Running his eyes over the timber front of the Roar, he saw the prerequisite notice board, and through the windows, the laden shelves and things hanging from the rafters. Pushing open the door, he entered.
“Morning.”
“Morning,” Brad said to the man reading a paper behind the counter. The smell hit him first. Candles, confectionary, and herbs. Stuff was everywhere, the aromas mixing together to create a spicy scent. Ducking under some dried flowers, he walked down the aisles. By the end of the second one, he had his arms loaded with things he hadn’t known he needed.
“Morning.”
He found DJ O'Donnell seated at the rear.
“Morning.”
“Let me get you a basket for all that.”
He watched Declan retrieve a basket and then Brad lowered his purchases into it.
“Those chocolates are special, and after those, try the mint. If you want shorts, they have a few pairs. There's also a menswear a few doors up, but those are dressier.”
“Ah, sure. Do I need shorts then?” Brad looked down at his worn jeans. He wore them pretty much daily, unless he was doing business.
“The temperature's going up today, Brad. You'd be better off if you had a pair.”
“I'm used to jeans.”
“Sure, but you may want to throw yourself in the lake occasionally. Let me show you what Mac's got.”
Brad was determined to win this conversation. He liked jeans, and if he needed shorts, he'd cut up a pair of jeans to get them.
“I'll just cut the legs off these then.”
“Be a shame. Jeans that are worn in are a special thing.”
“What's the deal with you people?” Brad said as he followed DJ O'Donnell, because what the hell else was he supposed to do? He was pretty sure he wasn't dreaming, and that the famous novelist was about to fit him for a pair of shorts.
“Deal?”
“First Buster and Jake give me a nickname, and now I need shorts?”
“Buster likes nicknames, as evidenced by his friends, who all have them. What did he give you?”
Brad just looked at the Irishman.
“I'll hear within the hour anyway.”
“Is there something in the water in this town?”
Declan laughed. “It takes a while to get used to, but once you do, there's no better place.”
The man then turned and headed for a rack.
“My pick is the blue, seeing as you got those eyes.”
The Irish burr was muffled as he dived into the rack.
“Morning.”
“Newman, how you doing?”
“Good, Declan. Nice day for it. Whatever it is you're doing?”
