Page 32 of Statler

But the front had a bench.

“I vote Stat doesn’t drive,” Hazard called out.

“Fine.” Statler rolled his eyes. He wouldn’t put up a fuss. They really didn’t like his truck.

It wasn’t a criticism of the make or model. Stat knew that. It was the condition of his vehicle that turned them off.

Statler was known as a clean freak at home and with his own personal hygiene. Not so much regarding his wheels.

There were always piles of plans and tools scattered about, cast-off coats and hats, notes to himself, and…the occasional, aromatic take-out bag that had been sitting on the floor for weeks.

Okay. Months.

The old girl wasn’t going to win any beauty contest, either. The Beast was just a rust-bucket held together by bolts and love, which no amount of scrubbing or decluttering was going to fix. The crew, sarcastically, had blessed her with her nickname, and it fit.

Throaty and dented up as she was, Statler felt bonded to her, and despite the chiding from his team that it was time to retire The Beast, he already knew he was going to drive her until she couldn’t make it another mile.

They quickly gathered their equipment, and drove, one behind the other, back to the cottages.

The little homes looked pretty damned charming in the late afternoon light, and Statler already knew they’d be spending a lot of time on the covered front porches, weather permitting.

Mentally, Statler added a grill to the list of things he wanted to pick up in the larger town where they were headed. If there was a home-improvement store.

He already knew there were supply houses and lumber yards in the vicinity where they could get the smaller bits and pieces they needed for the build; things that weren’t being delivered to the site by their regular suppliers. But he hadn’t thought to look for one of the more “home-owner-friendly” type of places.

He quickly scrolled through his phone before getting out of The Beast, and found that the shopping plaza where they’d be buying their groceries was in close proximity to a likely looking hardware store.

Statler left his truck, smiling.

“I’m going to spring for a grill,” he told his people, excitedly.

Blue shook her head and crossed her eyes.

“You’re kidding, right?” she scoffed. “Typical guy stuff. You do know it’s September, right?”

Everyone regarded her blankly.

She huffed. “That means two months of use, max, before none of us will want to be standing outside in the snow, flipping burgers.”

“Speak for yourself,” Tonka grunted. “I’ll grill in a blizzard.”

Statler put an immediate stop to a debate he knew would last a long freaking time if they got their teeth into it.

“Enough. Regardless of how long we can use it, I’m still buying a grill.” He grinned. “We’ll put it at Blue’s house because she’s in the middle.”

“Asshole,” Blue groaned, sticking out her tongue.

Yeah. It was pretty fun to tease the buttoned-up Blue every now and then.

“So, who’s driving?” Statler asked, changing the subject.

He suddenly felt better.

Like his brain was resetting to normal. This outing was just what he needed. A little comradery, a little shit-talk, and some food.

Definitely some food.

“I’m grabbing a bag of chips for the road,” Tonka declared, like he’d been reading Statler’s mind.