Page 96 of Captivating Anika

The young kid dives into the back of the truck and pulls out a shallow box holding a selection of fruits. I notice he has some apricots as well.

“I have three pints left.”

“I’ll take all three, and can I have a basket of apricots as well?”

I settle up and set my purchases on the passenger seat when my phone chimes with an incoming message.

Idiot neighbor is having a party. No room to park.

Try the play area and meet us at the point.

I grin, Monique has a love/hate relationship with her neighbor. Today hate appears to be the leading emotion.

The play area she refers to has parking, restrooms, and is a beautiful spot along the river, right next to the railroad tracks. It’s also a trailhead for bike and hiking trails. It should be a short walk to the point from there.

The Animas River meanders through Durango and Oxbow Park juts out in a curve of the river. The point is the very tip from where you can see the river to the north and to the south on either side of you. It’s like sitting on a little island in the middle of the water.

On the weekends, the parking lot at the play area can get busy, but not at this time of night. There are only two other cars parked there, both with bicycle racks. Those folks are probably riding their bikes along the trails, maybe taking in the sunset as well.

Speaking of, I should hustle or I may miss it, the sun is already sinking fast. I leave two containers of strawberries and a few apricots in the truck and take the bag with the rest along.

It’s a beautiful night, clear skies and warm enough a sweater is all you need. The rush of the fast-streaming river drowns out what few street sounds you might hear out here, making it feel like you’re somewhere out in the wilderness instead of the middle of town.

I’ve missed this. I’ve been working so hard to get my condition under control while building security for my future, I’ve stopped taking time to do the things that feed my soul. All work and no play makes for a drab existence.

I’m glad for my sweater, it’s a little chilly here in the shade of the tree canopy over the trail. I’m getting close to the point though; the roar of the rapids is getting louder.

A sharp crack sounds behind me, but before I can turn, my head is yanked back by the hair, and the cold steel of a gun barrel pressed up under my chin.

“Shut up, and walk.”

Hog

The Irish is busy.

When I walk in, I’m greeted by a few firefighters I know from Station 1 sitting at the bar.

“Heard a ceiling got the best of you,” the guy nicknamed Sparky says.

“Don’t know about that, I’m still standing.”

“Yeah, but it gets hard on the old body, doesn’t it?”

“Who are you calling old?” I fire back, playing along with this fraternal ribbing. “Aren’t you up for mandatory retirement yet?”

“Fuck you, Hog.” He grins, shaking his head.

“Not today, Sparky. Already made plans.”

I clap his shoulder and make my way over to a booth near the bathrooms the chief looks to have claimed.

“Evening, Chief,” I greet him when I slide in across from him.

“Hog.”

No sooner has my ass hit the seat when one of the waitresses stops by the booth.

“Can I get you a drink?”

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