Cherry Pop (Mercury Rising Book 3) (3 page)

“Her mom?” Ben asked, curious how that had played out.

“We were never married. She took off for Asheville not long after she had Melody, so I have custody and we live with my folks. I don’t have much time for a personal life. Which is why I cut to the chase, as you may have noticed.”

“I did,” Ben said. “I found it refreshing.”

“Good. I’m also kind of new at this.” He pointed back and forth between them and grinned. “Like
really
new. But I can tell there’s nothing here, is there?” He glanced behind Ben. “Gee, I wonder why?”

“What are you two talking about?” Tripp asked. He grabbed Luke’s abandoned chair, turned it around, and swung his leg over to straddle it backwards. He rested his arms along the back of the chair as he looked between them.

Ben stared at Tripp’s tattooed left arm. Starting at his wrist, tall black pine trees stretched up his forearm almost to his elbow, with a background that looked like sunset behind them, black birds flying out of the trees. It was starkly beautiful. Captain America’s brightly colored shield protected his elbow. The spaces not covered by those tattoos had abstract tribal designs, some black, some brightly colored, and there was a mystery tattoo on his biceps just peeking out under his sleeve as well.

“Hooking up,” Carver answered Tripp, jerking Ben out of his obsession with Tripp’s tattoos. Carver picked up another wing and started eating it. He nodded at the basket, offering Ben some of his food, as if they were on a date.

“No thanks,” Ben said.

Tripp was frowning. “Well, I’ve been thinking about that,” he said, “and I don’t think it’s a good idea.”

“No?” Carver said in between bites. “Why not?”

Yeah
, Ben wondered.
Why not?

“Well,” Tripp said. “I like Ben.” He grabbed one of Carver’s wings. “He likes to do the same stuff I do. I haven’t had a chance to show him all the good bike trails. And there’s the Spartan Race at Fort Bragg in a couple of weeks. Who am I going to do that with if not you guys?”

“I’m doing the Spartan Race?” Ben asked, not really following. “And you should probably have asked me about it before now. Just saying.”

“If you two hook up, I’ll never get to see you,” Tripp continued, ignoring Ben’s question. “You’re both guys. Sex always trumps. So let’s say I want to go to the Spartan Race, but Carver’s got an itch and he gives you a booty call. Then you’re going to Carver’s and I’m stuck with no partners for the race. See?” He proceeded to eat the wing, looking very happy with his logic.

“Because I’m clearly the sort of guy who answers booty calls,” Ben said, nodding. “Yes, I see your point.” He got a stupid thrill from Tripp’s desire to see him again, as if he was back in high school and the coolest kid had called his name while picking teams.

“Uh huh,” Carver said skeptically. “The Spartan Race? Really? Don’t you think it’s a little too early in the relationship for the Spartan Race? Maybe you ought to build up to that. A little mountain biking or hiking, some motocross or ATVs over near Sanford, and then he can take on the Spartan Race. But too much too soon will kill the love, Tripp.”

“Too much of what?” Ben asked warily, put on guard by Carver’s tone. He determinedly ignored Carver’s mention of love and relationships.

“Fire, water, mud, barbed wire, you name it,” Carver said. “Anything goes in the Spartan Race. And those military boys over there live for it. That race will kick your ass.”

Ben felt the thrill of anticipation. “No shit?” he said with a grin at Tripp, who grinned right back.

“No shit,” he said. “You in?”

“Oh, hell yeah,” Ben said eagerly.

“Oh God,” Carver groaned. “Another one. You didn’t mention you had a death wish when you were telling me about yourself.”

“‘Live like you were dying’,” Ben said, quoting one of the only country songs he knew.

“I can’t date a guy who takes risks like that,” Carver said with a smile. “Tripp, your new buddy is safe from me.”

“Great,” Ben teased, rolling his eyes. “Thanks, Tripp. The only piece of ass within five hundred miles and you’ve scared him off.”

“You just let old Tripp take care of you,” he said. “I did you a huge favor. Besides, Carver’s on my Spartan Race team too. It’ll be me, you, him, and Luke.”

Just then, a loud bang behind him made Ben turn around. The table full of girls was laughing at Luke, who had just tumbled backwards in his chair. Two of them got up to help him off the floor. Luke seemed like the sort of guy whose bumbling made him charming to women.

“Come on,” Tripp said with a sigh. “Time to take Luke home. Fixing you two up was his idea.”

“Why you listen to him, I don’t know,” Carver said. He took the last sip of his beer and set it down as he stood up. “I’ve got to go anyway. Mom’s watching Melody, but she had my sister’s kids all day too, and I hate to take advantage.” He stuck out his hand and shook Ben’s. “Nice to meet you, Ben. Sorry it didn’t work out.”

“Just because I’m not allowed to answer your booty calls doesn’t mean we can’t be friends,” Ben said solemnly. “Don’t be a stranger.” Carver laughed as he waved and walked off.

“Sorry,” Tripp said quietly. “If you really like him, I can talk to him again.”

“I told you, no dating,” Ben said firmly. “Do not do that to me again. Swear, or no Spartan Race.”

“I swear,” Tripp said, his hand over his heart. “On my honor.”

Luke was laughing as he tried to stand with the help of the two girls. “Come on,” Ben said. “Let’s get Luke and go home.”

“Biking tomorrow?” Tripp said a few minutes later as they shoved a drunk, protesting Luke into the backseat of Tripp’s big truck. Luke had still managed to get the phone numbers of the two girls who’d picked him up off the floor.

“It’ll have to be after six,” Ben said.

“Whenever.” Tripp carefully closed the door, making sure Luke’s feet were out of the way. “I’ll pick you up. Got a great ride to show you.”

“All right,” Ben said, climbing into the truck.

Tripp closed his door before walking around the front to the driver’s side. As Ben watched him, he wondered what exactly had happened tonight. He’d been dragged out to get set-up, and instead he was going out biking with Tripp and had somehow agreed to be on Tripp’s team for what sounded like a grueling mud run.

The whole failed set-up with Carver should have bothered him more. Carver represented what Ben’d always wanted, what he’d been mourning the loss of for the last two years: a nice guy, kids, the whole package. So why hadn’t he jumped at the chance?

T
ripp looked around for Ben
. When they were biking the day before, he’d invited Ben to a picnic at the beach for some waterskiing. He thought Ben might like meeting some more new people, and Tripp’s family and friends were pretty laid back. And his dad and Luke were here, so Ben already knew some people and shouldn’t feel awkward. Tripp didn’t want to seem like a stalker since this would be the third day in a row they’d seen each other, but you had to take advantage of skiing opportunities when they presented themselves this late in the season.

Ben was a little strange on the no-dating thing. He was nice and funny and a great-looking guy, so Tripp guessed he got hit on a lot. That probably got old for him, so no wonder he was pretty upfront about it.

Tripp mentally shrugged.
Whatever.
God knew dating was hell whether you were doing girls or guys. That was why when Tripp hooked up, which was rarely, he liked to keep it casual. A night or two, no promises, a good time had by all. The end. It had worked for him so far. He hadn’t had a girl want to call herself his girlfriend since Katie Reed in high school. He’d really sucked at the whole relationship thing, and she’d rightly dumped his ass and promptly married Kevin Stigler right after graduation.
Good luck to them
, he thought with relief. He supposed at some point he’d get married and make two point five kids or whatever, but there was no rush.

It was a good two hours from Mercury to Murrells Inlet, South Carolina, but still, Ben should have been there at least fifteen minutes ago. And that was if he stopped for coffee or to take a piss along the way. Tripp pulled out his phone and called him.

“I’m almost there,” Ben said instead of hello. “Getting past Myrtle Beach was a nightmare.” He sounded a little frazzled.

“Sorry,” Tripp said, wincing. “I should have told you to take 701 instead.”

“Thanks,” Ben said, and Tripp couldn’t miss the sarcasm in his voice. “That would have been good information to have.”

“We have cold beer,” Tripp said in way of apology. “And burgers hot off the grill. And the water is perfect for skiing.”

“Nice save,” Ben said, laughing. “I’m on 17. Where do I turn?”

“Cherry Lane,” Tripp said. “We’re set up at the end, on the water. The boat’s gassed up and we’re waiting on you.”

“Have my burger ready,” Ben said. “Ketchup and mustard.”

“Chili and slaw?” Tripp asked, already walking over to the grill manned by Luke. He was cooking a new batch of burgers.

“Absolutely not,” Ben said firmly. “I’m not that gone yet.” He hung up before Tripp stopped laughing.

About five minutes later, Tripp wasn’t surprised to see Ben drive up in a new model hybrid. It seemed like the sort of car a conservative computer programmer would drive. Efficient and environmentally friendly, but also a little boring. On the other hand, the car was bright blue, not your typical white, black, or red.

Tripp found most people pretty easy to figure out, but Ben was a bit of a puzzle. He seemed funny and laid back, but at the same time he was also a little fussy and uptight. Tripp got the feeling Ben had an internal war going on between the two sides. Tripp found anyone with that sort of personality conflict interesting. Maybe because he often found the two sides of his own personality at war with each other. On the outside he was good old fun-loving, reliable Tripp. But inside he worried about a lot of stuff, liked to think things through. People wanted to believe they knew him, but they didn’t, not really. Maybe his mom and dad and Luke, but that was all. It seemed between work and knowing just about every living soul in Mercury his whole life, he had so many people up in his business, it had become a necessity to hold something back. Ben seemed the same way.

“Next time,” Ben said when he walked up, as if they were in the middle of a conversation, “I’m going to take the time to research my route. Who knew they had traffic in North Carolina?”

“People who live in North Carolina,” Tripp answered, as if Ben had asked a genuine question.

“Touché,” Ben said. “Burger?”

“Over here,” Tripp said, leading him to the grill. He liked the way Ben didn’t dance around or make small talk. He shot straight to the heart of it. “Beer?” he asked, veering toward the cooler.

“I don’t think so,” Ben said. “Not if I’m going skiing, and I have to drive back tonight. I’m not much of a drinker anyway.”

“Me either,” Tripp told him, glad he wouldn’t have to worry about a drunk ski buddy. Been there, done that—too many times. “Hey Luke,” he said. “Ben needs a burger.”

Tripp wondered what Ben made of Luke. His oldest friend wore his Bassmaster cap and another NASCAR Dale Junior T-shirt. He was an unrepentant Good Old Boy.

Luke was the only one left by the grill. Everyone else was at the boats, and Tripp’s cousin Junior had already left the dock since he had to work third shift at the plant tonight. “Hey,” Luke greeted Ben. He pointed to a covered platter. “Take one. I’m shutting the grill down and packing ’em up to take on the boat.”

Ben looked around and grabbed a bun from a pack before getting a burger and efficiently searching for and using the condiments without asking for help. “Where’s Carver?” Ben asked.

Tripp immediately got annoyed. “He had things to do today,” he said shortly. Fact was, he hadn’t invited Carver, not once he knew Ben was coming. “Hey, how about a Cheerwine?” Tripp didn’t give Ben a chance to answer before he reached into the cooler and pulled out a plastic bottle.

“Isn’t that beer?” Ben asked. Tripp froze and then turned back to stare at Ben in disbelief. He saw Luke doing the same.

“Ain’t you ever had Cheerwine?” Luke asked incredulously. “Where’re you from?”

“Los Angeles,” Ben said.

Luke blew out a raspberry. “Well, no wonder,” he muttered. “Cheerwine is cherry cola, made in North Carolina,” he lectured. “Can’t get it any place else but the Carolinas and maybe Virginia. It’s about all we drink besides Mountain Dew.”

“Seriously?” Ben asked. “I just assumed it was beer or some kind of wine. Because of the name.” He took a bite of his burger as he suspiciously eyed the bottle Tripp held out.

“Nope,” Tripp said, shaking the bottle a little to get Ben to take it. “Just cherry cola.”

“Like Cherry Coke?” Ben asked, finally taking the bottle.

“Not really,” Tripp said. “If I go someplace without Cheerwine, I usually order a Dr. Pepper or Mr. Pibb. That’s closest. But Cheerwine is better.”

Ben made a face. “I’m not much of a Dr. Pepper fan.”

“Quit fussin’ and try it,” Luke said impatiently. “If you don’t want it, I’ll drink it.”

“You barely even know me,” Ben said in shock, “and you want to share my drink?”

“Hell no,” Luke said in disgust. “But I ain’t gonna waste Cheerwine.” Tripp laughed as Ben grinned and opened the bottle.

“Are they paying you guys for this kind of advertising?” he asked. “Endorsed by Tripp and Luke,” he said, sounding like a TV announcer.

“Drink,” Luke said. “We got to go.”

Ben hesitated just a moment before he raised the bottle and took a big gulp. Then another. He lowered the bottle and stared at it for a second. “Damn,” he said. “That’s pretty good.”

Luke grinned. “Told ya.” He dumped some sand into the grill, covering the coals. “Help Tripp pack up the cooler while I wrap these burgers. That water isn’t going to ski itself.”

“Yes, sir,” Ben said, shoving another big bite of burger into his mouth. He grabbed the bag of buns and, after Tripp opened the lid, tossed it into the cooler. Tripp placed the ketchup and the mustard inside, next to the chili and slaw. He flipped the lid closed.

“Well, that was easy,” Ben said.

“We don’t cater parties,” Tripp said. “So we tend to keep it simple.”

“Works for me,” Ben said.

They walked down to the dock, and Tripp surreptitiously looked Ben over. He was dressed in bright yellow and blue board shorts and a white Oakley T-shirt with a white Turnstiles baseball cap and Oakley shades. The sunglasses looked pretty pricey. He also wore some sort of funky water shoes that made him look kind of ridiculous. Well, he hadn’t been around long. Tripp would take him shopping for some Reefs so he’d fit in more. Overall, he looked really natural in the relaxed clothes, so different from what he’d worn to the bar. He looked more approachable. Still good-looking, but in a less intimidating way.

“Do I pass inspection?” Ben asked without looking at him.

Tripp was pulled out of his own thoughts and blushed at being caught checking Ben out, which was all kinds of weird. “Yep,” Tripp said, covering his embarrassment. “No one should comment on the clothes. They may try to steal your sunglasses, though, ’cause they are pretty awesome.”

“Duly noted,” Ben said. “I have several pairs, so I won’t file a report if the unthinkable happens.”

“I appreciate it,” Tripp said, fighting a smile. “Don’t want to have to bail anybody out on a holiday again. Real pain in the ass.”

“I don’t even want to know,” Ben said.

“Just kidding,” Tripp said. “My mom’s cousin is the sheriff, so we usually get a free pass.” Ben smiled in the direction of the boats tied up to the dock and Tripp looked over to see everyone watching them approach. “They’re a little nosy,” Tripp said.

“Tripp,” his mama called from the boat at the end of the dock. “You get on down here on this one with me and your daddy. You and your new friend. And Luke too.”

“Oh God,” Tripp said with a pained moan. “That’s my mother. Don’t pay any mind to anything she says. She’s crazy as a loon.”

“Great,” Ben muttered. “I’m good with moms.” He didn’t sound as confident as the words implied.

“My mama likes everyone,” Tripp said. “Don’t worry.” His mother climbed out of the boat and waved at them like a fool. They were only ten feet away.

“That’s your
mother
?” Ben asked incredulously. “She can’t be a day over thirty-five.”

“Forty-two,” Tripp said with a sigh. “I thought you being gay meant you wouldn’t notice my mom.”

He loved his mom, but he sure wished she didn’t look like Marilyn Monroe. He’d had to suffer the indignity of his friends panting after her his whole life. And her infamous on-again-off-again relationship with his dad didn’t help. Since their divorce, his dad had had two other failed marriages, and his mother had been the other woman during both.

“How can I not notice her?” Ben asked. “We’re going in the same boat.”

“Hi there,” she said, holding out her hand to shake Ben’s. “I’m Tripp’s mama, Loreene Lanier.”

“Hello,” Ben said, shaking her hand. He looked a little awestruck and Tripp’s mom preened, giving him a flirtatious little grin.

“He’s gay, Loreene,” his dad called from the boat. “Remember? That won’t work on him.”

Her eyes went wide and she snatched her hand back. “Oh, that is too bad,” she said in sympathy. “Not many of those around here. It’s going to get lonely.”

Ben seemed at a loss for words, but she was clearly waiting for some kind of answer. When the silence grew uncomfortable, Ben said, “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”

“Well, I’ll pray for you,” she said. “Sure is a good thing you met Tripp.” After that cryptic comment, she turned around and climbed into the boat in her short shorts, nearly falling out of her bikini top as his dad helped her up with a laugh.

“God almighty,” Luke whispered behind them. Tripp turned and shoved him with a frown. “If she weren’t your mama, boy,” Luke said, shaking his head.

“Wow,” Ben said. “That wasn’t awkward at all.”

“It never is,” Luke said. Tripp had no idea what he meant by that, but it seemed to work for Ben, who climbed onto the boat after her.