Read Online Port Starbird (Storm Ketchum Adventures) by Garrett Dennis - Free Book Online
Authors: Garrett Dennis
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hand. Ketch adjusted his cap, mounted the bike, and allowed himself a deep breath before he started pedaling again. He'd noticed he was finally starting to seriously tire in there; he felt a bit spryer now, but it was probably temporary. Maybe he'd have time for a power nap later if he hustled.
He headed back down Route 12. He'd intended to pick up something to go along with the fish at the Village Market, the town's homier alternative to the Food Lion supermarket at the south end, but he decided to quickly try his luck at the Barefoot Station first. It was closer, being located right at the Harbor Road turnoff, and if they didn't have anything suitable on the shelves they might sell him some lunch counter leftovers.
The Barefoot Station was yet another of Ketch's favorite places. It was no coincidence that both his house and most of the places he favored were on the north end of town - he'd already gotten the lay of the land during his periodic vacations before the move, and he'd only house-hunted here at the north end.
At first glance the Station looked like just another convenience store with gas pumps out front, but it harbored a few surprises inside that weren't obvious from the road. There was a breakfast and lunch counter in one corner, a room in the back where friends could drink some beer and shoot some pool, and via a side door inside the store the rest of the building housed a theater, with a stage and screen and at least a hundred seats it seemed to him, where old and second-run movies were shown periodically and an occasional inexpensive concert or show with regional performers was presented. He'd attended a memorable one not too long ago featuring an older country musician who called himself 'Gene the Plumber' - because his name was Gene and he was a plumber, he'd explained - whose daughter also sang and who'd sounded like Norah Jones.
He got lucky and came out in short order with a container of pasta salad, a bag of tossed garden salad, and a box of chocolate chip cookies, all of which he managed to pack into the saddlebags. He sprinkled some ice he'd also bought over the contents of the saddlebags before closing them. Once again these good people hadn't let him down. There were a lot of good people in this town, he reflected; in fact, at the moment he could think of only one truly bad one that he'd personally met in recent memory.
He supposed he'd have to start buckling down soon regarding that one - but not tonight, there'd be time enough to think about that tomorrow. He'd been beaten up enough for one day.
~ ~ ~
5. A man shouldn't be alone in his old age if it can be avoided.
Ketch had his second wind now. He had one of those small refrigerators that are popular on college campuses, and he'd moved it out to the front deck and stocked it as full of beer and wine as possible (but not the wine, which he'd stashed in the back of the kitchen fridge), along with a couple of sodas and water bottles in case it turned out anyone wanted those instead. There was more of everything in the kitchen if needed. The white plastic chairs and tables scattered around the decks were wiped down, and the dog had been fed.
Four tiki torches were in place out front, one each at either side of the steps and each corner of the front deck; they'd have those and the screened side decks if the bugs got bad later. That was one drawback of living on the sound, but it was manageable; and that and not being closer to the beach at least helped keep the prices around here down some.
He'd managed a shave and shower and a catnap in the hammock as well, and now he and the dog were relaxing on the front deck waiting for their guests to arrive, he in a fresh Hawaiian shirt and shorts, and the dog in one of his snazzier bandanas. Reggae music emanated at an inoffensive level from the satellite radio in the corner.
The sun wouldn't set until later at this time of year, but this was still a pleasant time of day for him
He headed back down Route 12. He'd intended to pick up something to go along with the fish at the Village Market, the town's homier alternative to the Food Lion supermarket at the south end, but he decided to quickly try his luck at the Barefoot Station first. It was closer, being located right at the Harbor Road turnoff, and if they didn't have anything suitable on the shelves they might sell him some lunch counter leftovers.
The Barefoot Station was yet another of Ketch's favorite places. It was no coincidence that both his house and most of the places he favored were on the north end of town - he'd already gotten the lay of the land during his periodic vacations before the move, and he'd only house-hunted here at the north end.
At first glance the Station looked like just another convenience store with gas pumps out front, but it harbored a few surprises inside that weren't obvious from the road. There was a breakfast and lunch counter in one corner, a room in the back where friends could drink some beer and shoot some pool, and via a side door inside the store the rest of the building housed a theater, with a stage and screen and at least a hundred seats it seemed to him, where old and second-run movies were shown periodically and an occasional inexpensive concert or show with regional performers was presented. He'd attended a memorable one not too long ago featuring an older country musician who called himself 'Gene the Plumber' - because his name was Gene and he was a plumber, he'd explained - whose daughter also sang and who'd sounded like Norah Jones.
He got lucky and came out in short order with a container of pasta salad, a bag of tossed garden salad, and a box of chocolate chip cookies, all of which he managed to pack into the saddlebags. He sprinkled some ice he'd also bought over the contents of the saddlebags before closing them. Once again these good people hadn't let him down. There were a lot of good people in this town, he reflected; in fact, at the moment he could think of only one truly bad one that he'd personally met in recent memory.
He supposed he'd have to start buckling down soon regarding that one - but not tonight, there'd be time enough to think about that tomorrow. He'd been beaten up enough for one day.
~ ~ ~
5. A man shouldn't be alone in his old age if it can be avoided.
Ketch had his second wind now. He had one of those small refrigerators that are popular on college campuses, and he'd moved it out to the front deck and stocked it as full of beer and wine as possible (but not the wine, which he'd stashed in the back of the kitchen fridge), along with a couple of sodas and water bottles in case it turned out anyone wanted those instead. There was more of everything in the kitchen if needed. The white plastic chairs and tables scattered around the decks were wiped down, and the dog had been fed.
Four tiki torches were in place out front, one each at either side of the steps and each corner of the front deck; they'd have those and the screened side decks if the bugs got bad later. That was one drawback of living on the sound, but it was manageable; and that and not being closer to the beach at least helped keep the prices around here down some.
He'd managed a shave and shower and a catnap in the hammock as well, and now he and the dog were relaxing on the front deck waiting for their guests to arrive, he in a fresh Hawaiian shirt and shorts, and the dog in one of his snazzier bandanas. Reggae music emanated at an inoffensive level from the satellite radio in the corner.
The sun wouldn't set until later at this time of year, but this was still a pleasant time of day for him
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