singing. Tucker was softly singing. It took a moment for him to recognize what, but he did. It was Hold My Hand by Jess Glynne. He could distinctly hear Tucker singing the chorus. He had a sweet voice, even if at two octaves lower than Ms. Glynne’s and a little countrified.

Evan released the doorknob and went to find something to wear.

* * *

Once Evan had showered and dressed, Tucker saw that Pedro’s hand-me-downs were a little too large on him.

“I’ve got an idea,” he said. “Let’s ride into town. I’ll show you around a bit. We’ll stop at Walmart and pick up a few things that you can wear for work.”

“What kind of things will I need?” Evan cinched a knot in the TSA t-shirt, to Tucker’s horror and delight, turning it into a makeshift crop top. “Is there a dress code?”

“Not really. We don’t wear shorts, to keep it somewhat professional. But jeans and t-shirts are fine. Standard. No exposed bellies.”

“Is that a new rule?” Evan asked, overtly nonchalant.

“It is now. What’s that?”

Evan picked up a small package he’d laid on the table.

“My samples. For the STD thing. I need to drop them in the mail.”

Spoon was closed on Sundays, the town square at least. As they turned onto the main drag, Tucker made the required joke of Evan not blinking for fear of missing it. However, the town was a slightly bigger than Evan had imagined. With traffic lights, it took just a little more than a song on the radio before they had driven through it.

They passed the Walmart going into town. There were only a few cars in the massive parking lot, mostly congregated at the fast food drive-thru there.

“Hardee’s is hopping,” said Evan.

“Sunday lunchers.”

“I see that. Fancy.”

“The only sit-down restaurants we have are Chuck’s Holy Smoke barbecue on the square and China House on the east end of town—both closed on Sundays. Most folks are at Mr. Charlie’s Sunday lunch at the country club or Maria’s Mexican restaurant over in Morehead.”

“Seems like the barbecue place would be open... to take advantage of the lack of options.”

“The square is closed on Sundays, except for the movie theater. It’s a ghost town. No traffic. Besides, Chuck and Brody work all the time. They deserve a day off.”

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