“I’ll have a Coke and a basket of fried pickles,” he said.
“Same for me,” Booker said.
More small talk about Sea Blue Beach, the weather, and if VP George Bush would run for president filled the space until the drinks arrived.
“Here we are.” Maisy held up a camera. “Matt, could we please have a picture for our wall?”
“Of course.”
She hollered into the dining room. “He said yes, y’all. Comeon.” The entire place spilled onto the deck, staff and patrons alike.
Booker played photographer.
“Do you like it?” Booker said. “Celebrity life?”
“I like acting. I like the money. I like the open doors. But celebrity comes with a burden. And it sure didn’t help save the Starlight.”
“One of my cowgirls recently found out I knew you and went bonkers. Wanted me to invite you to the ranch, maybe film a movie there so she could be in it.”
Matt grinned and tipped his Coke. “How’d she find out you knew me?”
“I told her, didn’t I?” Booker thanked Maisy for his Coke and took a long drink. “Matt, I was already caught cheating before you blabbed.”
“What?”
“Based on my performance in class, there was no way I could’ve aced the test. Mr. Ellison called Dad. Your big mouth just told the whole school. Ellison was going to give me another chance, but when Principal Conroy got involved ... you know the rest of the story.”
“That doesn’t excuse me, Booker. I made it worse. But why didn’t you tell me this?”
“I was mad and hurt. Thought maybe you did it on purpose because I wrecked your car. I was humiliated, kicked out of the school named for my ancestors. I let myself and the family down.”
“Then why did you lay into me that Christmas at the Starlight?”
“Because I didn’t get to do it when we were seventeen. Eight years of seething came to the surface. I’d just started working on a ranch too, which felt beneath me at the time. Then I started learning about black ranchers and cowboys, their contribution to the west, and got good at my job—really good. Last year, when the owner, who sort of adopted me as his own, offered to sell me the business, I took it.”
Maisy arrived with their fried pickles and refilled their sodas.
“Want to know the irony?” Booker said. “When I got in trouble and Grandpa Morris took me on all his jobs. I learned welding, plumbing, electrical. I can build or fix anything on the ranch. He also told me stories, Matt.”
“What kind of stories?”
“The history of our family, of Sea Blue Beach. How Grandpa Malachi saved Prince Blue on a dark and stormy night. How Sea Blue Beach was built. He knew more history of the Starlight than your granny. He told me about your dad and Uncle LJ growing up with my dad. He’d say, ‘You and Matt best work things out ’cause the Knights and the Nickles go way back.’ Made me realize that history didn’t begin the day I was born, but I was responsible to write the next chapter. I knew I’d forgive you one day. Just notthatday.”
“I get it, man.”
“I do have one question, Matt. Whydidyou tell?”
Matt dipped a fried pickle into the horseradish sauce. “We were in Caffey’s barn drinking beer and one-upping each other.”
“You hated losing that game.”
“And I had the story of all stories. The guys thought it was great. But the girls didn’t understand our little game. They told. Book, if I could, I’d take it all back.”
“I wouldn’t.” Booker laughed softly. “My life turned out for the better. I look at Bodie and think there’s no way I’d want to be a lawyer. Ranching is physical, but it also takes a lot of creativity. I go to bed tired in a good way. My wife is brilliant at gardening and canning. We can survive the coming nuclear holocaust.”
“Harlow said something similar. How our journey is full of events that led to our destiny. I’m glad you’re happy with how things turned out. I’ve spent a lot of years loathing myself over this, and I want to let go but it’s hard.”
“Matt,” Booker said, leaning over his fried pickles. “You’re forgiven. Debt paid. Bodie’s been bugging me for years to get this over with, so please say we’re good so I can visit you in Hollywood.”
