She came in closer, biting at my ear.
I slid the car into drive and took off, sending her to the back of her seat. Scarlett howled and we both laughed.
I took the long way to her parents’ house. It was on the Cane River, a sprawling estate that had been built sometime during the Civil War, complete with tall white columns and oak trees, Spanish moss drifting in and out of bursts of sunlight that snuck through thick, rustling leaves.
Eunice stood in the open doorway, waving a kitchen towel at us, smiling from ear to ear. She was going with us to New York, but she had come home to visit before setting off again.
The Fausti three would be there too, before we made it.
Old Colt—one of the finest mechanics in Louisiana—Mitch, Everett, and a few other guys that Elliott and I had gone to school with stood around the Chevy, looking at her motor.
One thousand horsepower existed under that sexy, raven-coated hood. Her chrome lining was as smooth as a woman’s slick thighs.
Scarlett stretched when she hopped out of the car. The spirit of home invigorated her too. The weather was crisp. The smell of pine, muddy water, and frost hung heavily in the air. It felt good in the lungs. The tang of hops formed a cloud around the Chevy. Some oldie played real low on her radio. The rumble of her powerful heart almost drowned out the sound.
“Brando! Dude!”
The guys started to hover closer together, smiles on their familiar faces. Scarlett kissed me and they all whistled. She stuck her tongue out at them and they laughed even harder.
“I’m going to go through our things and repack,” she said. “Then get ready for tonight. You know, girl stuff.”
“Sounds like fun,” I said, grinning against her mouth. “Let me know if you need any help with the bath part.”
“Mmhm.” Her eyes grew soft and warm at the suggestion.
“What’s up with this?” Dexter opened and closed his hands. “Bros over wives, brah!”
“Hey, Dexter, whenyoucan keep his bed warm, then I’ll listen to your worn-out smack!” Scarlett yelled back.
The men all made low noises, shoving him, giving him hell.
“That’s my little girl,” Everett said, lifting his beer in some kind of parental salute.
“Ooh, come on,” Dexter said, his ears pink. “Give me a break, lil’ dancer!”
“Uh huh,” Scarlett said, giving him a fierce stare. When she got to the front door, and Eunice hugged her so hard I hissed out a breath in empathy, a group of women—some of the men’s wives and girlfriends—started to make their way out one by one.
“Is Brando here?” one woman asked.
Mitch gave me a heavy pat on the shoulder. “Nothing changes at home,” he laughed. “Not a damn thing but the weather, brother.”
Hallelujah. I smiled, accepting a cold beer with thanks.
* * *
I lost track of time. Hours had gone by and the sun was starting to set, sending gold ripples across the darkness of the river. The temperature had dropped, but the men and I stood around, still reminiscing and laughing. Reliving times with Elliott always felt like having him close, keeping him alive through us.
The women had finally retreated back into the house, not satisfied with my decision to keep my shirt on. They even fucking boo’d at me.
“Why don’t you and Scarlett stay longer?” Dexter asked. “Ya’ll just got here, man. There’s football season. The Christmas Festival.”
“Scarlett’s position with the ballet starts soon. We need to get there and get settled in before she starts.”
All of the men settled with a sigh against the car, all but Colt, who still messed around under the hood. All that horsepower and custom work made him glow.
“Damn.” Wesley shook his head. “That girl of yours is a fine dancer.”
“Always has been,” Austin said. “Remember how proud Elliott was of her?”
