“Do you ever think about getting a newer model?” Ben asked from under the van’s hood.
“Don’t say that!” Kyle said. He patted his van’s dented bumper. “Don’t listen to him; he didn’t mean it.”
“Don’t get me wrong,” Ben said. “I’m as big a fan of classic cars as anyone, but, with Caroline and all, I mean, aren’t you worried about safety? This thing doesn’t have modern airbags, and the body is fifty percent rust.”
“Thirty percent!” Kyle said. “And it’s safe enough.”
Ben swore as he rummaged deep inside the van’s inner workings.
“But it’s only a matter of time before a couple of my hours on a Friday night aren’t going to be enough to keep her running anymore. You should sell the van for scrap. I could get you a good deal on a newer ride.”
Except that wasn’t an option, because Ben’s idea of a good deal would cost more than a Princess Amazonia tree hut.
“We’ll be okay for a while longer. And what would I do with an SUV like yours? Can you imagine? Kirsten and the dealership may have your nuts in a vise, so that you think any vehicle that’s not a Range Rover is a death trap, but that doesn’t mean the rest of us are going to be lining up at the country club anytime soon.”
“You’d get used to it.” Ben laughed as he wiped his hands on a rag draped over the van’s front headlight. “Give it a try now.”
Kyle climbed into the driver’s seat and turned the key in the ignition. The motor coughed once, and then the van roared to life.
“You, sir, are the best best friend ever!” Kyle hooted.
“Leave it running for a minute. I want to see how it sounds.” Ben bent to pick up the half-finished beer he had set on the floor earlier. Rain ran in streams down the asphalt and out onto the street as both men stood together at the edge of the garage.
“This weather needs to stop,” Ben said. “The girls are going stir-crazy, and if I have to hear the opening theme to Princess Amazonia again, I’m moving out.”
“It’s the same over here.” Kyle took a swig of his own beer. “My dad was humming ‘Save the River’ one morning this week over breakfast. I threatened to call the hospital about a potential epidemic. He might have a crush on Amazonia too.”
“Well, Amazonia’s a babe, obviously. Kirsten had a funny look on her face when we watched the Prince Arvin shirtless swimming scene the other night though. There’s something going on there,” Ben said. Kyle laughed. Prince Arvin was pretty easy on the eyes too, but Kyle didn’t remember a shirtless swimming scene. He’d have to check it out later.
They stood in silence for a moment, watching the rain and listening to the roar of the van’s engine.
“Did you know this was going to be our life? In high school?” Kyle asked.
“What, beers in the garage and working on cars? Absolutely.”
Kyle envied his certainty. Ben had always known what he wanted to do. Fix cars. Get married and stay in their hometown.
“No,” Kyle said. “Princess cartoons, hiding from our daughters.” He didn’t want to knock what Ben had going, but the last month, waking up every morning in his father’s guest room, driving the same streets, seeing the same people, it had all started to get to him. Sometimes he felt like a permanent itch had developed under his skin, and there was nothing he could do to find relief.
“Pretty much. The van sounds fine.” Ben turned toward the van. “You’ll want to keep an eye on the radiator and the internal temperature. If it overheats too much it’ll—”
“Seize up. I know. That’s what they told me before. If the van got us across the country, it’s got a few years left.” Kyle ignored the face Ben made as he shut the engine off.
His phone rang, and he groaned inwardly when he saw who it was. “This is Kyle.”
“Kyle! We have a problem!”
“Eva?”
“Yes it’s Eva, Kyle. I have a problem!” Eva Munro was one of his newer clients. She was a writer who had published her first book, a self-help manual for financial management. “Some troll online gave the book one star.”
“And?”
“One star, Kyle! Do you know what that does to the average? I need to stay above four to keep the book visible. I’m down three-tenths right now; it was at four and a half this morning. It’s a disaster!”
“Okay,” he said. “It’s okay.” He respected everyone’s right to read and like or not like a book, but not when it meant fielding phone calls from panicked writers at . . . He checked his watch. God, it was nearly nine o’clock. His clients knew he was technically only available from eight to eight East Coast time, but that hadn’t stopped Eva from calling at odd hours in the past.
“I’ll call the publisher in the morning and find out if we can’t squeeze another couple free copies out of them. I’ll do some research and see if there are other reviewers we haven’t contacted who would consider reading it.”
It took some negotiating, and listening to Eva rant, but eventually they agreed that Kyle would call her in the morning to let her know what the publisher said. He took an extra minute to make notes on his phone after he hung up.
“So listen,” Ben said as Kyle rejoined him, “I’ve got a pickup basketball game tomorrow afternoon, and we’re short a guy. Do you think you could come?”
Kyle frowned. “Isn’t the whole point of pickup that you work with whoever’s there?”
“Well, yeah.” Ben stuffed his hands in his pockets and shifted his weight from foot to foot. “We always have the same group of guys. Except this week, Mark’s off on a cruise and Aidan’s kid’s got the flu and his wife won’t let anyone leave the house, so . . .”
“Ben.” Kyle put on the same voice he used to explain to Caroline why bedtime had to happen every night. “I’ve known you for almost twenty years, and you have always been a terrible liar.”
“It’s not—” Ben let his eyes wander everywhere around the garage without ever landing on Kyle.
“Did my dad put you up to this?” Kyle asked.
Ben examined his shoes. “Maybe.”
“Do you remember that time in seventh grade where I managed to break my ankle playing scooter hockey?” Kyle asked. Ben had the guts to smile at the memory. “Exactly. I appreciate you and Dad trying to get me involved in stuff, but do you think I, of all people, should be your substitute for pickup basketball?”
“It’s really relaxed! We play around for an hour and then go out for a beer. No one’s going to care if you’re not great at it.”
Kyle shook his head. “It doesn’t matter anyway. Someone has to watch Caroline, and my dad’s working tomorrow.”
“Kirsten could take her. If it’s raining they’re going to stay in and bake or do crafts. Doesn’t matter if it’s two girls or three. And if it’s nice, I think she’s taking them to the park. There’s a spring festival going on, with balloons and face painting. Caroline will love it!”
Kyle squinted at his friend.
“Very convenient,” he said. “You’ve got this all organized. You probably cleared it all with my dad and Kirsten. Came up with a list of possible solutions to every reason I have not to go?”
“Come on, Kyle. You’ve been here a month, and I only ever see you when the girls get together to play or if your van craps out. You spend all your time in this house with that stupid phone attached to your ear. You have to spend some time in the real world before you lose your mind. If all you want to do is pass out Gatorade, I don’t care, but I promised your dad I’d take you out for an afternoon, and that’s what I’m going to do!” He was a little wide-eyed, and his chest heaved.
“Rehearsed that whole speech, didn’t you?” Kyle asked.
“Shut up.” Ben’s lips twitched.
“Fine.” Kyle poked him in the chest. “But don’t say I didn’t warn you when our team loses hard, and you have to drive me to the hospital after I break the other ankle!”