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“Gah—Stop!” He cracks up, recovering his stomach when I let go.
I pat him on the back, and we share a laugh.
“Wanna look around while we’re here?” I toss my chin to the rear of the shop.
There’s not much in here that interests me, but they’ve got a small children’s section in the back and it’s a good way to kill time.
I stay a step behind Bhodi until he finds one of those old-fashioned peg board games where you jump your opponent with a golf tee. We play a few rounds. He wins one and I win another.
As we’re leaving to meet up with his buddies, Bhodi stops to inspect a Christmas tree display.
“Little early for Santa there, dude.”
“This is cool.” He holds up a paper star-shaped ornament at the same time another larger one made from metal and hanging from the ceiling catches his attention. “Wow! My mom would love this.” He reaches up.
I beat him to the price tag because he’s right. The black tin and angles are totally something Holly would enjoy. Bhodi has pocket change, but it’s not going to cover the hundred bucks the lamp he wants to bring his mom costs.
“How much is that one?” I ask about the ornament he still has in his hands.
It’s white and not as impressive as the big one, but it’s still got extra designs to the flat areas with parts that have been punched out so you can see through it. This one is delicate where the other is rugged. I honestly think she’d like either and flip the tag. Of course, it’s more than the twenty Holly slipped Bhodi to get himself a souvenir. Since he’s not gunning to buy anything for himself, I offer to float him the extra.
After making the second purchase, we discover the rest of our group congregating outside. The other kids mill in and out of the shop. I don’t hear any of them wonder aloud to Bhodi why we left, which is good. I don’t want him teased about having a weak stomach.
A few jet off for the restrooms before the adults agree it’s time to leave. Approaching the car, I realize how useless it was parking beneath a tree considering the unexpected heat today. The sun has been beating through the wagon’s windows.
I turn the vents on full blast and Glen and I shoot the shit, waiting a few minutes for the interior to cool down before we let the boys get in. Since it’s coming up on dinnertime, we decide to stop for burgers instead of trekking the two hours back to Brighton right away. Despite the complaints, Bhodi and his friend were good sports about being on their best behavior. It scored them points.
It’s the smartest decision we make, alongside not asking the kids to dump their sodas in the trash as we leave the fast-food joint.
“I hate to eat up more time, but need to fill up before we hit the highway.”
“Gas guzzler?” Glen quips, following it up with “No problem.”
I put the key in the ignition and twist. The engine clicks. Not a good sign when cars of this era make an abundance of noise when they roar to life. Flicking the switch, the headlamps faintly illuminate a tree a few yards away. My instincts are right. It’s not the battery.
“Fu—damn,” I mutter, remembering at the last second I have kids in the car.
“What’s wrong?” Bhodi pipes up from the backseat.
I’m already around the front bumper, popping the hood.
“I’m almost certain we’ve got a bum starter.” Wiggling the connection, I tell Glen to try the key again.
“No luck,” he replies. “Too bad we don’t have a hammer to bang on it with.”
I pull out my cell, hitting the number for the towing service. “Fortunately, I know a guy with the right connections.”
Unfortunately, we’re stuck here until the truck arrives.
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It’s almost midnight when Bhodi pounds on the door to their condo. The lock flips and Holly opens it, quick to wrap her arms around her son, and drags us inside.
Slinging his gear onto the foyer floor, I happen to notice the bottle of whisky in her grip before she puts it on the entry table along with a shot glass.
