Incidental Contact (Those Devilish De Marco Men) (20 page)

“And you said they wouldn’t pick a woman.” From the corner of his eye, Eric saw Kevin shove his fist over the seat. Amy slammed hers on top, just as a fire truck dove into the street, pulling out of the station at the corner. “Way to go, babe.”

“Good job,” Eric added, braking lightly. He took his eyes off the road, scowling into the rear view mirror.
Babe?

When he looked back at the road, to his horror, a second truck had pulled out. The wide chrome bumper—and two men—were only feet away. He wasn’t going fast, but the fire truck’s driver hit the brakes at the stop sign. Eric flung out an arm to pin Amy to the seat, turned the wheel to his left, and tapped the brakes. The truck skidded sideways on the icy surface. Eying the side view mirror, Eric moved the wheel a bit more to the left, in the direction of the skid, still pumping the brakes.
C’mon, c’mon, slow your ass down
. 

The heavy tread on his tires should bite into the ice and the truck weighed three-quarters of a ton, but the few seconds it took for the vehicle to shudder to a stop seemed like an hour. Looking in the side view mirror while his heart kicked his ribs, he saw the outer rear tire hung over thin air. He eyed the snow-filled ditch, clenching the wheel.

There was never just one responding vehicle to a fire. Sweat stung his armpits and the back of his neck.
Stupid.

The sirens made talking impossible until the fire trucks sped away. A third truck pulled out and roared past while Eric took deep breaths.

“Damn, he never even looked left!” Kevin spluttered, shoving the wheelchair off his knees, back to the far side of the floorboard. He blew out a harsh breath. “Yeah, okay. I’m not a fan of out-of-control vehicles. Good driving, dude.”

“Do I look like a baby to you?” Amy demanded, bending Eric’s little finger until pain streaked through his hand. He pulled his gaze from the rear-view and Kevin to look at her.

You don’t look like his baby.
“Your seatbelt’s not fastened.” Eric pulled his arm away and faked a grin. “Buckle up, both of you. All the idiots will be out joy-riding. North Church Street, right? Is that where we’re heading?” He eased forward, relieved when the big tires caught in the snow churned up by the fire engines. “That’s gonna take about forty-five minutes in this mess.”

“Yeah, it’s okay, as long as I get there. It’s the county administration building on North Church. I work in the basement, next to the sheriff’s department. Damn, three fire engines is a lot. I wonder what’s on fire?”

Another few miles went by and Amy cried, “Oh, my God!” Eric nearly threw his arm across her again.

“Jesus.” He slowed to a crawl, leaning over the steering wheel to peer past Amy at the tangle of flashing lights and extended ladders. Multiple streams of water arced through the air, shooting into billows of black smoke. He spied the broken glass surrounding the front door of the old high school’s gymnasium building. Every local high school sent their shop students to this central location for vocational classes—like auto shop. “I’d have thought that building had enough asbestos in it to make it fireproof. I guess the tar roof caught fire?”

“Fuck,” Kevin muttered. “There goes our dream of a year-round training camp. Team just can’t catch a break.”

E
ric had never been through the doors of the new Krispy Kreme. Situated diagonally across North Church Street from the original location, the brick façade made the two-story building look pretentious in a way the one built in the ‘sixties never had.

Holding the door open for Amy, he asked, “What kind of doughnuts do you want?”

Apparently, he’d been forgiven for not letting her fly through his windshield. She smiled and pointed. “The hot sign’s on.”

“Good choice. Meet you there. Coffee?”

She wrinkled her nose. “Tea.”

He peeled off to place their order while she headed for the back of the building. The crowd looked like an even split between college kids and truck drivers. Textbooks lay open beside tall cups. A few big rigs lined the parking lot. Eric had no trouble spotting the weary truckers, the ones who studied the weather and the waitresses. A jolt to his side made him drop his gaze.

“Oh, so sorry,” a uniformed woman purred. “Show me where you’re gonna sit and I’ll bring you a complimentary coffee.” The slender blonde’s eyelashes fluttered. She brushed a stray lock of hair from her eyes and lowered her hand, grazing the front of her uniform. Her fingers lingered over her breast.

Barely resisting the urge to roll his eyes, Eric looked over her head for Amy. The striped shirt made her easy to spot, pulling two chairs across the aisle to a large table in the back.

Ordering a dozen glazed doughnuts, one coffee, and one tea, he paid, and was soon handed a tray. Turning, he found the same waitress standing in his way. He took a step to the left. The waitress moved to her right. He moved to his right. She scurried to her left. Amy looked up. Her eyes narrowed on his awkward dance.

“Pick a direction.” Eric sighed. “I’ll stand still.”

“Do you need some creamer?”

He needed metal bumpers like the wheelchair players had. Turning on his heel, Eric strode down a parallel aisle to reach the table where Amy was seated.

He recognized her father. “Hello, again. Sorry, I cannot remember your name, sir.”

Chortling, the man extended his hand. “Hi, Eric. Tucker Sizemore.”

He realized, looking around the table, he recognized every face. “You sold me my ticket last night.” He smiled at the woman seated beside Tucker.

“I’m Amy’s mother, Alice. Nice to see you again, Eric.”

“I, uh, still have that twenty.” The others at the table looked mystified, but Mrs. Sizemore laughed. Eric did
not
want to hear whatever his grandmother could’ve told this woman.

The team manager was seated across from him. Eric nodded. “Mister Rolley.”

“Can’t get over what you did last night, Eric.” The black man smiled. “We were just talking about that.”

“You mean, how bad I messed up?”

Gene Rolley leaned forward in his seat. His eyes were intent on Eric’s face. “You’ll never make that mistake again. That’s what life is, son, it’s learning what not to do. Any time you want to be the pit crew for my team, you just say the word and we’ll scrape up the money. Those wheelchair techs charge a fortune. Some of my boys have waited weeks to get their repairs done. And I surely appreciate you hookin’ me up with Maze Mason. He’s gonna be a real good addition for us.”

“Maze is good people.” Eric nodded.
Weeks? Nothing that can go wrong with those chairs would take more than an hour to fix.

“He was gonna join us this mornin’, but he got a call about a job, so he went to see about that.” Gene looked around the table, smiling widely. “But man, this guy took a team all the way to the national championships a couple years back. Next year, we’re gonna kick some butt. Just gotta find a place to train.” He shook his head and the smile faded. “Now that my number one choice is off the table, dunno where to look next, but I’ll find us a place.”

Sounded like Dan hadn’t wasted any time. 

“I can’t believe the old high school is burning. I had my first kiss in the halls there.” Alice sighed. “That reminds me, Amy. I forgot to ask about your project last night. How’s that going?”

Amy grabbed a doughnut. “The mall shot me down, kinda. They’d let us do it, but only if we can find a way to screen the court from people walking by. On all four sides. Any ideas?”

Tucker let out a low whistle. “Damn, that would take a lot of net. The portable floor’s regulation size. That’s eighty-four feet by fifty. Parks and Rec might have some net, but every inch is earmarked for a baseball field. We’re getting those fields ready for spring right now. Maybe I can check on the old nets they’re taking down.” Tucker shook his head. “The ones we’re replacing are riddled with holes, but they might stop a basketball. How the heck would we hang ‘em?”

“He said we could do the exhibition in the parking lot.” Amy licked icing from her fingers. “I didn’t know if that was okay with you, Gene. Fewer people would see the teams play. People don’t go to the mall to stand around outside.” She leaned back in her seat and frowned. “No easy restroom access, no place to change clothes. And, we’d have to wait till the weather warms up.”

“We’ll sure ‘nuff take it.” Gene reached to pat her arm. “Every little bit helps. People need to see my boys play and I know what this project means to you.”

Eric ate three doughnuts, sipped his coffee, and kept quiet while he listened to the conversation. Gene wanted to build a state-of-the-art training facility for wheelchair basketball. Tucker was trying to get county council to earmark money in the county’s budget to build a park with a special playing surface for wheelchair baseball.

As far as he could tell, these people had big plans on behalf of a group none of them belonged to. This wasn’t special interest. This was community leadership.

He’d never felt more like a small town mechanic, or more out of place.

Maybe his dick was doing him a favor.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. “Need that coffee heated?”

Eric let out a long breath.

He felt Amy’s stare.

Alice extended her cup. “Please. We’ve been trying to get your attention for ten minutes.” Tucker and Gene nodded, pushing their cups forward.

He darted a glance at Amy in time to see her lower her gaze from the waitress to him. Watching her eyes was like watching Dan roll down the garage doors at the end of the day. All the natural light was shut out, leaving cool fluorescent in its place.

Draining his cup, he got to his feet. “I’ll be by the tournament after I pick Kevin up.” He gave her shoulder a squeeze. “If you need me sooner, Lila will know where I am. If I don’t hear my phone ring, call her.”

“I won’t,” she muttered. “You should probably brush your teeth, so Lila doesn’t smell doughnuts on your breath.”

Eric ruffled her hair, wishing he could kiss her, but she had that rabid porcupine look about her, and
dude, parents.
“You’re so smart. I’ll grab a box for her.”

Smoke still hung in a heavy pall over the school grounds when he passed, but had dissipated enough for him to see the blackened bricks on the old high school gym. The rest of the school looked okay, since the gymnasium was a separate building, but the gym looked like a total loss. Firemen still milled about, but they weren’t wielding hoses anymore.

Ten minutes later, slowing beside John’s field, Eric stared at the house and barn, clenching the steering wheel. For the first time in his life, he wondered what his mother would say about a woman. His heart raged because he couldn’t ask.

He had no idea what Cammie might think of Cynda, or Lila, much less Amy. He couldn’t remember his mother well enough to even make a guess. Instead, he thought about his grandmother. Livia Chapman had been a teacher. She’d attended Converse College, and had started her career teaching fifth grade at the same elementary school where the wheelchair tournament was being held.

She’d kept the farm going while Nance did his hitch in World War Two. At the time, she’d taken to wearing pants, in an age when women were expected to wear dresses, because she swore she never knew whether she’d have to climb a tree, or fix a well pump, or welcome the minister for coffee. He smiled, remembering Livia saying if the preacher didn’t like her pants, he could go mooch someone else’s lemon pound cake.

She’d have liked Amy.

He didn’t bother slowing at the stop sign before he crossed De Marco Farms Road. Despite the heavy layer of snow, he navigated the trail easily, since the big tires on the Dodge had knocked down the brush the night before. Parking beside the packing shed, he pulled on the work gloves, calculating how many lengths of pipe he’d need.

If Amy wanted to hold her exhibition indoors, and Phil wanted to protect shoppers from being hit by a loose ball, maybe he could make both happy. Not that he gave a damn whether Phillip Chapman was happy, but outsmarting the arrogant prick sounded like a good way to spend a snowy Saturday.

Eric chucked thirty ten-foot lengths of pipe into the truck bed. After thinking for a moment, he added twenty more.

Retracing the path to the private lane, he turned in at Colton’s and grabbed the extra dozen doughnuts off the passenger seat. Testing the knob, he was relieved to find the door locked.

Lila threw the door open. He blinked. He wasn’t used to seeing her hair down. Light waves flowed over her shoulders and the ends curled nearly to her waist. She barely glanced at him, her attention riveted on the polka-dotted box.

“Oh, my!” The way she grabbed the pastries out of his hand made him chuckle. “Thank you! These are still warm. What possessed you to make a doughnut run?”

He shrugged, shifting from foot to foot. Why did he feel like a twelve-year-old? “Took Amy there to meet up with her parents. Her dad didn’t cancel the tournament. Came by to see if you need anything before I get busy. Everything all right? You need me to tend the fire? Anything?”

“Just one thing. Come on in.” She stepped aside. He stamped the snow off his boots and stepped through the door. Grams sat near the fire, poking at a square of fabric with a needle. To his shock, Lila tossed the doughnut box on the closest table and turned, throwing her arms around his neck. “Thank you so much,” she whispered in his ear.

“Gotta keep the baby mama happy,” he retorted. “Amy said you’d cut my throat in my sleep if you found out I went to Krispy Kreme and didn’t bring some back.”

She pulled back to look into his eyes. “Well, yeah. I’m tickled pink to have those, but I meant, thank you for giving Amy a place to stay.”

He’d expected a far different reaction from Lila, but he didn’t see a sign of the suspicion that’d shadowed Dan’s eyes this morning. He gave her a gentle squeeze, unsure what to say. “No problem. I guess Jonah’s still asleep?”

“Dead to the world.” Lila stepped back and nodded. She gave him a twisted smile. “I’m so jealous, I was thinking I might grab a pot and a spoon and go bang ‘em together, right over his head. Coralinne won’t let me.” She huffed, but he saw the smile playing on her lips.