Page 13 of Jackson
I pointed to a beach shack. A wooden hut with a shutter that was propped open at the front. Two sides were covered in my art, it was the first thing I’d done when I’d arrived. On the sand were tables and chairs and large cushions to siton.
“Jackson, my man. Introduce me,” Alfie said as weapproached.
“Alfie, meet Summer. Summer, Alfie tells me he was the best at, and I quote, ‘No one can make a jambalaya like a native from New Orleans.’ And, boy, is he right,” Isaid.
There was no menu, Alfie served one dish a day, and it was usually whatever he had to hand, or what he fancied himself, but it was always amazing. He used a ladle to scoop the food into bowls, gave us a couple of plastic spoons, and retrieved two cold beers from the fridge. I fished in my jeans for some dollars but he waved hishand.
“On the house, I’ve had more customers than ever since this boy drew all over myshack.”
“I’d hope you see it as more than just a drawing, but thanks,” Ireplied.
I liked Alfie; he was Dexter’s partner in crime, as we called him. I think there was a little more to their friendship but it was something never spoken about. They were both the same age, mid-sixties I guessed, and I loved his company. We would sit on the beach at night and he’d tell me all about his life prior to Cali. Visiting his family in New Orleans was on my ‘to-dolist.’
Balancing my bowl and bottle in one hand, I held Summer’s as she kicked off her shoes, then lowered to one of the oversized cushions. She sat cross-legged and smiled up at me. I dropped down on the sand beside her and then pulled my t-shirt over my head to catch somesun.
“You still have paint all over you,” shesaid.
“Checking meout?”
“I,erm…”
“I’m kidding. I know, it’s a bitch to getoff.”
For years we’d flirted in fun and she’d always been able to come back with something to put me in my place. That time, she concentrated on getting the spoon of food into her mouth, as if she needed the distraction. It saddened me a little. I recalled her words, if our friendship was damaged by that fucking kiss, I’d be as devastated asher.
I took a sip from my bottle of beer. I saw her glance from the corner of her eye once or twice. I pulled my t-shirt backon.
“Jackson!” I heard and winced at the screech of Honey’s—although I doubted that was her real name—voice.
I sighed as she walked over; she was all tits and arse in the skimpiest bikini. I’d fucked her a few times; she frequented the bar, but I had no desire to have a friendship, let alone a relationship with her. Did that make me a jerk?Probably.
‘Honey,” I said without asmile.
She stood with her perfect model pose, twiddling her hair in the fingers of one hand. She was a society girl, originally from New York, and totally fuckedup.
“When is the bar opening? I’ve missed you,” she said with a purr, which made her sound more like a child than the seductive temptress I believed she thought shewas.
“Couple ofdays.”
I kept my answer deliberately short and curt. I didn’t want to get into a conversation with her. I looked at Summer, who stared back at me with a smirk on her face. An awkward silence ensued. Honey looked between Summer andme.
“Okay, you let me know when that bar’s open, won’t you?” she said before turning and walkingaway.
“Honey?” Summersaid.
“Don’t go there. A mistake,okay?”
Summer chuckled as she finished her lunch. She placed her bowl on the sand beside her and lay back, stretching out her legs beside me. As her feet brushed against mine, I felt that spark jump betweenus.
“That was delicious,” she said, as she turned her head towardsme.
I stretched out beside her. “Simple food suits my simple mind,” Isaid.
“There’s nothing simple about you, Jack. You’re about the most complicated man I’ve everknown.”
“What makes you saythat?”
“There’s no body language with you. You have a closed-off look sometimes, and it’s hard to read you. That’s some suit of armour you wear,” she said, as she rolled to her back and closed hereyes.
