“Should I change?” Not that I have much to change into, but at least it wouldn’tbe paint splattered and sweaty.
“No, you’re fine,” Ares assures me. I look him over, noting that he has a few speckles of paint dotted on his shirt too.
Milo locks the front door and we all head downstairs to the garage. We load into Ares’s SUV, with me in the back between Dante and Ollie, and Milo and Ares up front. The drive to the closest town takes us in the opposite direction from Canton.In less than ten minutes we come to a small downtown area. Several stores line either side of the street. There are a few restaurants and antique stores, along with a coffee shop and bakery. Ares continues down the road where a few older homes line the street. Going a little farther, I see the more modern part of the town—fast-food restaurants, chain stores, anda couple of gas stations.
“What do you think, anything look good?” Ares asks.
“There was a Mexican place back there.” Dante leans forward to look out the front window.
“That pizza place looks okay too.” Milo points at an unfamiliar sign promising thebest pizza in town.
I’m just relieved they aren’t picking a place where we’ll stand out like a sore thumb because we look like art school rejects.
“I’m fine with either,” Ollie adds, not helping.
“Let’s make another pass and we can park, then decide.” Ares pulls into the gas station and makes a loop, exiting to drive back in the same direction wejustcame from.
“Oh look, Chinese. I hope they havegood takeout.” I turn to look quickly at the shopping mall pushed back from the main road that Ollie was looking at.
“There’s a spot.” Milo points up ahead to an available spot in the historic part of town along the road. I wince, thinking I wouldn’t even attempt to parallel park this truck.
Ares glides past the spot and reverses in like it’s the simplest thing on the planet. No one but me reacts. “You will definitelyhave toteach me that. I’ve never even tried to parallel park.” Not that it was an option in the motor home anyway.
Ollie climbs out of the driver’s side and closes the door after him, while Dante reaches back in for my hand after he exits the passenger side. I step out to the bricked sidewalk in front of a tax preparation company.
In the distance I hear the hum of music playing.Without any real direction, we walk toward the center of town. There’s a large white gazebo stationed on a triangle of property, making up apark like setting with benches and trees all around.
“Well, this is cute as hell, am I right?” Ollie jumps up on a shortretaining wall and balances, walking foot in front of foot, his arms splayed wide.
“The Mayberry vibe is a little strong,” Milo comments, looking around. There are a few people exiting a candle shop across the street, each with small handled bags. A few people look in our direction but leave us to explore.
“There’s the place I was talking about.” Dante points to a colorful restaurant across the street. Through the large windows I can see several people sitting at big round tables.
“I could go for some tacos, let’sgive it a try,” Ollie concedes, forgoing the pizza.
Milo leads our group to the sidewalk and he touches the pole so the crosswalk will alert us when we can cross.
We wait through the lights. The traffic flows in four directions, but there’s a special light for the left turn, so it takes longer than usual. I feel like everyone that passes watchesour group, it’s probably just in my head, but I step a little closer to Milo’s back so I’m not as easily visible.
Eventually a beep sounds, and the lightindicates we should cross. The restaurant is on the corner of the building, and there are two wide doors between the large windows painted in a turquoise patina. Dante reaches the door first, holding it open for all of us as we pass through.
There’s no real hostess area, so we step right into the dining space. Our group is large enoughthatwe have to stand close to one another to fit between the tables when Dante enters, and the door closes behind him.
“Cozy,” Ollie mutters under his breath.
“We have seating upstairs. You guys are welcome to head up, someone will be right with you,” a boy around our age, with sun-kissed skin and dark hair, calls from the back of the restaurant. Ares winds us through the tables until we reach a wide set of steep stairs over on the left.The wall is made of exposed brick, and there are a few pictures on the wall, nothingreallynotable as we make our way up.
The upper floor is setup more like a bar with booths lining the walls, a pool table in the middle, and a dartboard near the bar that runs along the back wall. We find a larger round table empty near the pool table and take a seat.
The boy from downstairs follows us up moments after we sit, with several tall menus in his hands. “Hey, I’m Nico.” He gives us each a menu. “Can I start you with something to drink, an appetizer?”
“Chips andqueso,” Dante tells him before even looking at the menu.
“Got it, did you want salsa too?” Nico asks.
“Yes, mild and hot if you have it,” Milo replies.
“Drinks?” The waiter looks at me first.
