Page 4 of A Much Younger Man
I saw Beck’s friend leave the liquor store across from the cantina. He made his way toward us with a bottle wrapped in a bag. I wondered if Beck was even old enough to legally drink.
“Hey,” he called in greeting. “Gotta get my boy some food. What’s good here? Gotta be cheap.”
Cooper opened the door to the cantina for him. “I recommend the carnitas tacos. They’re three for five dollars tonight.”
“Awesome. Thanks.” We left him at the hostess station and made our way inside to get a drink.
Behind the bar, Jim, the cantina’s owner, schmoozed with the denizens of St. Nacho’s he knew and liked while another bartender did the real work. Cooper was a great favorite of Jim’s. As soon as he saw us, he retrieved Cooper’s violin case from behind the bar and handed it over.
“What put that big smile on your face?” he asked.
“There’s a kid out there playing the fucking strings off his guitar.” Cooper carefully put his instrument away. “Amazing fingers.”
“That good, huh?” Jim’s expression was fond. “Did you adopt him yet?”
“Ha, ha.” Usually it was Jim doing the adopting. If the stories were true, he’d adopted Cooper.
“Looks like he’s living rough,” I said. “So maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”
“That’s a rite of passage all up and down the coast,” Jim said. “Kids hit the road with a guitar and a big dream. It’s a rock and roll cliché for a reason.”
“Hope it’s just a summer thing.” Cooper accepted his usual soda from Jim. I asked for whiskey.
“It’s hard to see how he can care for that Lab properly.” I took my drink and lifted it in thanks. “I need to make sure she’s okay.”
“You’re such a softie.” Cooper nudged me. “She looked healthy, didn’t she?”
“The dog looked fine, but who drags an animal around without thinking about food or predatory insects or the fact that in the summer, the heat from the asphalt will blister her paws? People are free to put themselves through whatever adventure they want, but as far as I’m concerned, pets deserve better.”
Cooper patted my arm. “C’mon, Lindy. Beck didn’t look stupid. He’ll probably come to the clinic, then you can make sure the dog’s okay.”
“I hope so.” I wanted to help both of them and not just because I was a vet. There was something about Beck. It was that slow blink—that trust—as if he’d placed himself into my hands because he needed me. I couldn’t get the image of him out of my mind.
Later, I saw Beck’s friend carry his bottle and bag of food back to the boardwalk.
If I could have confined my compassion to the dog, I might have slept better that first night.
It was my heart that kept dragging me back from sleep, though. Emotions I’d never experienced before gave me dreams I didn’t want.
I fell in love on Taco Tuesday in St. Nacho’s.
Because itwasSt. Nacho’s,the only person surprised by that fact was me.
