Page 35 of Hot Mess Express
“Anthony.” I turn to him, confused. Trey shrugs. “Just in case you thought you might take an evening stroll, since Cody and Pete are off doing their thing, and maybe my company is a bit boring.”
“Why would I—?”
“Anthony had his moments recently, moments of turning himself around. We’ve talked a lot. Like,a lot. I kinda became his parents’ unofficial therapist, too, helping them with their marital issues. But Anthony, he’s a bit of a … one-step-forward, two-steps-back kinda guy. He has no anchor in his life.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“You always make up the couch so perfectly every morning before you go for your jog. I noticed.” Trey chuckles. “Must be that military discipline in you, huh?”
I’m still distracted by his volunteering all that info regarding Anthony. “I just like to … respect your space. Leave things better than how I found them. It’s what a guest should do.”
“You’re a great guy, Bridger. I wonder if you’ll leave this town better than how you found it, whenever you go.” He smilesat the flowers, and I wonder for a moment if he’s thinking of his mother. Then he reaches out and gently touches one of them, a red one in the front. “To be honest, I kinda hope you guys stay longer.”
“I would hate to overstay our welcome.”
“Nonsense. You’re welcome here as long as you guys want. Stay for a month if you like. Stay for two.” He pulls back his hand and hugs his knees, crouched next to me. “I think he might be all by himself up there, assuming choir’s finished up their Tuesday night rehearsals by now.”
Is he talking about Anthony again?“You want me to go and see him or something? Is that it? So he can try to choke me again?”
“Ah, I suspected it wasn’t such an accident as you made it out to be.” I freeze.Did Trey just catch me in a trap?“Anyway, I think I’m gonna head inside and read a book. My dad got me into this series he used to read about a princess, a cute sorcerer’s apprentice, and a marble dragon …won’t bore you with the details… but I will say, isn’t it mighty convenient how close we live to the church? Barely a stroll down the street.”
With a smile, Trey gives me a pat on the shoulder, then slowly saunters up the walkway back to the house. I remain there awhile longer, crouching in front of the flowers, eyes on the cross.
Fucking hell, if I’m not the hungry fish, and Anthony, the bait squirming tastily on a sharp, painful hook.
Just as I approach the church, the doors open, and out walk two men, one of them I recognize as Jeremiah from just last night. “Evenin’, Bridger,” he greets me, then nudges the other guy. “Hey, remember the friend-of-a-friend-of-Trey’s-husband I mentioned? This is him. Bridger, this is Robby, also sings in thechoir. Probably heard him Sunday morning.” I give the men a nod, surprised—and totally not surprised—that I was enough of a subject of interest to have been talked about. “Did you come by to listen to us rehearse? Sorry we just finished up, last to leave.”
“Well,” mutters Robby, glancing back over his shoulder. “Not quite the last to leave.”
I glance past them toward the church, its front doors left open like an unspoken invitation with its soft, dim light spilling out.
Jeremiah nods at me. “You wanna join us? We’re meeting with some others at Pepperoni Pirate, our post-rehearsal Tuesday night thing.Thisone’s not-so-secret girlfriend Nessie will be there, too.”
“I’m gonna marry her,” says Robby, full of determination as he stares off, like he can see their wedding day. “No matter what anyone says or does to stop it.”
“He’s talking about Nessie’s parents.” Jeremiah covers Robby’s ears. “Theydon’tapprove.” Robby swats the hands away, scowling.
I give the men a nod of appreciation. “Thanks, but I think I’ll have to join you another night, if that’s alright, gentlemen.”
“We’ll be at Tumbleweeds tomorrow, or Thursday if Robinson cancels rehearsal again. See you there if you’re up for it. Enjoy the rest of your night, Bridger.” Then the two set off down the road, Robby going on about something his girlfriend’s mother said the other day as Jeremiah nods and nods, listening.
Five seconds later, their problems couldn’t be further from my mind. I head up the path to the doors of the church, then step inside. Dim light spills from the annex full of tables, the lobby and main chapel dark. I gently close the door behind me and approach the archway leading into the annex, where I stop.
In the center of the annex among the sea of fold-out tables is a ladder. Barely over halfway up that ladder is Anthony, wearinga pair of low-hanging jeans with the top of his underwear showing, the bottom of his jeans bunched up at the ankles by his brown leather boots. He’s also in another ill-fitting white tank top that doesn’t quite reach his waist, reminding me of how he looked the first time I saw him, minus Duncan’s vest. His movements are slow as he tiredly inspects a burned-out fluorescent light, twisting it one way, then the other, grunting groggily to himself.
He would have an easier time of it if he’d just go up one or two more steps instead of stretching to reach the light like he’s afraid of falling three feet off a ladder. Or is that it? Is he afraid of falling? He appears to be working here all by himself, to be fair.
“Jeremiah?” he mumbles sleepily over a shoulder. “That you? Still here?”
I guess I wasn’t as stealthy as I thought.
Before I say a word, he reaches out behind him. “Can you get me the screwdriver?” When I don’t answer, he turns his head only halfway, annoyed. “Please? Sorry I said you sing like a hedgehog on steroids, I dunno what that even means. It’s been a shit week. All sorts of nonsenseflyin’outta my mouth.”
After a second’s hesitation, I come into the annex. On a table next to the ladder is a messy spread of tools and screws, a long skinny box, and his phone. I pick up the screwdriver and press it into his wiggling fingers. “Thanks,” he says without looking.
I decide to speak. “Why don’t you go up a few more steps?”
Shockingly, he even mistakes my voice for Jeremiah’s. “Why? So I can fall and break my neck? Ladder’s a rickety-ass death trap! Trey or his dad needs to get one that ain’t fifty years old.”
