noting the many expensive SUVs and minivans, and the almost as many attractive young women, most of them hauling little kids around.
A light beep of a horn behind him made him startle. He waved an apology before roaring on through the light, headed for the heart of downtown Lucasville. His hometown, where his father managed the hometown bank and his mother had died of hometown cancer thanks to her addiction to cigs. Where he and his brother had grown up—happy, well-funded, oblivious to the tragedy that was lying in wait.
No. Terry, drop it. Don’t go there.
He gritted his teeth, and his heart sped up ever so slightly as he rounded the big curve and drove down the hill onto Main Street. The familiar sight of the downtown grid gave him a surprising jolt of happiness. He took comfort in the contours of the old streets even though over half of the stores and businesses he recalled were gone, replaced with—he squinted as he drove slowly past—a wine and quiche joint? A kombucha bar? Seriously?
Seriously.
He spotted trendy-looking bookstores, coffee shops, expensive-looking clothing stores. There were a few familiars—his father’s bank hadn’t changed a lick. The Love Pub, the original brewery location where he’d hung out with two or three of the Love brothers growing up, stealing beer and generally raising hell like only those boys could. Sug’s, the ice cream parlor looked to be as sticky and perfect as ever.
When he spotted half a block allocated to a place called “Renee’s,” he grinned. He’d read about Renee Reese opening up her own place which, thanks to the massive influx of rich suburbanites with nothing better to do with their money than blow it on facials, massages, pussy waxing and hair coloring, had made her regionally famous.
He had to acknowledge a thrill of teenaged erotic memory with regard to Renee. She’d been in the class behind his, and before she’d gotten tangled up with first one, then another of the annoyingly attentive Love brothers, he’d popped her cherry, while alleviating himself of his own, pretty early in the game, he realized.
It had been messy and embarrassing until they got the hang of it. And they’d engaged in a lot of practice, getting better at it, mostly in her mother’s basement, sometimes at the Love’s pool parties.
Renee Reese .
He chuckled and zoomed past, figuring he’d have to look her up, rekindle a little fun. He hoped she hadn’t married one of the new money rich guys and now presided over a passel of kids in a McMansion built on one of the many former horse farms around the town. Or maybe she had, and that wouldn’t matter to her once she saw him again.
The sidewalks were busy, busier than he’d imagined they would be on a random late summer Tuesday mid-day. When he was growing up, most families who could manage it decamped to the lake for the summer. God knows they had, at least until it became clear that his and Quentin’s love for soccer and their abilities at the game would dominate the summer months between camps and training and travel, trying to get seen by the right college coaches.
As he puttered along, taking in all the memories that bombarded him at the sight of his many old haunts, he had to acknowledge that he was glad to be back. A shocking admission considering how he’d left—halfway through his college degree, starting on the Akron Zips top-ranked team—furious, confused, miserable and vowing never to return.
He waved at a couple of the hotter suburban ladies waiting to cross at the light, relishing their double-take at the sight of him on his Harley, complete with leather jacket, dark Ray bans, and stubbly jaw. Then he kept going, figuring he shouldn’t have the big father-son reconciliation moment at the bank, hoping there hadn’t been a lock change at his childhood house, all the while wondering if he could stand going back into the place.
Wondering if the man even still lived there, rattling around in its
A light beep of a horn behind him made him startle. He waved an apology before roaring on through the light, headed for the heart of downtown Lucasville. His hometown, where his father managed the hometown bank and his mother had died of hometown cancer thanks to her addiction to cigs. Where he and his brother had grown up—happy, well-funded, oblivious to the tragedy that was lying in wait.
No. Terry, drop it. Don’t go there.
He gritted his teeth, and his heart sped up ever so slightly as he rounded the big curve and drove down the hill onto Main Street. The familiar sight of the downtown grid gave him a surprising jolt of happiness. He took comfort in the contours of the old streets even though over half of the stores and businesses he recalled were gone, replaced with—he squinted as he drove slowly past—a wine and quiche joint? A kombucha bar? Seriously?
Seriously.
He spotted trendy-looking bookstores, coffee shops, expensive-looking clothing stores. There were a few familiars—his father’s bank hadn’t changed a lick. The Love Pub, the original brewery location where he’d hung out with two or three of the Love brothers growing up, stealing beer and generally raising hell like only those boys could. Sug’s, the ice cream parlor looked to be as sticky and perfect as ever.
When he spotted half a block allocated to a place called “Renee’s,” he grinned. He’d read about Renee Reese opening up her own place which, thanks to the massive influx of rich suburbanites with nothing better to do with their money than blow it on facials, massages, pussy waxing and hair coloring, had made her regionally famous.
He had to acknowledge a thrill of teenaged erotic memory with regard to Renee. She’d been in the class behind his, and before she’d gotten tangled up with first one, then another of the annoyingly attentive Love brothers, he’d popped her cherry, while alleviating himself of his own, pretty early in the game, he realized.
It had been messy and embarrassing until they got the hang of it. And they’d engaged in a lot of practice, getting better at it, mostly in her mother’s basement, sometimes at the Love’s pool parties.
Renee Reese .
He chuckled and zoomed past, figuring he’d have to look her up, rekindle a little fun. He hoped she hadn’t married one of the new money rich guys and now presided over a passel of kids in a McMansion built on one of the many former horse farms around the town. Or maybe she had, and that wouldn’t matter to her once she saw him again.
The sidewalks were busy, busier than he’d imagined they would be on a random late summer Tuesday mid-day. When he was growing up, most families who could manage it decamped to the lake for the summer. God knows they had, at least until it became clear that his and Quentin’s love for soccer and their abilities at the game would dominate the summer months between camps and training and travel, trying to get seen by the right college coaches.
As he puttered along, taking in all the memories that bombarded him at the sight of his many old haunts, he had to acknowledge that he was glad to be back. A shocking admission considering how he’d left—halfway through his college degree, starting on the Akron Zips top-ranked team—furious, confused, miserable and vowing never to return.
He waved at a couple of the hotter suburban ladies waiting to cross at the light, relishing their double-take at the sight of him on his Harley, complete with leather jacket, dark Ray bans, and stubbly jaw. Then he kept going, figuring he shouldn’t have the big father-son reconciliation moment at the bank, hoping there hadn’t been a lock change at his childhood house, all the while wondering if he could stand going back into the place.
Wondering if the man even still lived there, rattling around in its
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