Abby Road (9 page)

Todd turned around and rested his back against the glass, looking mentally exhausted, like he’d solved a long-division problem in his head.

“And they say chivalry’s dead.”

“Did you mind my ordering for you?”

I shook my head. Sure, Max had bossed me around for the past five years, but Todd’s bullying me through the door and deciding what he thought I’d like for lunch—that felt different. “How did you know, though?” I asked, leaning against the counter beside him.

“Know what?”

“I prefer Swiss cheese and sprouts.”

He smiled first and then chuckled, replaying something funny in his mind. “I would say you’re an open book, Abby, but I wouldn’t want to insult you.”

I smiled back as the heavenly scent of fresh food mingled with the memory of his aftershave. A part of me wanted time to stand still, to live in the simplicity and normality of the moment, while the frantic part of me was torn between shoveling food in my face and/or tackling this guy to the floor and smothering his bread with something other than mustard. Sometimes my physical cravings were difficult to differentiate.

This was forgotten when I got a familiar prickly feeling up the back of my neck. It was a girl around twelve with curly red hair and a short yellow skirt a few aisles over, staring at me. She whispered to a boy a year or two older. I forced the corners of my mouth to smile and waved my fingers.

At my simple acknowledgment, the girl let loose a loud shriek. “Told you it was her!”

More giggling ensued until an adult shushed them.

I knew Todd caught the whole thing. I wished he hadn’t. I wished
I
hadn’t.

Bob handed Todd two bags over the counter. “Any sides?”

Seeing the huge size of the sandwiches through the bags, I shook my head. Todd ignored my protest and leaned over to me. “We’re ordering more food, okay? You seem pretty . . .” His eyes looked me up and down discreetly. “Hungry.”

When his gaze dropped to my mouth for just a split second, my throat went completely dry.

“Do you want salad or pasta?” he asked. Before I could open my mouth, he said, “I think we’ll take both.”

“Dessert?” Bob asked him as if I weren’t standing there.

“One slice of key lime pie. Two forks.” I felt Todd’s hand on my arm. “You’ll thank me later.”

No doubt I would.

We left the market, taking the three hundred steps across Town Square back to Todd’s Tackle. Todd led the way as we paraded through the gonging front door.

A very tan young man with shiny white teeth and a blond, bleached-out mop of hair glanced up. He waved from behind a pile of colorful board shorts he was attempting to fold.

“What’s with the dang holdup, boss man?” he called out with goofy enthusiasm. A pair of neon green shorts hung off the tip of the finger he pointed at Todd. “I’m starvin’ like Marvin!”

“Minor detour first,” the boss man replied.

“It was my fault,” I inserted as I emerged from behind Todd.

Startling me, Todd whipped around so that his body was blocking Chandler’s view of me. “Are you sure?” he whispered, his face bent down to mine. “I can just drop this off, if you’d prefer.” Between our two bodies he was holding the bag with Chandler’s pastrami sandwich inside. “Just give me two seconds, and we’ll be off. He doesn’t have to, um, bother you.”

“You
claim
you’re safer than an armored car,” I whispered back. Then I snatched the bag from him. “Prove it.”

Todd lifted one eyebrow. “Oh, you’re good.”

Without taking his eyes off me, he said, “Chandler, I’d like you to meet—”

“Hold up.”

In unison, Todd and I turned toward the goofy kid.

His finger with the hanging shorts was now pointing at me. “You look exactly like—”

“Chandler!”

The kid jumped about a foot, almost as high as I did, but his eyes obediently fixed on Todd.

Todd took a beat—after knowing he had his employee’s complete attention—and cleared his throat, staring the poor kid down like a lion tamer.

It was easy to see that Todd was very good at holding someone’s attention when he wanted to. I’d already fallen under that spell a few times that day, and it was pretty obvious poor Chandler was no match, either.

“Chandler.” Todd’s voice was deliberate and controlled now. “This. Is. Abby.” He was holding his hands out in front of him, the tamer approaching the beast. “Okay?”

Oh, brother. Such drama
. I stepped between them and extended my hand. “Hi, Chandler.” I beamed. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

He didn’t lift his hand to shake mine. In fact, the kid didn’t move at all. I lowered my hand to pick up his, which was hanging like a dead thing at his side, and gave it a hardy shake.

“Uhh, nice to meet me,” Chandler garbled. “Oh, I mean I love you, I mean . . . umm, er, uh?” He swore under his breath and pulled his hand from mine, his tan face turning the same shade as the bright pink T-shirt he was wearing.

Todd glanced at me, showing his bottom teeth. “We don’t let him out much.”

“Don’t worry about it.” I waved dismissively. “Here, we brought you lunch.” I handed Chandler the bag.

He looked like he was on the verge of another out-of-body freak-out. “Abigail Effing Kelly,” he spoke slowly, “is bringing me lunch?” He lifted his chin and let out one loud cackle. “
Totally
off the
chain
! Wait’ll the guys hear this!”

I shot Todd a look.

“Hey, be a mate,” he said to Chandler, “and don’t mention this to anyone.
Capiche
?” Todd sounded plenty stern as he continued to reel in his overly enthusiastic employee, but then I noticed something a bit more threatening in his expression when he laid one hand on Chandler’s shoulder.

Chandler, who had turned slightly green, seemed to understand the gesture. He looked from Todd to me and then back to Todd. Again, his excitement mellowed under the steady gaze of the tamer.

A moment later, Todd shook Chandler’s shoulder in a friendly way and stepped back. “You finally sold the ruby longboard,” he observed.

His employee nodded timidly.

“That’s great work, man. Really great. Congratulations.”

Chandler’s youthful animation returned as he described to Todd his big sale of the morning. They were friends with mutual respect; I could see that. When Chandler looked up to greet a customer, Todd glanced at me, pointing a thumb at his own chest. “Armored car,” he mouthed.

I lifted a hand to cover my grin.

“Well,” Todd said a few minutes later “we’d better shove off.”

I bid
adieu
to Chandler and walked to the front door. When I turned back, Todd had his hand clamped down on Chandler’s shoulder again, speaking low, looking him directly in the eyes in that . . . way.

Funny, Chandler was eighteen and Todd was probably ten years older, yet the authority he commanded made me feel like I was in the presence of a crown prince. Or a mafia don.

“What was all that?” I asked Todd when he joined me outside.

“That?” He kicked some rocks off the sidewalk and squinted up at the sun. “Oh, I merely explained to Chandler in graphic detail what will happen to his job and the rest of his existence if he tells any living soul about your being here.” He grinned sardonically and then ran an index finger across his throat.

“Poor Chandler.”

Todd rolled his eyes. “He’ll live.”

We crossed the street toward the beach. “Please say we’re eating soon,” I said, my eyes following a seagull overheard as it glided on the breeze.

“I’m trying to think of a good spot,” Todd explained, then stopped walking. “Somewhere public, but you know, off the beaten path.” He plunged his free hand into the back pocket of his long khaki shorts and stared toward the horizon. “Hmm.” His profile was pensive. And sexy. Pink mouth, straight nose, those emerald eyes. What a unique and glorious combination bestowed upon one lucky face.

I was hearing music now, swirling around us like in a movie when the tension builds. It was the love theme from
Romeo & Juliet
, or maybe that crap song from
Titanic
that everyone hates. Oh man, I loved that crap song.

“Hey, there,” Todd said, yanking me from my reverie. I stared at him and smiled. He chuckled lightly and glanced toward my midsection. “Are you going to answer that, or do you expect me to go in after it?”

I was wide awake now, hearing the actual song that was playing. Suddenly all romantic notions evaporated. It wasn’t
Romeo & Juliet
I was hearing, but The Beatles’ “Helter Skelter,” the ring tone I knew very well; it was attached to only one person’s incoming calls.

I tried not to appear as shattered as I felt as I fumbled for the cell in my pocket.

“Hello? I’m here. Hi, Max.” I spoke in a rush. “How are you?”

“Yeah, okay . . . in a minute. You, grab me that . . . no,
that
one there. Hey, babe.” He sounded distracted, like he was multitasking and I was an afterthought. “You were supposed to call yesterday.”

I pinched my eyes shut, then pictured him—his famous “annoyed with Abby” smirk; his tall, thick, built like an ex-NFL linebacker body; his piercing brown eyes; and his mouth gnawing one of those nasty cigars.

“Sorry,” I said, attempting to blink out that “enticing” image. I turned my body slightly away from Todd, trying to simultaneously shelter him and hide him. “I forgot to call. Lindsey and I . . . we . . .”

Todd tapped me on my shoulder and pointed away. “Should I wait over there?”

“No,” I whispered, lowering the cell from my ear. “It’s my manager.” I held up one finger. “I’ll just be a sec.”

“Hey!” Max called through the phone.

I slapped it to my ear. “I’m here,” I said. “Sorry. Sorry.”

“Who is that you’re talking to?” His simple question was riddled with preconceived insinuations and assumptions. I knew the tone. Max was a master at sending passive-aggressive shame. He could rival any Catholic grandmother.

I wished I didn’t have to answer. I wished I could’ve returned to watching Todd walk and talk and smile at me.

“It’s no one you know,” I offered, turning my chin to glance at Todd. “He’s a . . . friend.”

Todd smiled at me warmly, his hair blowing in the breeze. I had the overwhelming desire to hurl my phone into the Gulf like a shot put.

Max sighed. “Babe, don’t make me remind you how—”

“I know, Max,” I said, cutting him off.

We both fell silent. I shut my eyes, pounding a fist against my forehead. My mistake was interrupting Max Salinger. That was never done, you see.

“Everything’s fine!” I exclaimed before things got tense. “Nothing to worry about. It’s all good.”

Todd tapped my shoulder again and gestured toward Town Square. “I’ll be right back.” He took off running.

“Wait!” I called after him, feeling a little panicky at the thought of his absence. He stopped mid stride and turned around. “Where . . .” I lowered my voice. “Where are you going?”

“I’ll be right back,” he repeated. Without another word or a chance for me to protest, he shot up the sidewalk like a silver bullet, leaving me on the street corner.

I stared after him, wondering if he used to be a runner. Maybe he still was. Maybe he ran marathons in his spare time.
Maybe—

“Hey! Are you even listening to me?”

“Sorry, Max, sorry. I was in the middle of something, uhh, important.” I leaned back against a skinny tree and stared south toward the water. It was limpid blue and sparkling with bits of golden sunlight, calling to me like the sirens to Odysseus or like those Austrian hills did to Maria, while my cell phone felt like an iron-hot brick against my face.

“I’m sorry,” I repeated, kneading my forehead, “that I didn’t call like I promised. It won’t happen again. I swear.”

Max sighed loudly into the phone. “Dammit, babe, I was hoping this break would be good for you, but you sound even more distracted, if that’s possible. You know what happens when you’re distracted.”

I missed the old Max, the one who might have asked about my day or my flight or if I’d seen that annoying movie star, the one we both thought was majorly fuggly, on the cover of
People
magazine. For years, Max was practically a member of the family, albeit a very bossy member, which was probably why he could guilt trip me into anything if he pushed the right buttons.

I sighed softly, away from the phone. “I know; don’t worry. Everything’s fine.” I was beginning to sound like a broken record.

“Listen to me,” he said. “I’m allowing this break for you to get yourself together. We need you back here at the end of the summer, healthy and ready to work hard. You’re getting it together for me, right, babe? Or do I need to go shopping on
American Idol
for your replacement?”