turn sideways to get
by the Coke-bottle-figured woman. The scent of wisteria filled his
nose as he inched by the tempting curves. His body heated at the
contact—brief though it was—despite the chilly disdain in her
gaze.
He exited the building and walked to his Audi where
he leaned on the side, hooking his ankles and crossing his arms.
The muggy night air blew over him, sending him into the interior of
his car. He pressed the ignition button and waited for the air to
cool his heated skin. Given the combination of the humid Georgia
weather and his visceral reaction to Mellie, he could use an icy
shower about now. Or some sex with her then the shower.
“She sure as hell didn’t look like that in school,”
he muttered to himself.
He would wait them out. They would need to sell. In
the meantime, he could begin with some of the other properties he
now owned. As he sat there, he watched Dr. Glazer—the elder—make
his way out to his waiting truck. Now, Toby could see the
exhaustion much clearer. Dr. Glazer looked…well, old .
His past interactions with the Glazers hadn’t been
all that much. He’d been prohibited from having any pet so he’d
never gone there.
Still, he did remember growing up here. The
difference was he had grown up with the times yet, from the looks
of things, Cottonwood Falls hadn’t stayed up with progression.
Towns all around were growing, and Cottonwood Falls, in his
opinion, would do well to get in on the ground floor of the
expansions he was proposing.
Putting his car in gear, Toby backed out of his spot
and drove away. He went through town, noticing the other changes.
It wasn’t a one-light town. It wasn’t less than a hundred people;
there were a good fifteen hundred there. But, for a man who’d spent
the past twelve years in New York City, this was Podunk.
It had grown a bit, but he saw people helping one
another, smiling, and waving. Okay, so that doesn’t happen so
often in the city I make my home in.
Toby pulled into one of the few gas stations in
town. He parked and climbed out, needing a few bottles of Coke. He
strode to the building, loosening his tie along the way. Drawing
open the door, he gazed around at the narrow aisles, the drink
machines on the far wall, and the coolers in the back.
“Well, well. If it ain’t Toby Latner. Back from the
big city with all his fancy duds.”
The male voice tinged by laughter had him turning to
his right and finding three buddies from high school, all on the
basketball team with him.
He grinned. “Bobby Jenkins, Stuart Copeland, and
Randy Tourno. How the hell are you three?”
Bobby laughed and, removing his hat, raked his
fingers through dark locks. “Around here, we say ‘y’all’, not ‘you
three’ like any uppity pretentious Yankee.”
The men exchanged hugs before stepping out of the
way of the door. “Don’t insult me, Bobby. I’m Southern through to
my roots.”
They guffawed. “Sure, you are,” Stuart said. “Is
that why you’ve been here a week and haven’t even looked up the
rest of The A-Team?”
Toby had forgotten that’s what they went by in
school. “I’m sorry, guys. I was wrapped up in work. I would have
looked you up.”
“Sure, sure.” Randy’s remarks were spoken without
heat or rancor. “Come on out for a drink. Catch up.”
The trio followed him to grab the four bottles of
Coke he wanted. “Tonight?”
“We stay up past dark here; we don’t have to go in
just ‘cause the sun goes out. You see, we’s gots electricity down
here.”
He laughed. “Shut up, Stu.” He placed the drinks on
the counter. “Nothing more.” Toby put down a ten and waited for
change and the bagged items.
“Night, y’all,” the young cashier said.
“Night, Josie,” the trio said as one. Toby merely
nodded in thanks and trailed them outside.
“Whooee, this your fancy ride?” Stu asked, shooting
a stream of tobacco juice to the asphalt, hitting the faded yellow
line.
“Yes,” he replied,
by the Coke-bottle-figured woman. The scent of wisteria filled his
nose as he inched by the tempting curves. His body heated at the
contact—brief though it was—despite the chilly disdain in her
gaze.
He exited the building and walked to his Audi where
he leaned on the side, hooking his ankles and crossing his arms.
The muggy night air blew over him, sending him into the interior of
his car. He pressed the ignition button and waited for the air to
cool his heated skin. Given the combination of the humid Georgia
weather and his visceral reaction to Mellie, he could use an icy
shower about now. Or some sex with her then the shower.
“She sure as hell didn’t look like that in school,”
he muttered to himself.
He would wait them out. They would need to sell. In
the meantime, he could begin with some of the other properties he
now owned. As he sat there, he watched Dr. Glazer—the elder—make
his way out to his waiting truck. Now, Toby could see the
exhaustion much clearer. Dr. Glazer looked…well, old .
His past interactions with the Glazers hadn’t been
all that much. He’d been prohibited from having any pet so he’d
never gone there.
Still, he did remember growing up here. The
difference was he had grown up with the times yet, from the looks
of things, Cottonwood Falls hadn’t stayed up with progression.
Towns all around were growing, and Cottonwood Falls, in his
opinion, would do well to get in on the ground floor of the
expansions he was proposing.
Putting his car in gear, Toby backed out of his spot
and drove away. He went through town, noticing the other changes.
It wasn’t a one-light town. It wasn’t less than a hundred people;
there were a good fifteen hundred there. But, for a man who’d spent
the past twelve years in New York City, this was Podunk.
It had grown a bit, but he saw people helping one
another, smiling, and waving. Okay, so that doesn’t happen so
often in the city I make my home in.
Toby pulled into one of the few gas stations in
town. He parked and climbed out, needing a few bottles of Coke. He
strode to the building, loosening his tie along the way. Drawing
open the door, he gazed around at the narrow aisles, the drink
machines on the far wall, and the coolers in the back.
“Well, well. If it ain’t Toby Latner. Back from the
big city with all his fancy duds.”
The male voice tinged by laughter had him turning to
his right and finding three buddies from high school, all on the
basketball team with him.
He grinned. “Bobby Jenkins, Stuart Copeland, and
Randy Tourno. How the hell are you three?”
Bobby laughed and, removing his hat, raked his
fingers through dark locks. “Around here, we say ‘y’all’, not ‘you
three’ like any uppity pretentious Yankee.”
The men exchanged hugs before stepping out of the
way of the door. “Don’t insult me, Bobby. I’m Southern through to
my roots.”
They guffawed. “Sure, you are,” Stuart said. “Is
that why you’ve been here a week and haven’t even looked up the
rest of The A-Team?”
Toby had forgotten that’s what they went by in
school. “I’m sorry, guys. I was wrapped up in work. I would have
looked you up.”
“Sure, sure.” Randy’s remarks were spoken without
heat or rancor. “Come on out for a drink. Catch up.”
The trio followed him to grab the four bottles of
Coke he wanted. “Tonight?”
“We stay up past dark here; we don’t have to go in
just ‘cause the sun goes out. You see, we’s gots electricity down
here.”
He laughed. “Shut up, Stu.” He placed the drinks on
the counter. “Nothing more.” Toby put down a ten and waited for
change and the bagged items.
“Night, y’all,” the young cashier said.
“Night, Josie,” the trio said as one. Toby merely
nodded in thanks and trailed them outside.
“Whooee, this your fancy ride?” Stu asked, shooting
a stream of tobacco juice to the asphalt, hitting the faded yellow
line.
“Yes,” he replied,
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