Chapter 3

Scott didn’t think it would be appropriate to ask Vicki to go have coffee or a Coke with him after the funeral service. And she was with her parents, so it might even be awkward to talk to her. He wished he could say something, though. She looked so pale and sad. Especially compared with the girl he’d met just a few days ago.

The service for SueAnne was too long and too religious for his taste. But maybe it was typical for this small town. No one else seemed restless. Well, yes, the guy right in front of him did. Maybe watching him had rubbed off, made Scott want to get this over with and get outside. The church was hot; they could have used the air-conditioning—if they had any. He could feel the sweat trickling down his arms, drenching his white shirt, starting to make his suit jacket damp.

The guy with the wire glasses kept glancing around the church. And was it Scott’s imagination or was there a tiny smile, or grimace, on his face? Not a smile, surely. That might be the way he looked all the time. Faces were strange. Vicki’s was so alive, and Scott figured you’d always be able to read her mood, since it would be reflected in her eyes and mouth. But some people had one expression for every occasion, and it wasn’t always appropriate or readable.

By the time the final hymn was sung, and the family had filed out from the first two pews, Scott wanted to run. But there was only one way out of the sanctuary. And to his dismay, everyone was going to have to pass right by a reception lineup of Mr. and Mrs. Groober, plus various and sundry other relatives. He didn’t know any of these people. What was he supposed to say?

Berk said it for him. He shook hands with Mr. Groober and murmured, “Sorry.”

Scott became his shadow, nodding his condolences. “Whew, that was awful, Berk,” he said as soon as they got outside. “You want to go someplace and get Cokes? My mouth feels like a refugee from Desert Storm.”

“Ditto. I didn’t know it’d be so long.” Berk wiped his forehead with a snowy handkerchief, smearing numerous dots of Clearasil. “When I go, just scatter my ashes into the Arkansas River. You like to fish, Lawrence?”

“Probably not. Living in New York City didn’t give me many opportunities to find out, though.”

“Oh, that’s right. I forgot. What did you do for fun in a place like that?”

“Hung out with whoever had the best Nintendo setup. Saw every movie that came out. That’s one of the things I miss most so far. How can you survive with one dinky little movie theater?” Playing mostly B movies, he said to himself, and no art films.

“Dinky?” Berk laughed. “Get a VCR, city boy.” Berk had driven his old but smooth-running Toyota jeep. He swung it around and pointed it toward town. “We’ll go to The Pit. Everyone hangs out there.”

Berk wasn’t kidding. The drive-in was jammed with cars and trucks. Scott had already figured out that as soon as a guy got his license down here, he bought an old truck. Then he put oversize wheels on it so you needed a stepladder to get into the cab. Maybe he’d get used to it, maybe he’d even like it, but so far Arkansas seemed like a foreign country compared to the City.

They had to park two blocks away. The air surrounding Hogsett’s Pit Barbecue was rich with smoky meat flavors. Despite what he’d just been through, Scott discovered he was starving. Any kind of barbecue sandwich or ribs ranked at the top of the plus side of this town. So far the minus column was about ten items ahead of the plus, but Scott had promised himself he’d try to adjust to his parents’ move. It was just for one year. He could go back to some Eastern college. His parents were stuck, but then it was their decision to come here in the first place.

Inside The Pit the booths were jammed full, so Berk and Scott leaned on the counter and ordered pork sandwiches and fries and Cokes. They’d sit down if a spot opened.

Eavesdropping, Scott discovered that the main topic of conversation was the funeral, and more so, the murder.

“How’d she die, Berk?” asked Scott. “Have you heard?”

“Not a mark on her.” Berk bit into his sandwich, which squirted sauce and pork bits out all sides of the bun.

“I heard she had a smile on her face,” said a boy sitting on the last stool at the counter. “Remember how she looked in that yellow dress last spring at the prom? God, she was a knockout. All the guys were calling her the yellow fox.”

“Who’d she go with?” Scott asked. He wouldn’t know the guy, but he wanted to join in the conversation.

“Are you kidding? J.D. Pike stuck to SueAnne like Krazy Glue. He knew if he got two steps away, some jock would try to beat his time.”

“King Kong of Sparksville football,” Berk filled Scott in. “Already has a scholarship guaranteed to U of A. Born Razorback. Everyone calls him Hog.”

“He doesn’t mind?” Scott grinned.

“In this state, Lawrence, hog is a magic word. You got a lot to learn, city boy.” Fries disappeared off Berk’s plate like magic. Not that any number of greasy fries or burgers were going to make a difference. Scott thought Berk was the skinniest guy he’d ever seen.

Scott found himself looking around for Vicki. Would she come here? No, there was a reception in the church basement after the service. She’d have to go there. Maybe she’d want to. SueAnne was her best friend.

“Who’s that?” Scott nodded toward a girl who’d get his vote for fox of the year. She had a mane of long curly hair the color of polished mahogany, and she tossed it around like a thoroughbred mare wanting attention. At a distance he could admire the cornflower blue sweater and the way she filled it out. Up close and personal, she would scare the hell out of him.

Scott was finding out that Berk was a smart aleck. He might look like nerd of the century, but he wasn’t shy. “Yo, Belle, you going to the homecoming dance with me this year?” he called out to the girl when she got close enough for her flowery perfume to compete with barbecue flavors.

She flashed Berk a smile that made every guy at the counter sit up straighter. “You should be so lucky, Berkie-boy. Too hot for you to handle.”

Scott knew she was right. He sure wouldn’t want to try. But he smiled back, since she gave him a quick once-over. He hoped his face wasn’t as red as it felt. He just thought he’d been sweaty in the church. Every pore was in flood stage with even his loafers feeling squishy.

A guy with anvil shoulders, who’d just come in, stopped her. “Leaving already, Babe?”

“’Fraid so. That nerd at the photo studio screwed up my pictures. Said he needed some retakes—no charge, of course.”

“Maybe he got an emergency call from Playboy, Belle.” The boy next to Berk entered the conversation. “Their issue on sweater girls of the South needs a couple more poses.”

“You might be right, Billy Ray.” Belle pretended to pout. “I’m not taking my clothes off for less than ten Gs though.” She gave Anvil Shoulders a glance. “Unless it’s my idea.”

His grin said it might have been her idea recently. Giving him a little wave, she left him standing there panting.

“Is that her steady?” asked Scott, basking in her wake.

“One of them.” Berk grinned. “Hey, I didn’t expect Vicki to come over here. Who’s she looking for?”

Scott forgot Belle instantly. Vicki was standing just inside the doorway to The Pit. Her eyes roamed over the crowd, obviously trying to find someone. Two tables of girls waved to her, but she returned the greeting and stayed put.

Her eyes landed on Scott and stopped. She stepped around bodies and through the crowd until she reached him. He didn’t realize he’d stopped breathing until she faced him and tugged at his sleeve. Either he’d grown a foot in two days, or she was shorter than he remembered.

“Do you have a car, Scott?” she asked quietly. “Can you take me home? I had Mom drop me off here, but I’ve realized it was a mistake.”

With a smooth sleight of hand, Berk pushed his car keys over until they rested on the palm of Scott’s open hand on the counter. “Catch you later.” Then he turned and headed toward the bathrooms.

Scott would give him an award for great new buddy of the year later. Right then, without saying a word, he tossed back the remains of his Coke so his lips would stop sticking together and took Vicki’s elbow. He steered her toward the front door. If anyone said anything to them, he was totally oblivious to it.

All he could think about was how grateful he was. Vicki obviously had some kind of problem, and she’d asked him for help.

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