Page 12 of Just Trouble

“No, Bruno, you’ve got to charge me. I’ll pay the full price.” He starts to argue and I raise a hand. “Seriously. Let me.”

“Okay, then you take the best room, the one we renovated last year, and you have to come for dinner tonight.”

I’m surprised to feel all warm inside. “Deal. Now, what about this bike?”

“Let me get you a beer first.”

“I’m up for that.”

“Nothing fancy, now. I’ve got a two-four of Blue, just like always. You’re probably used to some European boutique beer.”

I grin. “Blue sounds great.” I check out his progress on the bike as he gets the beer. He brings back two bottles, glistening with sweat.

“Are you in town for long?” he asks, after we’ve toasted each other and taken a swig

It tastes like tradition.

“Maybe a week,” I say and he nods. “I’m not sure. I have some things to get sorted.”

“Fair enough. We don’t have many bookings before July, so take your time. Now, what’s the deal with this engine?”

“It’s always been the timing.” I chuck off my jacket and crouch down beside him to get to work. I know this bike like the back of my hand. I feel like I worked on it just yesterday, that I was here, in this parking lot, taking apart bikes with Bruno just last week. The dates on the newspapers were different but not much else. He’s losing a bit of hair on top and has put on some weight around the middle, but he’s the same amiable, kind, generous guy I remember from high school. “Your folks still here?” I ask as we get to work.

“Nah, they retired to BC and gave us the motel. It’s not making us rich, but we like it. Marissa will be excited to see you. She works in Havelock now.”

“Marissa Talbot.”

“Nuh uh. Marissa DeLuca,” he corrects me with a grin.

“Prettiest girl in high school.”

“You just say that because she’s the one who turned you down.”

“You beat me to it.”

He laughs. “Good thing, too.”

“You look like a happy man, Bruno.”

“How could I not be?”

“I’ll guess there are kids,” I say because he’s bursting to tell me.

“Three,” he says with pride, handing me a wrench. He tells me about the kids and their activities in excruciating detail—which is actually quite sweet—and the kids themselves start to appear when we’re on our second beer. By the time Marissa arrives, I’ve been pulled into the warm hug of their family like I never left at all.

There’s lasagna and five conversations happening at once, a crowded table with mismatched cutlery, a red wine that’s not half bad, and the coziness of their kitchen in the end unit, which I remember so well. The pictures of his folks are on the wall, smiling as it they’re at the table with us, too. Marissa makes her lasagna half with meat and half without, so I have the middle daughter to thank for being able to stick to my dietary choices without any bother at all.

The conversation ebbs and flows, and I just sit, eat and enjoy, appreciating them both so much my heart hurts.

Maybe there is something I’ve missed about Empire, after all.

3

DAPHNE

Luke’s gone with a roar, no doubt leaving a cloud of dust in his wake. He might have been a mirage or a figment of my imagination, but I can still smell that cologne of his, the one I like too much.

I have hot shivers and goosepimples for no logical reason at all.

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