Page 12 of Lemon Crush

In high school, he was voted most popular. Class clown. Sexiest AV club member. “Hollywood Haywood,” they’d calledhim. Most likely to be a famous director or the first openly bisexual president of the United States.

They were right about the fame part. He was more than well-known now. Like August, only with films instead of fantasy books. She built worlds out of thin air and my wildest dreams, and he showed a harsh reality that was painful but necessary to know. It hadn’t surprised me that they’d both found their way to entertainment hubs on opposite ends of the country while I stayed right here in the center where I’d always been. What wassurprising was that they’d both come back for longer than a short and sweet holiday visit.

“It’s been two years of this, right?”

I didn’t have to ask what he meant. “Almost. The consulate shit got complicated and then they had to save up to pay for the flights and the cruise. Luckily, they have a friend there, so there wasn’t a time limit or anything.”

“I don’t mean to come off like a callous ass.” Kingston frowned thoughtfully. “Sam was the best. She introduced me to her connections, was always there when I needed advice, and I’m not blowing smoke when I say I wouldn’t be where I am without her. I was just thinking it’s been almost two years since her celebration of life, and this must be bringing it all up again for both of her daughters.”

Was that what was going on with August? Maybe. Morgan had mentioned money being tight as the reason she’d backed out of the trip, so that probably wasn’t helping either. They hadn’t even gone out to celebrate August’s birthday this year, which I was sure they’d do, since they’d skipped last year’s because she was sick. I couldn’t help feeling like I was missing something.

“That was a great sendoff, wasn’t it?” Kingston was saying. “Good food. Good music. Little August makingtwomemorial videos and having a live feed for friends who couldn’t be there. I’d say she could have followed her mom into the business, but afterhearing that eulogy she wrote, I think she made the right career choice. I’ve never been that inspired to do more with my life while wanting to cut my heart out at the same time.”

“Same here.”

“I wish I’d said yes more often.”

That was the line that stuck with me most, though everything about her speech had been unforgettable. So had the backyard, which August and Morgan had transformed for the occasion. The crowded tables surrounding the pool, each covered in turquoise linen and topped with a glass bowl filled with sand, seashells and white candles. The shining memorial cards fluttering on colorful ribbons in trees glowing with fairy lights. The stories. The laughter. The way Morgan and August ended up floating fully dressed in the pool at the end of the night, arms wrapped around each other as they listened to Sam’s favorite songs.

I’d sat there all evening. Watching, listening and grieving. And wondering if there was anything in particular August was wishing she’d said yes to.

“Now even with all that,” Kingston went on. “it’s still not finished yet. If I had to deal with that withmyfolks? That staggered grieving? Waiting that long for closure? It would fuck with my head. I’m not sure how Morgan’s done it.”

“Yeah.” I was more than ready to change the heavy topic to something less depressing. “So, what did you really want to talk about?”

“A man can’t bring breakfast to his friend without hidden motivations?”

“Sure. It makes perfect sense that you were dying to eat fast food behind my garage during the hottest month of the year.”

Kingston dropped his coy act and leaned in, his brown eyes lasering into me. “Okay, fine. I want to know why you haven’t jumped at my offer yet. You’ve been on your sister’s couch bed for a week and I’m sure Bernie’s driving you insane. Whywouldn’t you want to stay in my guest room until you find a new place? It’s giving me a complex. Plus, my townhouse is surrounded by great views, if you know what I mean. There’s a pair of single ladies I’ve already got my eye on with you in mind.”

Sighing, I polished off my sandwich and wadded up the wrapper before stuffing it into the bag. I should have known he wouldn’t be satisfied with an“I’ll think about it.”

Oscar came around the other side of the building with a biscuit in hand, headed for the shed where our new mascot had taken up residence a few days ago. The red-coated Lab was shy, though obviously not starving, and the other mechanics had taken a liking to her, so I’d let her stay for now. Though we should get a vet out to see if she was chipped and healthy.

“I appreciate the offer,” I finally said, “but I have a feeling I’d cramp your style. I’m older and set in my ways now. And since Phoebe’s taking time off for the next month, I’m left doing all the paperwork for the garage, the yoga studioandthe icehouse. Not to mention trying to cover her shifts and looking for a temporary manager at the place. I don’t have the extra energy for anything but sleep lately. I’m not good wingman material anymore.”

“You’re the one that needs a wingman,” Kingston said matter-of-factly. “I do fine on my own, even as a boring college professor. I can’t believe I left all those black-tie affairs and red carpets behind to hang out with you, my oldest friend with no sex life who’s refusing my offer of free room and board.”

“You didn’t come back for me, but if it makes you feel any better, I turned Morgan down too. She’s in another country, and I still said no.”

Mostly because I hadn’t wanted to deal with her dogs. Tilly and Angusshed on everything, barked at nothing and liked to poke people in inappropriate places with their invasively long snouts. Every time I thought about getting a dog to go with the new houseI was searching for, memories of those two expensively bred furballs made me hesitate.

I glanced over at the Lab again. She was quiet and sweet. That could work.

August had a quiet dog too. He wasn’t sweet, but he liked me. It was more than I could say for his current caretaker, though that was my fault because of the way I’d treated her when she first came back to town.

“So, it’s not only me you’re rejecting,” Kingston said in a speculative tone. “You’re just a picky old bastard who deserves your sister’s sleeper sofa?”

He wasn’t buying it, but I could hardly explain something I didn’t understand myself. Iwouldbe more comfortable in his guest room, and my back would certainly thank me for getting the hell off Bernie’s couch. I missed my California king, the one currently in storage, with its special cooling layer that was exactly the right firmness for my back. As many years as I’d been bent over or flat underneath a vehicle, some things were too important to skimp on, but it was gone until I found a place to settle down. And my gut was telling me I needed to hold off on making any big decisions on that score right now.

I couldn’t focus on anything else until I knew what was going on with August.

Which made me acrazy,picky old bastard who deserved his sister’s sleeper sofa. I might need my head examined. But before I did that, I needed to give my niece a raise as soon as she got back to work. I hadn’t realized how much she did, or that her decision to rest up and keep her blood pressure low enough for a home birth would be such a pain in my ass. Maybe I should find out how good Dalton was with computers. I wasn’t lying when I said I was exhausted.

I raised my orange juice in a mock toast. “Here’s to picky old bastards and their nosy old friends.”

He snorted and returned the gesture, but before I could take a drink, my phone buzzed.

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