4. Gary's Beach

Chapter Four

Mercedes, Number One

Roanoke City, Strike County

The beach was dark as Mercedes sat in the sand, back pressed against the tire of his Corvette. Waves lapped gently against the shore a few feet away from where Mercedes’ outstretched feet rested in a heap of sand. Smoke curled lazily above his head towards the sky, undisturbed by the wind due to the Corvette’s shield. The beach was right outside Roanoke City. It was one of his favorite places to go when his lungs would not stop burning for a cigarette.

Always, it reminded him of Wheels.

Mercedes could hear cars going by on the highway somewhere above him over the lesser sound of the ocean waves. The sound of the cars was more relaxing than ocean waves ever could be but the beach would always hold a special place in Mercedes’ heart. And that kept him coming back.

He closed his eyes and took a drag, slowly exhaling the smoke out of his nostrils as he leaned his head back against the side of the car.

Something thunked nearby and Mercedes peeled an eye open. It had the sound of a car door closing. A few moments later, Mercedes heard the sound of a person sloshing through the sand towards him. The night was not painted by red and blue, so Mercedes figured he was safe. Besides, it only sounded like one person, so Mercedes knew he could probably get in his car and go on short notice if nothing else.

A shadow fell over his face as a man came around the side of his car from the road. Mercedes looked up at Corey’s familiar form before closing his eyes again and puffing on his cigarette. Corey dropped into the sand next to him.

“Rye,” he said.

Mercedes opened one eye and rolled his head in Corey’s direction. “It’s been years since I’ve heard that,” he said, heart beating irregularly at the sound of the name on Corey’s lips. Rye wasn’t his legal name. It was a nickname that Corey had given him years ago that had become a code between them. When Mercedes was Rye Curse, he wasn’t a street racer and Corey wasn’t a cop. They were just two people. Corey had said Rye had been his cousin’s name.

“I know,” Corey said. “It’s been years since we’ve been this close to each other.”

Mercedes shut his eye again. “I suppose you should know,” he said. “Seeing as it was your call.”

“Yeah,” Corey agreed.

“Why are you here?” Mercedes asked.

“I thought I might find you here,” Corey said. “It’s good to see that some things never change.”

“When you have something good going, there is little desire to change it,” Mercedes said.

“You and I both know that what we had wasn’t exactly something good,” Corey said. Mercedes heard him take out a pack of cigarettes and light his own. “We come from different sides of the road.”

“Obviously you forgot that I like to come here when I don’t want to talk about things like this,” Mercedes said.

He puffed the last bit of his cigarette and then squished the end between his thumb and forefinger. Instead of flinging it towards the water, he held it there for a while.

“I know,” Corey said. “It reminds you of your dad.”

Mercedes tried not to shudder at that. The beach had been his dad’s favorite place, the ocean waves what killed him. The beach was also reminiscent of the man Mercedes had killed in revenge.

“Can I sit here with you for a bit?” Corey asked.

“Yeah, I guess,” Mercedes said. He flicked the cigarette butt into the waves.

Corey offered him the green side of the half pack but Mercedes shook his head. “You begin planning for the big winter events yet?” he asked.

“Not yet,” Mercedes said. He leaned his shoulder against Corey’s bare arm and lowered his head to rest on the other man’s shoulder. It felt relaxing, comfortable, but mostly, it felt like the past.

“I don’t think you should host those in Strike this year,” Corey said.

“And why should I listen to you?” Mercedes asked.

“My foot is in a place that you can’t see,” Corey said.

“Is that a threat?” Mercedes asked.

Corey’s arm came up around Mercedes’ shoulders. It wasn’t tense. His muscles felt as relaxed as Mercedes was. “No,” Corey said. “Just an advisory.”

Mercedes grunted in response. He didn’t want to talk about that. He didn’t want to talk, period. He just wanted to listen to the waves and the road noise. Lean against Corey’s shoulder like he used to seven years ago with Corey’s arm around him. Before Corey decided that the risk wasn’t worth it.

“Seeing anyone these days?” Corey asked.

Opening his eyes again, Mercedes tilted his gaze up at Corey’s dark face. Corey was by no means taller than Mercedes, who measured in at six foot three inches, but Mercedes had mastered the art of scrunching down so that Corey felt bigger than he really was.

“If I was, what makes you think it is any business of yours?” Mercedes asked.

“In other words, no,” Corey said. His hand stroked up and down Mercedes’ shoulder. “How’s the kid? He’s gotta be, what, eighteen now? Graduated?”

“Cat’s a junior,” Mercedes said. “And he’s seventeen.”

“So he’s doing well, then?” Corey asked.

“He doesn’t like you,” Mercedes said. “For good reason.” He closed his eyes again and settled his head back against Corey’s shoulder.

“He needs a stable upbringing,” Corey said. “Not a parent who goes from relationship to relationship.”

Mercedes’ lungs started to burn again but he managed to ignore it. He also managed to ignore the desire to get up and run over Corey with his Corvette. “Firstly, I’m not his parent,” Mercedes said. “I thought we were clear on that years ago.”

“The way you’ve been there for him, you might as well be,” Corey said.

Now Mercedes did sit up. He pulled away from Corey and extracted himself from the man’s arm. He turned completely in the sand, retracting his legs to sit cross legged a few feet from the body of the car, looking directly at Corey. “And secondly, I haven’t been in a meaningful relationship in seven years,” he said.

Corey stared at him with dark brown eyes and Mercedes couldn’t read the expression in the darkness. He didn’t appear to have a response to that.

Mercedes stood, towering over Corey. “I should go,” he said. “Dawn won’t be far.”

Corey stood too. “Yeah, I guess you should,” he said. “Be safe.”

“You and your task force will never put a hand on me,” Mercedes said. He stepped around Corey to open the driver’s door of his car. With one last look at the man, Mercedes dropped into the car and closed the door. He started the engine and rolled slowly up the beach, feathering the clutch in first gear to get as much traction as his rear wheel drive car could in the sand.

As Mercedes rolled towards the parking lot, he glanced in the rearview. Corey had only moved enough to put his back on the world while he faced the surf. Mercedes lit another cigarette as he pulled onto the pavement.