Page 3 of Accidental Fire
No guy wants to hear those words if he’s interested in a relationship with a woman, but she’d said them and then kissed my cheek as she walked away. I’d continued going to the poké truck a couple of times a week, and Alayiah and I had still talked while I ate my dinner, but things between us were never the same.
After that, I gave up on finding someone I might have a future with. My hand and I got along just fine, and there was a lot of porn online to get me where I needed to go.
“No, Nate, nobody special. I’m too young to be tied down. So, let’s say Iconsiderthis job you’re offering. When does it start?”
Was I really giving this serious thought? Hell, maybe a little excitement was in order. Summer was coming, and a change of scenery might get me out of my current funk.
“Come to Santa Monica and let’s go over everything. I’ll get all the players down here for you to meet before you make a final decision. Bring Leif with you. You guys can stay with me for a few days, and we’ll catch up.”
I wasn’t sure if Pop could be away from the ladies that long, but I’d ask. It wouldn’t hurt him to get away from the house either.
“How long has this been in the fridge?” I held out a red casserole dish with peppers and sausage. Some of it was gone, but it appeared to have seen better days.
Dad was standing over my shoulder, scowling. “It’s Patsy Bryer’s sausage-pepper-and-onion casserole. It was good, but it gave me indigestion. I know how to clean out a refrigerator, Kit.”
“I know, but we’re going to Santa Monica for a few days, and it’ll stink by the time we get home.” There were a million plastic storage containers of various sizes in the fridge, most of them with indiscernible contents. I dragged the trash can over and went to town.
“Don’t throw those away. I’ll wash them. They’re not single-use, you know.” He started pulling them out of the trash, but I stopped him.
“Pop, those are restaurant carryout containers. They don’t keep food fresh. See the hole in the top? I’ll buy you some containers if you need some more. Don’t save these things.”
My father was in his mid-sixties and still refused to officially retire. He was an accountant and had about twenty-five loyal businesses he worked with, so I didn’t see him leaving the workforce any time soon.
He was in great shape, played golf and pickleball a few times a week, and walked about eight miles a day. He did his own yard work and hung his own Christmas lights because I didn’t do it right. He really was self-sufficient, but I could tell he was lonely, based on the sadness in his eyes when he looked at the picture of Mom on the mantel in the living room.
“Santa Monica? Why? I’m still finishing up the paperwork from tax season, son. I’ve got a date tomorrow night, and a tee-time on Sunday.” Yeah, he had a lot more going on than I did.
I was scheduled to haul a load of produce from the Port of Los Angeles to Denver, leaving on Friday and returning to El Segundo on Monday. I owned my own Peterbilt semi andhauled anything and everything when needed. My dream was to have my own boat charter service, but that was a reach at the moment. Being my own boss and having a say over which jobs I took was enough for now.
“I’ve gotta haul a load of produce to Denver, but I’ll be back on Monday afternoon, so we can go on Tuesday. I’ll call Nate and tell him we’ll be there for lunch. He wants me to do him a favor, and I want to know exactly what that means before I agree.”
I could see Pop wanted to decline the invite, but I cut him off before he opened his mouth. “Bring your golf clubs. I’ll get Nate to get you guys a tee-time at his fancy country club, and I’ll caddy for you. When was the last time you went to Santa Monica?”
Pop grinned. “It’s been a while. I always got along with Nate, so yeah, I’ll go. What the hell?” He nodded, and I went back to cleaning out the fridge, happy to have won a small battle.
“I’ll Find You”
I wake up alone,
I go to bed the same way.
I’m tired of going out,
I wonder where you are today?
There once was a time,
I thought I’d found a true love.
But in the blink of an eye,
it flew on the wings of a dove.
I reached over and turned down the radio as I stopped at the gate of Nate’s Santa Monica estate and pressed the button on the intercom. Forty minutes to go fifteen miles from Pop’s house in El Segundo to Santa Monica was a crime in my opinion.
“May I help you?”
“Hi. It’s Kit and Leif. We’re here to see Nate.”
