Once Upon a Road Trip (45 page)

Relieved when no one looked their way, Angie drifted around a circular rack of T-shirts to a set of laminated flip posters. She leafed through for a short while before pausing at a section titled “Celtic.”

“You’re serious?” Vince had stood silently behind her for a time, but now sounded edgy. “Your parents aren’t going to freak out when you come back inked?” 

“I’m eighteen—they won’t be thrilled, but it’s my call now.” Angie murmured in answer, tilting her head as she examined a trinity knot design. She absently traced a finger along the intricate pattern. “Relax, I’m not ready to commit just yet. I need more time to think about it.” She dropped her hand and looked back over her shoulder at him. With a satisfied smile, she turned and headed for the door. She waited until he’d joined her on the sidewalk before adding, “Besides, if I get a tat, it’ll be from a nice hygienic place that -doesn’t- smell like pot.”

Vince chuckled. “Noticed that, huh?”

“I’m not completely naive,” she said, turning her gaze down the street to the corner.
Just somewhat naive.
“Was Grady going to meet us?”

Vince didn’t seem as concerned about making his friend wait. “Yeah. He’ll have a table saved.” He motioned down the street and started walking.

Angie fell in step beside him as she took in the night life — such as it was on a Monday. College students made up the majority of the area’s population, coming and going from various bars, clubs, and coffee shops. A small knot of people gathered at one of the five main intersection points beside a neglected fountain. There, a lone young man gave a break-dancing demonstration on a splayed piece of cardboard.

Distracted by the spectacle for a few moments, Angie’s left foot slipped from the curb and she stumbled a step into the street. She caught the glow of headlights in her left peripheral vision, and then suddenly felt her body jerk back to the right.

Vince grunted as he caught her hand, and in one quick, controlled motion he pulled her around to the other side of him. She caught his wiry shoulder with her free hand to steady herself, surprised by both his strength and the sharpness of his reflexes. Righting herself as the car passed, she decided the error wouldn’t have been enough to put her in the vehicle’s path. About to work up annoyance over the unnecessary assistance, she caught the tense expression on Vince’s face as he looked her over.

“You okay?”

Angie released his shoulder to touch her neck, feeling a twinge but not wanting to admit weakness. “Yeah.” She knew his concern was genuine, if not on the hyper-vigilant side. He was still clutching her hand, though his grip slackened. “Sorry,” she said, embarrassment catching up to her.

“How about you stay over here?” Vince stressed in a tone that held more calm than his expression. “I think you’ve had enough life-threatening excitement for today.” He gave her hand a light squeeze, continuing to the crosswalk without releasing his hold.

Angie became immediately preoccupied with the public display of affection his would-be rescue had developed into. At first she felt childish. The idea of being some sort of damsel in distress was a reviling concept to her. And yet, she appreciated Vince’s protective response. Perhaps it was simply what she should expect from the instincts of a firefighter. Or, maybe it was a convenient excuse for physical contact. Either way, there was undeniable warmth about his proximity that Angie was having trouble ignoring.

As they reached the front entrance to The Mill, Vince veered to the right, passing through the mouth of the waist-high iron fence that surrounded the outdoor seating. They found Grady lounging at a round table near the side door, and he waved them over.

“Hey guys!” Grady greeted with an affable smile, rising as they approached. He pulled out a chair and motioned for Angie to take it before he sank back down. “I didn’t order yet. And, sorry, but I guess they don’t bring in bands on Monday nights.” He nudged the extra menus across the table and glanced between them, his gaze pausing on their clasped hands.

Just as Angie was beginning to feel self-conscious, Vince released her to her chair and grabbed a menu. “Thanks, G.”

“So, what do you think of Birmingham?” Grady asked. His attention settled on Angie with affable expectation.

Angie held her finger on an artichoke dip appetizer she decided was reasonably priced, and she glanced up. “It’s…different than I was expecting. I guess I hadn’t gotten a very accurate feel for the South from what I’ve seen on TV.”

That got a laugh out of Grady. “Well, it’s hard to blame you. It seems like every time there’s a tornado or something else worth reporting in this state, they go out and interview the biggest redneck they can find.”

Angie smirked. “I’m trying to give it a blank slate in my mind. It deserves that much.”   

“Did you have any -good- impressions of the South before you came down here?” Grady asked.

“Krispy Kreme?” Angie laughed as the first thing that came to mind spilled out of her mouth. “—and Steel Magnolias,” she added, in an attempt to redeem herself.

Vince flashed a grin. “I think you got the highlights right.”

“So, how unbearably tedious was your day?” Grady inquired, his dark gaze darting to Vince as if to monitor for a reaction to the thinly-veiled taunt.

“Oh, it was anything but tedious.” Angie glanced aside at Vince and caught him wincing behind his menu. “The Rehab office was really interesting. And class was—” She trailed off, at a loss for an appropriate adjective.

“Some idiot attacked her,” Vince all but growled, dropping his menu flat onto the table in front of him.

Angie was surprised by the anger in his tone. She studied him in silence as he relayed the incident to his friend, gesturing sharply all the while. He’d maintained such calm through the ordeal, she thought he must have waited to fully process it. She took some comfort in the fact that she wasn’t the only one who found the incident a little crazy.

  “Whoa.” Grady’s response came hushed as he peered at Angie for a long moment. “Are you okay?”

Angie squirmed against the cold metal of the patio chair, feeling the focus of both young men on her. Before she could stop herself, she’d lifted a hand to cup the sore side of her neck. “I’m fine, really. No permanent damage.” She waved off the attention and pretended to continue scanning the menu, hoping they would change the subject.

“You can tell how she really is by her eyes—they change color.” Vince mentioned to Grady, with what Angie thought might be a hint of satisfaction over the privileged information. She glanced at him questioningly before her gaze slid to Grady to weigh his reaction.

“Yeah, my sister’s do that,” Grady said without skipping a beat. His eyes locked onto hers and he leaned forward in assessment. “They’re brown now. She’s happy,” he added with a confident nod.

“Content.” Angie corrected him without thinking. She glanced from Grady to Vince and then down at her menu again. She thought Vince looked somewhat perturbed with his friend’s casual insight, but then decided she could be imagining it. Examining her snap response, she began to wonder if being content was as close to happy as she’d ever been — or could hope to be. Their waitress’s arrival cut short her dreary introspection.

The evening went on with another hour of bantering between the three. Vince’s levity returned as he took playful jabs at his friend, seemingly at every opportunity. Grady took it in stride, to such an extent that Angie began to conclude he had difficulty asserting himself. In the end she was the first to succumb to drowsiness, in spite of three refills on the sweet tea. Noting she’d begun to droop, the other two agreed it was time to part ways and begin the hour-long drive back to Cropwell. Angie didn’t argue.

Walking back to the car, she monitored Vince out of the corner of her eye. At one point he seemed to reach for her hand, but stopped himself. He did, however, manage to usher her along while dutifully keeping himself between her and the street for the entire trek. When she began an unconscious drift toward the curb, he nudged her back into a straighter trajectory with his shoulder.

“I could swear you have some sort of a magnetic pull toward the most obvious source of danger,” he joked, which earned him another puckish attempt by her at stomping on his foot. He dodged with skillful anticipation and an amused grin.

“My mom always said I like to keep my guardian angels on their toes,” Angie said. She struggled to dampen her awareness of every fleeting instance his arm brushed against hers.

“Angels?” Vince probed, stressing the plural.

“Right. Obviously, I’m the kind of person who needs more than one of them.” Angie laughed, meeting his intent gaze with a sidelong glance. She held his stare a moment longer than she’d intended before forcing her attention back to the sidewalk ahead.

“Maybe angels just aren’t as good at looking after their own as they are the rest of us,” Vince said, his voice a muted murmur.

If he’d meant for her to take him seriously, Angie didn’t dare entertain it. She cut her eyes to him, shifting her weight to the side enough to deliver a teasing jab with her elbow. “That’s a great line. How long have you been waiting to try that one out?”

Vince emitted a soft snicker, but didn’t answer.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

They arrived at Vince’s house after 10pm. He had insisted Angie lay her seat back so she could rest during the hour-long return drive, which took the edge off of her weariness, but not enough to give her confidence in her condition. Her neck still bothered her, and there was no telling how it would feel the next morning. She decided to play it safe. While Vince took a shower, she set about calling her contacts and delaying her departure an extra day.

While her hosts in Atlanta didn’t seem to mind the change, Scott had sounded annoyed. Considering it was the first time she’d spoken to him in several weeks, Angie was disappointed by his lack of consideration. When she suggested she could drive straight home and spare him the inconvenience, Scott became apologetic. Ultimately, they agreed she would arrive 24 hours later than originally planned.

Finding herself with leftover time as she waited for Vince to reemerge, Angie succumbed to snooping around the upstairs of his house. She told herself that as long as she didn’t open any doors or drawers, it could only be considered browsing. That left her with the pictures on the walls and various mementos. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular, just a better sense of understanding. It seemed like the safest way of gaining more insight into her friend’s life without displaying a misleading degree of interest.

Despite his current build, Vince had been a chubby baby. The year-by-year progression of his development lined the hallways from within mismatched, wooden frames. She laughed to herself when she came across a picture of him at the age of four, kneeling in front of a rodeo-themed backdrop while dressed in jeans, western boots, and a cowboy hat. The next few showed him masked in freckles, wearing various baseball uniforms along with a proud smile. At what she guessed to be between the ages of ten and twelve, he’d worn braces. It was at about that same age she noticed his bright, boyish smile seemed to lose its gleam of authenticity. Whether that was due to the braces, or the onset of teenage angst, she couldn’t speculate.

A small shelf along the kitchen wall held a family portrait, where a long-haired version of Vince’s mother sat on a bench, holding an infant Vince in her lap. His father perched beside them with an arm around his wife. The picture beside it was a bit older, and it took a moment of study before Angie realized its significance. It had been taken in what looked like a garden in front of an old farm house. Vince’s mother wore a summery blouse and tea-length blue skirt, cradling a bouquet of orchids in one arm as she leaned into Vince’s father. The bearded man was clad in a crisp white dress shirt and had his arm hooked around her waist. A worn wooden sign over his left shoulder read: “Justice of the Peace.” Their wedding photo.

Angie had the picture in her hands before she could stop herself. Did touching constitute snooping? If so, she’d already crossed the line. She glanced toward the bathroom door — which was still closed — and then flipped the frame over. She pried at the backing with her fingernail until it came free.

The scrawled writing on the back of the picture confirmed her suspicion. “Just Married,” along with their names, the county, and the date. Angie committed it to memory and replaced the backing before setting the picture back on the shelf. It wasn’t enough information, but it could be critical if what she suspected proved true.

Moving on to the living room, the most current picture of Vince she found was his high school graduation portrait. If not for the distinct vividness of his eyes, she might not have recognized him. In addition to sporting a scraggly attempt at a beard, his coopery hair was grown out straight, parted down the middle so it fell evenly to chin-level on either side of his slim face. His current clean-shaven look was a vast improvement, in her opinion. Hanging on the wall beside the frame were the gold, white, and blue honor cords he’d worn in the portrait. She didn’t find the evidence of his academic record to be the least bit surprising.

The bathroom door opened. Startled, Angie began to dart out of Vince’s eyeshot. She was too late.

“Like the hair?” he called out with a smirk. He’d thrown on a fresh white undershirt over his cargo pants, though for the first time since she’d arrived, he’d left his hair laying flat and free of gel. As he walked toward her he slipped his narrow-framed glasses back on.

“I can’t say I’m a fan.” Angie chuckled, looking from him to his old portrait. “I don’t see how you kept it out of your eyes.”

“I didn’t.” Vince laughed. “It used to drive my teachers crazy how I kept having to tuck it behind my ears. But I liked it for some reason. I kind of thought if it hid my eyes, it made me look more mysterious.”

“Why’d you cut it if you liked it that way?”

“I tried out for a scholarship through the Auburn University fire department,” he explained. “It was like boot camp with all of the physical testing and courses we had to run. It kept getting in my way, so I had it hacked off.” He ran his palm over his head, and his hair fluffed in response.