“I had a little champagne at the wedding of one of my congregants.”
Ten eyes widened. David waslying!He’d seen Haystack refill his father’s cup at least three times that afternoon. Not to mention the fact that David wasn’t a pastor, which meant the happy couple weren’t members of his congregation. Aside from tales of Santa and the Easter Bunny, this was the first time he’d ever heard his father lie. Maybe his father wasn’t the man Ten thought he was.
“Out of the car please, sir.” Baxter took a step back, as David climbed from the driver’s seat. He wobbled briefly, but Ten figured it was more from fear than the hillbilly hooch. The officer ordered David to put his hands on the hood of the car before Baxter frisked him.
Shit just got real, as Cannon liked to say. Ten couldn’t help but think it might be worth getting arrested by the muscled hunk, just to have the man frisk him. One look into his father’s frightened eyes cured him of that fantasy quickly.
Ten watched as Baxter led David through a series of sobriety tests, while Kaye prayed. What the hell was going to happen if David was arrested? Would he have to go to jail? What would happen to Kaye? To Ten? Was he going to be arrested for underage drinking? His mind spun with the terrifying possibilities.
When the tests were finished, Baxter returned David’s license. The two men spoke briefly and David, looking as if his life was over, walked toward the passenger side of the car.
Church wasn’t Ten’s favorite place to be. All the Union Chapel Calvary Baptist Church had ever done for him was make him feel like he didn’t belong. Made him hate himself. Ten might not like the assholes in the pews, but he did like Jesus, who’d, unlike people wrongly believed, never said one derogatory word about gay men. Folding his hands together, Ten prayed like he’d never prayed before.
As David approached Kaye, she rolled down the window. Ten did the same. “I’m gonna need you to drive home.”
Nodding, Kaye quickly got out of the car and moved around to the driver’s side door.
“I’m letting you off with a warning, Mr. Grimm. Next time, do better. Be an example worthy of your son’s admiration.” With a curt nod to Tennyson, Baxter walked back to his cruiser.
Wordlessly, David got into the car and buckled his seatbelt. No one said a word.
No one needed to. Hard lessons had been learned. Ones which Tennyson never planned on repeating. He silently thanked his maker for keeping David, and by extension, himself, out of trouble.
One thing was for certain, he was never going to take another drink as long as he lived.
1
Ronan
June, present day…
Ronan O’Mara’s right wrist was killing him. He hadn’t been in this much pain since the Great Tom Brady Jerk-A-Thon of 2002. He’d actually been in so much pain, that he’d been afraid Erin was going to have to take him to the doctor. Thankfully, after sitting with a frozen bag of peas on his hand and frozen broccoli on chafed dick, he was good as new and didn’t have to figure out how to tell the doctor he was hand job royalty.
Salem Elementary School was celebrating step-up day with an ice cream social. Ronan had barely been able to hold back tears when Everly had walked across the stage to receive her first grade diploma. Ditto for when his daughter had been named Kindest Classmate, which not only came with a certificate, but gift cards to Build A Bear and Barnes and Noble.
Still basking in the glow of his Salem Witches Dead Run victory, Ronan had been tapped as one of the ice cream scoopers, along with fellow winners, Jude, and Fitz. He was still a little salty overevery participant being named a winner, but was trying not to let his bitterness show.
“Chocolate or vanilla?” Ronan asked Kenny P., newly reformed bully and gold medal nose picker.
“Ummm,” Kenny said, as he peered over the side of the ice cream case.
“How about one scoop of each, buddy?” Jude asked.
“Okay!” Kenny’s eyes glowed.
Ronan dutifully scooped and handed the bowl to Kenny. “Make sure your Mom adds the toppings!” The thought of Booger Boy ladling his own hot fudge made Ronan’s stomach turn.
“Are we all set for our trip to Rhode Island at the end of August?” Jude asked Fitz.
“Yeah, the rental van is booked, so is the hotel, which you guys are gonna love. It was built just before the Civil War. The façade is made from river stones. Our rooms face the ocean and there’s a private deck only our rooms have access to. It’s just gorgeous.”
“Anything is bound to be a step up after last year’s no-tell motel incident.” Ronan elbowed Jude in the ribs.
“We all had fun in Maine. No one died or got eaten by a sewer-dwelling clown. End of story.” Jude crossed his arms over his chest, as if he was daring Ronan or Fitz to disagree.
“Anyway,” Fitz continued. “The hotel is right on the beach and it’s not too far away from Newport. We can rent a sailboat, tour lighthouses, and eat our weight in lobster and fried clams.”
“Can you sail?” Ronan asked. He’d never been on a sailboat.
