Pushing those thoughts down, he focused on the cool breeze and salt air, allowing them to fill his senses. I sure as hell have tried a lot of other places, so this is just one more to discover.
Evening had descended by the time he crossed the last mile of the bridge to Fisherman’s Island. Now, the long straight road ahead brought out the urge to let loose his desire for speed, but the sight of a patrol car sitting in the median kept him in check. The last thing he wanted was to be stopped. It was his experience that law enforcement looked on the outside of him and made certain assumptions. Having to call Zac and Jason to get him out of jail was not a great way to start his visit.
Passing a grocery store, the only major store he’d seen, he turned at the first traffic light he’d come to, seeing the sign pointing toward Baytown. He was careful to slow down to follow the speed that decreased as he neared. Giving in to the desire to take a look around before contacting Zac or Jason, even at night, he drove around the perimeter of the town, surprised that it only took him a few minutes to complete the task. Christ, did Zac really grow up in this tiny-ass town? And Jason decided this was the place to land?
He’d passed a pub on the main street, and a little liquid courage seemed like a good idea. Parking just down the street, he locked his bike, grabbed his helmet, and stepped inside Finn’s Pub. His shoulders immediately relaxed as his gaze scanned the interior. The pub looked as though it retained the original look and appeal of days gone by. A dartboard hung on the wall to the right and an old fireplace and sofa sat on the left. Old brickwork walls and wooden floors looked to be from the previous century. A polished wooden bar ran the length of the right side with tall, mismatched chairs. The left side of the bar held tables and booths.
It was a slow night, which worked for him as he walked to the end of the bar and took a seat. The music was loud, but voices could still be heard. Laughter, the sound of camaraderie, and the antics of the two men behind the bar, whose looks were so similar they must be related.
“Looks like you’re new around here,” one of the men said, his smile wide. “Well, you’ve come to the best fuckin’ bar on the Eastern Shore.”
Just then, the other man walked up and shoved the first one in the shoulder. “Aiden, shut the hell up. You know this is a family establishment.”
“Chill, Brogan! Look around, man. You see any kids in here?”
“Will the two of you stop arguing and get the man what he wants to drink? By the way, brothers dear, the books are finished, and I’m getting ready to head home to Gareth and little Finn.”
The quick verbal exchange had only taken a few seconds, but the man sitting at the bar felt his lips twitched upward, something that used to happen more often but now was rare. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Aiden and Brogan were brothers and the beautiful woman who’d taken command must be their sister. He could appreciate her beauty, but with the wedding band sparkling on her finger and the mention of a child, he simply nodded his appreciation and ordered a beer. Leaning against the back of the stool, he enjoyed his drink and continued to observe the easy camaraderie between the two barmen and the pub patrons.
He must’ve given off the vibe that he wasn’t there for conversation because other than checking to see if he wanted another drink, he was left to himself. Finally, he glanced at the old clock on the wall and knew he could not put off the real reason for him coming any longer.
Tossing money onto the bar, he offered a chin lift to the largest brother still slinging drinks and headed outside to his bike. By now, darkness had settled over the sleepy town, the street lamps casting gentle light on the quiet street. Pulling out his phone, he checked the GPS and knew he didn’t have far to go but didn’t want to leave his bike unattended. Even in a small town, trust was hard to come by.
It only took a moment to drive the three blocks back through town, turning at the corner where he saw Jason’s auto shop. And right next door was the lighted window of a small tattoo shop. Unsure if the door was unlocked, he was surprised when it opened easily. Walking inside, he spotted a familiar face even if Jason’s outward appearance was more like looking into a mirror than a Go Navy advertisement.
The man in front of him was wearing a tight T-shirt, faded jeans, and heavy boots. His long hair was pulled back in a ponytail and his face was covered in a shaggy beard. Jason Boswell. One of the few friends he’d made in the Navy and stayed in contact with. He waited as the uncertainty that crossed Jason’s face morphed into recognition.
Suddenly, Jason jerked and he gasped. “Joseph? Joseph Hernandez?”
2
Hearing his name coming from his friend’s lips, Joseph grinned and barely had time to lock his legs into place as Jason rushed forward to envelop him in a bear hug. They slapped each other’s backs before separating, Jason still shaking his head.
“Fuck, man,” Joseph laughed, his gaze locked on Jason’s long hair. “Look at you.”
“Me? Hell, you’re no fuckin’ Navy regulation, either.”
For a few seconds they simply stared, Jason’s expression still holding disbelief, and Joseph figured his own was much the same.
“The last time Zac tried to get you to move out here, you were hitchhiking somewhere in Texas,” Jason finally said.
Joseph nodded and hefted his shoulders. “I could say I was just in the neighborhood, but hell, while Virginia isn’t remote, the Eastern Shore sure as fuck is.”
“So, are you just passing over or really thinking about staying?”
“Got no plans at all. I was traveling my way east, working a few jobs, when I needed to stop over at the Veterans Hospital in Norfolk.” Joseph shrugged and ran his hand through the scruff of his beard.
“Are you okay?”
Jason’s voice was instantly full of concern, something rare in Joseph’s experience. And, he silently admitted, was nice. “Yeah, yeah. I got sick a few months ago and just never got over it. I figured if I went to a veterans’ hospital, then I could get treated. I looked at a map and realized how close I was to the Eastern Shore, so I figured it was time to check out what you and Zac have been talking about.”
Jason leaned around and flipped the lock on the door, turning off the ‘Open’ sign, and motioned toward several chairs in the corner near the front desk. Taking him up on his silent invitation, he sat while Jason grabbed two bottles of water from a small refrigerator.
Jason settled into a seat nearby and handed one of the bottles to him. “I gotta tell you, man, if you need anything, you only have to ask.”
Taking a sip of cold water, he nodded. “Thanks.” He leaned back and allowed his gaze to drift around the small shop. “I see your garage is next door. How’s business?”
Jason laughed. “When I first came out here, I had the idea that I’d open the garage, get enough people to work in it and run it, and then I’d do nothing but oversee the garage while mostly working in the tattoo shop. But damn, this town was so desperate for a garage that also had a tow truck, and I was constantly working just to keep up with the demand. I’ve got two other mechanics who work for me, and we’re busy all the time. It didn’t take long to discover that there was a lot more mechanic business than tattoo business. I’m only doing tattoos on the weekends. I’m busier during the summer when vacationers are around but definitely not enough for tattooing to be my full-time job.”