Page 8 of Snowbirds
He asked the question anyway. “Dad, what kind of car does Frank own?”
“Oh, um.” His dad flicked the turn indicator and maneuvered into the narrow parking space next to their home. “Frank has a RAV4, I think, and a motorbike. Why? Are you thinking about buying a car? We could check out a few while you’re down here.”
The only thing worse than spending the day wandering around the swap meet would be wandering around several used car lots. He’d still be hot and sweaty, but he’d also have to fend off smarmy salesmen.
“No, Dad, I am not in the market for a new car at the moment.”
A sinking-tingly feeling of dread plus anticipation made his stomach churn. There was only one person in the world that the ugliest car Chris had ever laid eyes on belonged to, and that was Ivan Morrison.
Ivan Morrison, whose picture should be next to the wordchaosin Webster’s Dictionary: Ivan Morrison, Chaos Factor.
What the hell was Ivan Morrison doing in Surprise, Arizona?
There was only one way for him to find out. Chris pushed open the car door but paused with one foot on the pavement and one still inside the car as a more horrifying thought occurred to him. Frank’s house was locked up tight right now.
Whereexactly was Ivan Morrison, and just how long had he been here?
“Sounds like your mom has guests over,” his dad commented innocently over his shoulder, turning away from the front door and instead heading around to the back patio.
“Guest, one guest,” Chris corrected as he scrambled to get out of the car. “What the actual fuck?”
“What? Is something the matter?” Lance asked.
Everything was the matter. Morrison and his parents, together? Disaster.
Jogging across the street, Chris swiped his hand across the hood of the Taurus. It had been parked in the shade of a palm tree and was cool to the touch—at least, not scorching hot. He tried to calculate how just long that would take and thus how many hours Morrison had been there, and… he couldn’t. The answer wastoo long.
“Nothing, just… nothing,” Chris said, catching back up with his dad.
After an entire day wandering the swap meet with Lance Hatch, all Chris wanted to do now was hide over at Frank’splace with a cold beer and maybe some cheap Mexican food. The dream slipped from his grasp when a deep, loud laugh that he recognized as Ivan Morrison’s reached his ears. He’d heard it often enough, after all. And as much as it irritated him in the moment, the sound inevitably made him smile in other circumstances. Morrison always made him smile.
He wasn’t smiling now. No way. Not going to happen.
His dad looked over his shoulder again, motioning for him to hurry up. “Come on, son, sounds like happy hour has already started.”
Chris slowly trailed after his dad while still trying—and failing—to work out what the fuck Morrison was doing in Arizona.
It couldn’t be anything good.
Comingaround the corner of the house, Chris paused and watched his dad kiss his mom on the head and then plop down on the chair next to hers.
As he’d thought, it was only Morrison and his mom out on the patio. The neighbors hadn’t been invited over for an impromptu party—not yet anyway. But the two of them had been making enough noise to wake the dead. Luckily, quiet hours didn’t start for a while.
His mom appeared to notice Chris first.Appearedbeing the operative word. Morrison wouldn’t still be alive if he wasn’t always aware of his surroundings. Even if the empty tumbler in his large hand indicated the man had finished off at least one of his mom’s dangerous “special” vodka lemonades.
“Sweetheart!” his mom exclaimed. “Look who I found!”
Morrison shot him a cheeky grin and Chris narrowed his eyes at him in return. Morrison shrugged back.
Oh, yeah, the man knew he was in deep shit.
“Dad, this is”—Chris scrambled for the right words—“my friend, Ivan Morrison. Morrison, this is my dad, Lance. I see you’ve met Mom already.”
“Don’t be afraid to use the word boyfriend, Chris,” his mom gushed. “We’ve been chatting for hours. I can’t believe you’ve never mentioned Ivan to us before. But he explained that you’ve only recently decided you two are serious. Makes my mom heart so happy.” His mom clapped one hand across her chest dramatically and nowhere near her heart. Chris speculated that Susie’s lemonade specials must be even stronger than usual, and they were usually damn strong.
Now Morrison was decidedly not looking Chris’s way. Chris moved over, directly into Morrison’s line of sight, and mouthed,Boyfriend?
Morrison shrugged again. Chris decided to ignore the fact that he wasn’t exactly pissed off by Morrison’s use of the word.
