Next Stop Funnel Cake (2 page)

"Seven years. And, yeah, sure. Getting together sounds good."

It was one of those things people said, but never followed up on. I was being polite. Then he shocked the hell out of me when he fished a business card out of his wallet and handed it to me.

"Give me a call. Maybe we could grab some coffee."

"Okay."

"You look good, Travis. Really good."

I was speechless as the kid with the blue cotton candy dragged them off, ready for more fun. As the four of them walked away, I wondered what Mr. Khakis thought of the invitation Mr. Baxter had extended my way. I was ready to ball the card up and throw it into a nearby trashcan, but instead, I tucked it into the front pocket of my overalls. In my heart, I knew I'd never call, but it couldn't hurt to hold onto the card. Besides, I needed proof; otherwise, Clayton would never believe me.

* * * *

"No way! Mr. Baxter asked you out on a date."

"He did not. He wants to know how my life turned into such a spectacular failure."

"Seems pretty obvious to me. You suck, Travis."

If I hadn't been so hungry, I would have thrown my soggy French fries at him. Our lunch break was nearly over, but Clayton wasn't anywhere close to finished busting on me about getting found out by Mr. Baxter. Clayton had been another of his charges, but unlike me, he didn't find Mr. Baxter remotely attractive.

"He was being nice. That's all. There's no way I'm going to call him."

"Sure. Whatever you say. If you're not going to call him, why did you keep the card?"

"I told you, so I could show you."

"You're full of it. You kept it because you want to drink coffee with Mr. Baxter. Oh, excuse me, Andrew. How dreamy does that sound?"

Clayton was very fond of messing with me, but this time he was really enjoying himself. He was blathering on and on about me and Mr. Baxter and what our wedding would be like, right down to the music at the reception. Until Katie, the girl he liked who worked the skeeball games walked by. That made him stop quick, but not before she heard him making fake kissing sounds and saw him waving his hands around like a freak. I couldn't stop myself from laughing, even when he smacked me over the head with his Downy's hat.

"That's what you get for fucking with me, Clayton."

"Why didn't you tell me she was coming this way?"

"Why would I? I was interested to hear how Andrew and I were going to honeymoon in the Bahamas."

I drank the last of my soda and stood to throw away my trash. When I slumped back onto the picnic table bench, Clayton's tune had changed.

"Listen, dude. I think you should call him."

"Why? So you can rag on me some more?"

"No. Because you know you want to. Besides, you deserve a little fun. Lord knows, you're not going to find it spending all your time at home alone."

I looked at Clayton, waiting to see the smirk on his face, but he was as serious as I'd ever seen him.

"I can't, man. There's no way I can sit across a table from Mr. Baxter and try to explain how I ended up driving a train at a third-rate amusement park."

"So talk about something else then. Come on, Travis. He's already seen you in those ridiculous pants. How much worse could it get?"

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the card. I grinned, thinking about Mr. Baxter and how good he'd looked in his worn jeans and T-shirt. "He did say I looked good."

I thought back to his words and the look in his eyes when he said them.

Clayton chuckled before shoving a few chips in his mouth. Unfortunately for me, that didn't stop him from talking, his voice knocking me out of my moment. "See? I told you. You want to call him."

"How the hell do you know?"

"If you could see that goofy grin on your face right now, you'd see what I mean."
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It had been almost two weeks and the business card Mr. Baxter had given me was still burning a hole in my wallet. Clayton was right. I did want to call, but every time I picked up the phone, something held me back. It was always in the front of my mind, no matter how much I tried to forget that the small white card. I kept telling myself it was for the best to leave it alone. So that's what I did.

I was in the office one afternoon, trying to make sense of Nick's latest ordering fail, when the phone rang. Nick walked in the door and picked it up before I had the chance. After his standard annoying greeting, his faced turned.

"You're looking for Travis Webber?"

Nick looked at me and, as I usually did when someone wanted to talk to me, I shook my head no. The only people who asked for me at the park were disgruntled vendors or people calling to ask us to switch paper companies.

"He's not here. Can I take a message?"

Nick's face transformed into a smile, and he actually picked up a pen to write something down.

"Let me make sure I have this right. Your name is Andrew Baxter. Uh-huh. And he has the number?"

I was out of my chair at this point, trying to get Nick to hang up the phone.

"Oh, sure, I can take the number down, just in case."

I reached for the receiver, but he pushed me away.

"I will, Andrew. I'll make sure he gets the message. No, thank you."

Nick hung up the phone and started to laugh. As I slumped back into my seat, I braced myself for the onslaught.

"So, who's Andrew and why is he calling you here? Forget to give him your number after you kicked him out of bed?"

"He's my old guidance counselor. I bumped into him the other day when he was here with his family. He gave me his card and wanted to catch up."

"Let me guess. You never called him back."

"Nope. And I'm not planning on it."

"Why? If he wants to catch up with an old student, what's the big deal?"

I didn't answer him right away, but by the time I was ready to, he was already talking.

"You like him, don't you? Did you have a little crush on Mr. Baxter back in the day?"

"No. It's not like that."

"The hell it isn't. Call him. He clearly wants to meet up if he went through all the trouble of calling here."

"I can't."

"Why?"

"Like I said, when I saw him, he was here with someone. And they had kids."

"So?"

"So, even if I do like him, nothing can ever come of it."

"All the more reason to call. Have a coffee with the guy, tell him what he wants to hear and get on with your life. He probably saw you here and wants to know why you're not some big success. This is the guy who helped you in high school, right?"

"Yeah."

"So, talk to him. Maybe he can help you out again or something. Get you back to school, like you want."

"I don't need his help."

"You're being silly about this Travis. Like always."

"Can we drop it, please?"

"Sure. If that's what you want."

He walked the message over to my desk and set it down. I glanced at the number and, for a moment, thought about picking up the phone. But I couldn't. I crumpled up the paper and threw it into the trash. I could tell Nick wanted to say something, but when I met his eyes, he seemed to think better of it.

Much to my surprise, Mr. Baxter called a few more times over the next few days, but luckily, each time he did, I really was out of the office, driving that stupid train. Each time I saw the little pink message slip on my desk with his name, I tossed it. Like I had with his business card. He'd give up soon, I was sure.

* * * *

The train pulled up to the last stop and everyone streamed out in various directions. My shift was nearly over, one of the few where I didn't have to stay until closing. However, my replacement was nowhere to be found. Should have known. I felt a tap on my shoulder and turned, expecting to see the new kid my uncle had hired in his own stupid overalls. Instead, it was Mr. Baxter. It was impossible to keep the shock off my face.

"Travis, hey."

"Hi, Mr. Baxter. What are you doing here?"

I hadn't meant it to sound nasty, but there was an edge to my voice it was too late to hide.

"Um, well, I wanted to see you. You hadn't returned any of my calls, so I figured I'd show up and take my chances. I ran into Clayton Strauss running one of the games. He told me where I could find you. He also said your shift was over and that you might be available this evening."

"He did?"

"Yup."

I wanted to find Clayton and kill him, but there wasn't time.

"Well, my replacement seems to be missing in action, so it looks like I'm going to have to run the train a little while longer. Sorry you came all this way for nothing."

The words were no sooner out of my mouth than the new kid walked up, his engineer's hat turned to the side. Andrew started to laugh, but I was mortified.

"Looks like you're free now. So, how about dinner, Travis?"

"Um, I thought you said coffee."

Mr. Baxter smirked, and the look of it made my heart beat faster. Damn, why did he have to look so good?

"We can do that if you'd prefer. I don't know about you, though, but I'm starving."

As if on cue, my stomach started to growl. I racked my brain for a viable excuse to get out of my fate, but nothing came to mind. With a shrug, I gave up.

"Sure. Why not?"

He chuckled, even though, once again my words were coming out harsher than I'd wanted them to.

"That's a ringing endorsement if I've ever heard one. You still a fan of that Indian place on Twelfth Street, Travis?"

Mr. Baxter seemed quite good at shocking me, and this time I let him know it.

"I can't believe you remember. I told you that was my favorite place my junior year."

"What can I say? Things about you seem to stick in my mind. So, shall we then?"

I took a quick look down at my outfit and stopped in my tracks. "If you don't mind, I'd like to change my clothes first."

* * * *

I couldn't stop fidgeting with my napkin. Or my water glass. Or the silverware next to my ornately designed plate. It was a simple dinner, nothing more, but for some reason, I was nervous as hell. Mr. Baxter sat across from me, looking the picture of calm. We sat in awkward silence, listening to the music coming through the tinny speakers above our head. I tried to think of something to talk about, something that wouldn't steer us directly to my job or my stalled college career. While I was tapping my fingers against the fabric tablecloth, Mr. Baxter smiled at me.

"So, Travis, thanks for agreeing to have dinner with me."

"No problem."

I winced at my inability to come up with anything more than that. My hands were balled into fists, and I looked around the restaurant in an effort to find something to focus on.

"You don't have to be nervous, you know. This isn't really a big deal. I thought it would be nice to catch up."

I met his eyes, the green so striking it made me look away.

"Who says I'm nervous?"

As I said it, I moved my arm quicker than I meant to and sent my water flying all over the table. And onto Mr. Baxter's shirt.

"Oh, God. I'm so sorry. I can't believe I did that."

I reached across the table with my napkin, but that only caused more damage, sending the Palak soup he'd ordered right into his lap.

"Jesus, I'm so sorry, Mr. Baxter. Are you okay?"

I expected him to freak out or at least be a little mad, but his smile threw me off. He mopped up as much of the soup as he could with his napkin and mine.

"I'm fine, Travis. Don't worry. I'm going to hit the men's room. I'll be right back. If the waiter comes by, could you ask him for some new napkins?"

He was so nonchalant, which made me more scared than if he'd been screaming at me. I watched him walk away, with a huge stain on his pants and wet marks on his shirt. After he disappeared from view, I put my head in my hands. Clayton's words about things getting worse turned over in my head. I think this officially qualified as worse than my overalls. After a few moments of feeling sorry for myself, I fished out my wallet and threw some money on the table, then got up without another thought.

I had to get out of there, even though I had no idea how I would get back to Downy's to pick up my car. I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket, thinking of calling Clayton when I ran right into Mr. Baxter.

"Going somewhere?"

I put my phone away and shrugged.

"Um, I thought, you know, under the circumstances that maybe we should, you know, do this another time. Or you know, not at all."

He smiled and I was starting to get really confused.

"I'm not mad. It was an accident. It happens."

I rolled my eyes and tried to get through to him.

"Not like this. I mean, this is epically bad. Look at your pants. It looks like, I mean, I don't even know what it looks like."

"I wouldn't say it's epically bad. Maybe just really bad."

He laughed at his own joke, but I couldn't bring myself to join him.

"I'll pay for the dry cleaning, or whatever. Or I can buy you a new pair of pants."

He put a hand on my shoulder and laughed again. I couldn't believe he was being so nice about it. If the roles had been reversed, I don't think I would have taken it so well.

"Let's go sit down and have a nice dinner. We can talk about you paying me back later."

Reluctantly, I walked back to the table and sat, noticing a new glass of water by my plate. I edged it away from me and tried to stop my hands from shaking.

"I'm really sorry, Mr. Baxter. I'm so embarrassed. Are you sure you still want to have dinner? I wouldn't blame you if you didn't."

"Don't be sorry. And it's Andrew, remember?"

"Right."

Our food came at that moment and it smelled delicious. I hadn't been to the restaurant in years, but the aroma took me back to the last time. Another disastrous evening, but for a completely different reason. My parents had one of their famous fights here, and I hadn't returned since. Andrew picked up his fork and started eating, but I was still feeling paralyzed. I pushed the food around the plate a bit and wished for a time machine to get me back to this afternoon. Maybe then the kid replacing me could have showed up on time and I would have been gone when Andrew showed up. Then, none of this would have happened. I could feel Andrew's eyes on me, but it was beyond me to meet them. Until he spoke and left me no choice.