CHAPTER 17

CHARLIE STOOD IN the aftermath of his television destruction. The floor of Popcorn Movies was littered with television remotes and shattered glass from the broken TV. The impulse aisle stanchions were all overturned. Anfernee stood there, mouth open wide. Charlie’s phone rang in his pocket.

“Hello?” he answered. He listened for a moment, nodded his head as if the person on the other end of the line could hear his head rattle, and then ended the call.

Anfernee gestured to the carnage. “Brah!”

Charlie shrugged. “I quit.”

“I’m not mad at ya, Chaz,” Anfernee said.

Charlie stepped lightly over the sharp shards and exited. Driving away from that place, Charlie felt free. He sort of wondered if there were going to be repercussions for harpooning a big hunk of metal at a TV set, but he figured they could keep his last paycheck, or whatever. He was never going back there.

Charlie drove past the Case Of The Mondays that was on the other side of Greenbelt Road from Popcorn Movies. Inside, Jonathan was about to slam dunk a fistful of chicken fingers into the dip cup of BBQ sauce, but his phone rang so he set down the poultry’s phalanges and answered it. His eyes went wide. He took a bunch of money out of his wallet, left it on the table, and bolted.

Miles away, Roheed had his shoes off in the line for security at the airport. His carry-on items were stuffed into a grey tray, ready for the conveyor belt. He was already picturing returning to the West Coast, getting some sleep, finishing up the paperwork on the sale of his app, and starting over. It hurt his heart but he felt that if he could get through the initial stages of mourning the loss of his relationship with Florence, that eventually he would be okay. He was practical in that way. But then he thought about the time he had spent with Florence, that first summer when their love had sparked a little fire that had grown and been burning ever since. He hardened his emotions. He was getting on the plane. It was over.

A tap on his shoulder rocked him out of his thoughts. It was Tammy. She was on the phone. She gestured to it and said, “Florence.” She handed him the phone. Roheed was surprised, so surprised that he walked out of the security line with his tray of carry-on items. His socked feet padded out of the airport with Tammy as he listened to the voice on the other end of the call.

Jill knocked on a door. She rang the doorbell and knocked again. June Summers opened the door, confused. June, of course, was the board member who had given Charlie, Roheed, Jill, and the rest of the snack bar crew such a hard time the summer that Bill had died. She had caught Jonathan living in the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club guard office. She had also been secretly rooting for Brown Town Hall and Recreation to win the Tri-County Relay Race because her twins, Channan and Shannon Twinsley—their father’s last name—were members of the Brown Town Swim Team.

Jill explained what she was doing there at June’s house. She talked too fast, but June listened intently. June called back into her house. Her other son, who was none other than Scott, the dude with the eye, whose last name happened to be Summers, appeared. June questioned him about the events of the night before, and he nodded sheepishly. June was appalled. The cops hadn’t caught up to Scott yet, but she told him that she was sure they would sooner rather than later and that he would be in a whole heap of trouble.

Chris was still sitting on Jonathan’s cot, contemplating their ruined wedding, wondering if they should just cut their losses and go to the Yellow County Courthouse to sign whatever papers and just be done with it. But then Jonathan darkened the doorway. Chris looked up. Jonathan was grinning. He was wearing an old Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club T-shirt, size M, just right. He reached out his hand. She took it.

Jonathan and Chris walked out of the building onto the lush quad. Judas was waiting for them in his Hummer H2. As Judas drove, Jonathan and Chris sat in the back, Jonathan’s arm around Chris. Chris watched out the window.

“Where are we going?” Chris asked.

But Jonathan didn’t answer and he didn’t need to. The roads and the trees and the sights became familiar to Chris and she got choked up and tears began to slip ’n slide down her cheeks, but she was smiling through them.

• • •

It was late afternoon by the time Judas’s H2 pulled into the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club parking lot. Charlie and Roheed were there; Charlie still in his Popcorn Movies uniform, Roheed still with no shoes on. Florence and Jill were there, and Tammy. Also in attendance were June and Scott Summers, and the Twinsley twins. Kenneth Strangleman was there too, as well as Devon Wilkenshire, who had been called to come unlock the guard gate. He had obliged and given his blessing to what was about to go down. Judas parked diagonally across all of the disabled person parking spots, because that’s the kind of D-bag he was and would forever be, even in a moment like this. He and Jonathan and Chris exited the car. The small crowd cheered.

“What’s going on?” Chris whispered to Jonathan.

“I’m not sure,” he replied. “But let’s just go with it.”

Chris smiled at Jonathan. She hugged him close. She knew whatever was happening on the pool grounds was probably positive. She felt secure holding Jonathan’s arm; they were a team. She would have followed—or led for that matter—him into battle.

Florence walked Jonathan and Chris into the Yellow County Community Swim and Racquet Club. It was sparsely but beautifully decorated for their wedding. Someone had hastily scrawled Poole-Partee on a piece of cardboard and lashed it to a guard umbrella. Blue-and-white-striped deck chairs lined the pool’s twelve-foot deep well area. The racing flags usually used at swim meets were strung like garlands around the high and low diving boards. Classical music played over the pool’s PA system. Chris’s dads were there, setting up the last of the decorations.

Jonathan covered his mouth with his hand, taking in the majesty. “Oh, wow,” he said quietly, humbled.

Chris just let it go, she cried and smiled and shook her head in disbelief. She waved to her dads, and they waved back.

“This is our wedding,” she said to Jonathan. “We found it.”

Jonathan squeezed her close, and said, simply, “Yeah,” because if he would have said anything more, his voice would have cracked with emotion.