Page 6 of Sweet T

“I’m hungry. You want a sandwich?” Tucker said.

“Yeah, but only if you’ve got some real peanut butter. I don’t want that oily shit you have to stir up.”

* * *

Titus had the processed peanut butter Shelly craved, so they made their sandwiches in the main house’s kitchen, snagging bags of potato chips—the same individual servings her mother had given them as children. Even though Tucker now lived in the pool house, the larger house felt more like home to both of them. They’d been snacking in this kitchen for as long as they could remember.

They took their paper plates out to the pool with a couple of canned soft drinks. As they returned to the table, a white pickup truck was pulling through the gate.

“There’s one of your daddies now.”

Pedro hopped out of the truck and waved. “Hey kiddos,” he said, approaching with a bottle of water. “What’s for lunch?”

“Peanut butter,” Tucker said. “Yours maybe. We raided the kitchen.”

“It’s your kitchen as much as ours. You know that.” He opened a bottle and took a swig, joining them at the table.

“Short day?” Tucker asked.

Pedro shook his head. “No. I was out this way and decided to break for lunch. I’m a little jealous though. It’s hot, and the pool is very tempting. Alas, I have two more projects to oversee before my day is done.”

Pedro was a landscaper. He, Titus, and their friend, Alden, had formed TSA—Torres, Shepard, and Abernathy—landscaping company back in the 1990s. Pedro had bought them both out over a decade ago when Titus had become mayor and Alden had started an appraisal business. He changed the name to Pedro’s Pro Landscaping at the time as TSA was now unfortunately associated with the tragic events of 9/11.

Shelly checked her phone. “Oh, my gosh. It’s afternoon already. I need to get moving.”

“Fitbit?” Pedro asked. “Surely not. You’re much too young to be worrying about your figure, especially in that beautiful gold bathing suit. Is that one of your creations?”

“It is,” Shelly said, pushing the remains of a sandwich into her mouth. She stood and offered Pedro a little spin. “You like?”

“My dear, your talent has no bounds.” He glanced at Tucker. “You too, Sweet T. I’m lucky to be blessed with such gifted children.”

“Why are you off so soon?” Tucker asked. “I don’t plan on heading to work until at least four. Three at the earliest.”

“I want to get a class in before work.” She reached for her shorts on a neighboring chair and stepped into them. “I’m trying to stack classes earlier in the week because the closer we get to the weekend, the less motivated I become. I also have a jacket I’m working on that I want to finish up.”

“Sounds like you have a full day ahead of you.”

She grinned, pulling her t-shirt over her head. “Every day, P. But I love it. I’m working toward a goal. We just have to get this guy moving in a similar direction.”

“Leave me out of it,” said Tucker. “I have a business. I’m quite happy with just that.”

They both stared at Tucker.

“What?” he asked. “It’s not enough to run your own business?”

“I don’t think business is what Shelly’s talking about.” Pedro said.

“I’m not,” she said, then paraphrased, in a terrible Grace Jones imitation. “He needs a man to make his dreams come true.”

Tucker flushed scarlet, raising his hand to his eyes.

“My God,” Pedro said. “You are your mother’s child. She loved her disco.”

“I have all those CDs now. T, don’t make me go all Donna Summer on you.”

“Y’all just need to leave me alone. I’m fine.”

“He works hard for the money!”

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