Brian discovered a sensible way to spend extra time with Hailey. Wednesdays and Fridays he would drive her to the restaurant before heading to UNC.
After he met with Kaya and worked on his dissertation, he and Hailey would eat lunch together, the same as always. Then he’d linger until Hailey had the café’s evening routine in place. Brian would then drive them both home to the Arts Consortium. Suddenly, using two cars when they were both going to Asheville seemed wasteful.
In his car Friday morning, Hailey smelled like maple syrup and blueberries. Brian kept swallowing, his mouth full of sweet-tinged liquid. He couldn’t tell if Hailey noticed that, or his happiness. She apologized for smelling more like sticky sugar than soap. “In another few minutes, I’ll be back to brewing sauces, mixing marinades, and simmering flavor reductions.”
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For lunch that day they ate soft, peppery tacos, and Brian told Hailey that Angelina had found her calling in life as benefactress to the Arts Consortium. The students attended her business course more faithfully than any other.
The carpenters had finished the cabins and once she met with the UNC planning committee and gathered the necessary city permits, Angelina intended to build classrooms and dormitories in her nearby field. The big question was how many carpenters would stay through the winter. The green cards were taken care of, but Trevor said to count out Lloyd and Andrew. Royce, who it turned out had a degree in architecture and had already drawn blueprints for eco-friendly structures, kept asking how cold the winters were.
“What about Jacob?” Hailey asked. “The weed he grows is total joy.”
“He’ll stay, I think. Angelina has given him a center space for a rock and flower garden. And Zanz and Earle love the band. As well as an Asheville woman each.”
Brian’s words sounded coarse, he thought, and left him uneasy. Quickly, he confided, “My fear is mainly that Trevor will take off.”
Hailey bit into a taco, and juice trickled down her chin. Brian studied his plate as she wiped her mouth with a woven napkin. “Trevor’s gonna stay, don’t worry. He loves you too much. But he dreams about Vivi in Kingston and is convinced that Don Rufus set that ‘duppy’ on him to keep him away.”
Brian rested his head against the wall as Hailey double checked the evening staff.
In the car, with the sun streaming through the windshield, Brian pretended to ignore how Hailey’s long warm legs stretched parallel to his. They pulled into the lodge alongside a police car.
Chief Everett Clay eased out of his vehicle and he, Hailey, and Brian saw Carla, who had gained weight while living with Marc Swift, running naked from his cabin to Angelina’s. She cried and screamed and Angelina rushed out, covering her with a tablecloth and leading her inside.
They listened as Angelina called for Polly, who ministered to all the broken-hearted girls.
The Chief, Brian, and Hailey lounged on Angelina’s porch when Trevor sauntered over, smoking a spliff. “Honor der, Chief Babble-a-Babylon. Brian? Hailey? Wa’ppun?”
“No smoking, sport.” Chief Clay said. “Where’s Angelina?”
“Ya nuh seen it?” Trevor asked the Chief. “Big bangarang. Marc bun Carla, workin’ Irene.”
“Trevor,” Brian said. “Talk straight.”
“Marc finished filming Carla and started filming Irene. He makes videos of the girls he sleeps with. I warned Carla,” Trevor said. “But she didn’t listen. So she was waiting in his bed when Marc and Irene got there.”
The Police Chief snorted. “Y’all can fix this later. See if you can find Angelina, so I don’t end up calling her after driving all the way out here.”
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