Page 27 of Saints & Sailors

Permanent stay or not, I wasn’t sure I could ever get used to any of this.

The restaurant Scott took us to was casual at best. My top and shorts combo wasn’t out of place as I caught a woman wearing plain jeans and a T-shirt.

The mood was American, with a menu that offered everything from burgers, steaks, seafood, and even pizza. I went with their lemon and herb roasted chicken and Scott chose a steak, medium rare.

Together we sat across from each other at a table while the perimeter of the restaurant held booths other parties were seated at. The place, Hughes Restaurant, wasn’t too packed for a Monday evening. There was chatter in the air, but not enough to where we couldn’t carry a conversation.

If I still had friends, or a life back in LA, I would’ve spent the wait on our meals texting. Rude or not.

Scott gathered his glass of water and took a sip. “How was school?”

“School was fine. I’m not behind or anything, so that’s good. I don’t have to kill myself to catch up.”

“If you do need any help, Cameron’s a smart girl,” Scott said.

I bet she was. “Okay.”

“You ever been a cheerleader?”

“Not happening ever, Scott.”

My tone of voice caused him to laugh, but I was serious. I wouldn’t be caught dead in a short skirt waving pom-poms and giving off pep.

“I’m just trying to find some activities you can fall into,” Scott explained. “One of my buddies owns a farm and could teach you to ride horses.”

I frowned. “I don’t think horses should be ridden.” The way Scott gazed at me had me explaining my point further. “I think it’s sorta cruel, you know? The whole headgear thing they wear and the fact that people are yanking on it. Horses should be free, and people should ride bikes.”

Scott sat across from me studying me, making me feel out of place.

“What?” I demanded to know.

“That’s interesting,” he said. “It’s different, but I like it.”

I could be weird like that. I ate meat, but I was against things like riding horses, hunting deer or rabbit, or any baby animal. Hypocritical to some, which was why I didn’t deem myself any sort of activist.

“So,” I moved on as our food finally arrived. “What was it like growing up here?”

Scott buttered his potato as he gave his answer some thought. “We weren’t exactly poor, but we had some tight times. My father worked day in and day out to provide for my sister and me, along with our mother.”

Right, I had an aunt on his side. “Where’s your sister again?”

“Florida, she’s on a permanent vacation,” Scott joked. “She married a nice guy and they have a bundle of children.”

“And you have me.” Now.

“Yeah.” A twinkle lit Scott’s dark eyes. “When I was twenty I had enough and took off to LA, I wanted to be a rock star, I wanted to play in the best band and tour the world.”

“And then what happened?”

“I crashed and burned.” His defeated laugh was kind of sad really. “I ended up in this really small one-bedroom apartment, working tables at this country club for the rich and snotty. I played in a band at night at some cheap bar. It didn’t bring in any income, mostly thirty bucks I had to split with three other guys.”

Times had been more than rough in Scott’s life.

“That had to suck,” I said.

Scott agreed as he cut into his steak. He took a bite and moaned out his enjoyment. “This place makes the best food.”

I was only a few bites into my chicken and I had to agree.