The First Time Again: The Braddock Brotherhood, Book 3 (13 page)

“I don’t get it,” Trey said. “Somebody was interested enough to train him. How’d he end up here?”

Matty shrugged and spoke over the sound of running water. “Maybe they couldn’t keep him or didn’t want him anymore. People throw out things all the time. Pets. Kids. A dog doesn’t have any say in what people do. One day he’s got a roof over his head. The next day he’s roaming the streets.” Matty shrugged again.

“Well, yeah, but if they took the time to teach him stuff, they must have valued him. Otherwise, why bother?”

Matty apparently considered that a rhetorical question. He turned and took the leash from Trey. “Want to come and watch?” He led Riley back to the sink, picked him up and lowered him into the tub of water. Trey moved closer.

Matty pumped dog shampoo from an industrial-size container and began to lather Riley’s fur. “Start up by the neck and go all the way around in case they’ve picked up any fleas. This stuff will kill them. Work your way down all over.” He demonstrated, although it wasn’t like Trey’d never bathed a dog before. Before Bo, his parents had another golden retriever named Buster from whom Trey had been inseparable.

Riley looked like he was in heaven as Matty worked the lather from his neck to his tail and then rinsed him. Matty kept the dog in the sink until the last of the dirty water had drained. He picked up a threadbare towel and draped it over the dog. “You want to dry him off? Then we’ll take him outside.”

Obediently Trey rubbed at Riley’s fur, although the towel was no match for the moisture it was trying to absorb. He looked around for another one, but Matty shook his head. “Miss Simpson says only one. Budget cuts.” He slipped the leash back on Riley and lifted him out of the sink. Riley promptly shook himself, spraying Trey and Matty with droplets of water. “Okay,” Matty informed him. “Let’s go.”

They went out a back door to a fenced-in, grassy area. When Matty released him, Riley trotted over to the nearest fence post and lifted his leg. Once finished, he put his nose to the ground, then ambled across the grass and squatted to do his business. He came back to Matty and Trey and gazed at them expectantly, tail wagging.

“Wish we had a ball,” Trey said. “Maybe he’d chase it.” He made a mental note to bring one with him next time.

Matty patted Riley’s side. “His new family will play with him. Right, Riley?” Riley gazed at Matty adoringly. “I’ll take him in and get Spanky. You want to start filling the tub?”

Matty allowed Trey to give Spanky a bath under his close supervision. The kid wasn’t afraid to offer helpful hints or point out that Trey needed to bathe the dog
everywhere
, including his undercarriage. Spanky wasn’t as thrilled to get a bath as Riley had been. He squirmed and fought the restraint and shook himself off every chance he got until Trey’s midsection was soaked.

“A plastic apron or some rain gear would have been nice,” Trey commented after Matty lifted Spanky from the tub and rubbed him dry.

“I think they used to have some, but—”

“Let me guess,” Trey said dryly, as he rinsed the last of the dirty water down the drain. “Budget cuts.”

Matty shrugged and they went outside. Spanky didn’t seem to quite know what to with himself. He tentatively sniffed at the grass before moving away and finally deciding it was okay to let go.

“How’d you hurt yourself?” Matty asked Trey.

Refreshing, Trey thought. Someone who didn’t know his history and wouldn’t hold it against him. “Old football injury,” he answered. “Messed up my knee pretty badly.”

“You gonna limp forever?”

“I hope not. I started physical therapy again. Believe it or not, today’s a good day for me.”

Matty gave him an assessing look. “You play here? At Hendersonville High?”

“Yeah. When you were still wearing diapers.”

“Team’s going to suck this year,” Matty informed him.

“So you volunteer here? I thought you were doing community service, same as me.” Trey wanted to change the subject before Matty could ask more questions about his football career.

“Me and some friends, we did some stupid stuff. I got probation.”

“What kind of stupid stuff gets you busted these days? Unless you’d rather not say.” Trey was genuinely curious. Matty seemed like a decent kid. Mary Ann Simpson obviously thought highly of him. Maybe Matty’d gotten a bad rap. Or maybe a local cop had it in for him.

“Smokin’ weed. Vandalizing school property. Stuff like that.”

They were slouching against the outside wall of the building, gazing at Spanky while he poked around in the grass.

“Back in my day…” Trey hesitated. “Man, I sound old, don’t I?”

“You are old.” A smile flashed across Matty’s face, giving Trey a glimpse of the little boy he’d been not long ago.

Pretending annoyance, Trey cleared his throat. “Back when I was your age, what are you, sixteen? Seventeen?”

“Sixteen.”

“Weed wasn’t all that popular but beer was. There was this old cop used to be on duty on the weekends. He’d bust us pretty regularly. Dragged my sorry ass home a couple of times. Always let me off with a warning. Probably because he knew my parents would give me a stiffer sentence than he could.”

Matty glanced sideways at Trey. “Did they?”

“Oh, yeah. First I’d get grounded. No car. No phone. No extracurricular activities. My dad would invent all kinds of work for me to do, stuff he knew I hated. Helping him with inventory at the hardware store. Cleaning out the garage. Pulling weeds.

“Plus he’d give me this sort of tight-lipped silent treatment to let me know how much I’d disappointed him.”

“Too bad kids don’t have something like that to let their parents know when they’ve disappointed
them
,” Matty put in.

Trey turned to lean a shoulder against the wall so he could look at Matty directly. “Huh. I never thought about my parents disappointing me. They were great parents. Still are, actually.”

“Lucky you,” Matty said grimly. “What about your mom? Did she give you the silent treatment too?”

Trey grinned. “My mom never stayed mad at me for long. She’d tell me what she thought about whatever I’d done and she’d go along with my dad’s punishment. But she’d make up for it by cooking my favorite dinner and baking cookies. Hugging me when he wasn’t around.”

“That must have been nice.” Matty’s tone turned wistful. He gazed out across the fenced area.

“What about your—”

“Come on, Spanky.” Matt clapped his hands, effectively cutting Trey off. The dog ambled over and Matty secured the leash.

Matty introduced Trey to a couple of the other staff members and showed him a few other things he could do to help out on the days he was there, one of which was cleaning the bathroom. Matty handed him a wad of paper towels and spritzed the glass front door with window cleaner, indicating Trey could do the hard part.

“Missed a spot,” Matty informed him when Trey thought he was done.

“Smart-ass,” Trey told him good-naturedly under his breath. Matty grinned.

As they were leaving, Trey glanced at the clouds that had formed overhead. The air had cooled and a breeze had picked up. A few fat raindrops began to fall. He saw Matty removing his bicycle from the nearby bike rack. Trey unlocked the Cayenne with a click of the remote. “You want a ride?” he called to Matty.

Matty glanced at the sky and then at Trey’s vehicle. More raindrops fell. Thunder rumbled and a flash of lightning streaked across the sky.

“Come on.” Trey lifted the hatch and lowered the back seat while Matty hustled over with his bike. He hoisted it in and jogged around to the passenger door.

He buckled his seatbelt and sat back, doing his best not to show his awe. A Porsche Cayenne? Silently Matty admired the buttery leather seats and luxurious interior. The race-car design of the instrument panel and gearshift.

“Nice ride,” he said as Trey pulled out of the shelter parking lot.

“You got a license?” Trey asked, glancing at him before returning his gaze to the road.

“Yeah.” Matty didn’t want to tell Trey he’d barely used his driver’s license. He had no car and nowhere to go if he did.

“I’ll make you a deal. You clean the toilets, I’ll let you drive next time.”

Matty shot a suspicious glance in Trey’s direction. “Really?” Probably another case of an adult promising something he wouldn’t deliver.

“If you want.”

Trey acted like it was no big deal so Matty tried to do the same, but it didn’t come easily. “Sure,” he said as nonchalantly as he could.

“You hungry? I’m starving. I’ll buy. Since you did all the hard work today.”

Rain had begun to pelt the windshield. Matty refrained from pointing out the obvious. Stopping somewhere to eat meant they’d be soaked by the time they got inside.

“There’s a Sonic out near the overpass, right?” Trey asked.

“Yeah,” Matty acknowledged. “But I live on the other side of town.”

“You in a hurry to get home? I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“No. It’s okay.”

The rain kept falling, but underneath the Sonic drive-in area, Trey parked and killed the engine. He lowered the windows and asked Matty what he wanted. Matty’d only been to the Sonic one time, over a year ago, after it first opened. Because he wanted to act like it was no big deal, he stuck to the basics. A hamburger, fries and a root beer.

“So what are you doing all summer? You got a job?” Trey asked after he’d placed their order.

“No.” He didn’t want to admit to Trey that he slept as late as he could and then he hung out with twelve-year-old twins until their mother came home from work. The twins were as bored as he was. When Lisa came home, she turned into a drill sergeant, setting all three boys to work, cleaning the house and helping her with dinner preparation. Matty sensed Lisa didn’t quite know what to do with him. She treated him as if he were a twelve-year-old as well, assigning him tasks and serving him a meal. At some point during the day Dan would appear. He’d engage in half-hearted conversation with his son and grandsons while he rummaged in the refrigerator or pantry. He’d sit at the table and absently gaze at the newspaper while he ate a bowl of cereal or a piece of toast. His ghost-like presence had a dampening effect on the boys’ normal shenanigans and cutting up.

Most evenings Matty biked over to Mamacita’s to check up on her and keep her company.

“You can’t spend every day at the shelter.”

“No. Mostly I’m only there on Saturdays.”

“You want a job?”

A flicker of suspicion flashed through Matty’s head once again. Everything about this guy seemed too easy. “Doing what?”

“I’m living in my grandparents’ old place. I need somebody to mow the grass and weed my grandmother’s garden. There are a couple of outbuildings about to fall down. I thought between the two of us, we could help them along. I haven’t even looked in the barn, but I imagine there’s a lifetime of stuff out there to go through and decide what to do with.”

“What are you paying?” Matty already knew he’d do it. He could hardly believe a job had landed in his lap. After filling out applications at the Dixie Cream and Piggly Wiggly, he discovered jobs for kids like him weren’t very plentiful in Hendersonville.

“I guess minimum wage to start. What’s that? Eight dollars an hour now?”

“Less than that,” Matty told him.

“Can’t be much less. I’ll start you at eight, anyway. See how it goes. If you’re interested.”

“I’m interested.”

Their food arrived and they dug in, shelving conversation for a while. Trey selected a CD in the stereo. Matty didn’t know what it was, but it was bluesy and rock and roll mixed together and he liked it.

By the time Trey drove back through Hendersonville, following Matty’s directions, the rain had let up.

“Right here’s good,” Matty said, indicating for Trey to pull over at the next corner.

“So where should I pick you up Monday morning?” he asked.

“Here’s good. Thanks for the ride.” Trey released the rear hatch lock mechanism and Matty removed his bike.

Trey lowered the passenger window. “Eight a.m., right?” he called.

“I’ll be here,” Matty assured him.

“What’s he doing here?” Baylee asked Trey on Monday morning. She was loading the dishwasher with everything Trey had allowed to accumulate in the sink over the weekend. From the window she had a clear view of the flower garden, where Matty was toiling away pulling weeds.

Trey’d given him a pair of Grandpa Mike’s gardening gloves and hauled a wheelbarrow out of the barn so he could cart away the unwanted vegetation. Trey hoped Matty knew better than he did what was a weed and what was a flower.

He followed Baylee’s gaze out the window. “He’s weeding the garden,” he told her, wondering why she expected him to state the obvious.

Baylee sent him a glance he couldn’t quite decipher. “I can see he’s weeding the garden. What I meant is why is
he
here. As in, where did you find this particular person to weed the garden?”

“Is there a problem?”