Page 21 of Hurricane Love

Mac from next door was already up and watering his plumbago as he waved Wylie over. The man hardly slept and was something of their unofficial neighborhood watch. As a former army ranger, he also packed heat. He was chill though, once you got to know him, and he liked to gossip.

“Saw you come home pretty late last night. Have fun at your birthday party?” Mac asked with a conspiratorial grin.

“Sure did, until Fuckface MacPherson ruined it.” Everyone in Sunset Village knew about his mortal enemy, and they also hated Brian on his behalf. Or pretended to.

Mac shook his head. “She’s still seeing that nincompoop?”

“Yeah, but hopefully not for much longer.” Not if Wylie had his way.

“And I saw you had a fella with you?” Mac continued, his expression turning canny. Wylie couldn’t help the broad smile that stretched across his face.

“Yeah, his name’s Diego. We work together. I’m trying to date him, but he’s a little shy.”

“Eh, well, he’ll come around, I’m sure. You’re a good-looking lad.”

“Thanks, Mac.” Wylie held up his fist for a bump, which Mac returned. Living at the trailer park was like having a dozen hype men and women. Most of them thought Wylie was Nancy’s grandson, an assumption he didn’t bother to correct. “Listen, Mac, I’m going to bring out the pressure washer today. You need anything done around here?”

Mac looked thoughtful for a moment. “Around back, there’s some mildew on the siding. Give that a blast, but watch out for the lantana. I finally got it to take this spring.”

“Roger that.”

Wylie moved on along the peanut-shaped circle, saying hello and waving to the neighbors who were already up and about. Some of the trailers had decks with stairs, others had ramps for mobility. All of them had a little sitting area in the shade so the residents could hang around outside. In an hour or two they’d start congregating around the below-ground pool at the center of the park for water aerobics or else play a game of shuffleboard on the court nearby. After lunch they’d migrate to the air conditioned rec room for pinochle or cribbage during the heat of the day. They had karaoke and bingo and movie nights too. Nancy had a network of former students who helped out with entertainment and programming forvolunteer hours. Some folks had nurses or family members who came by for more advanced needs. It was an excellent way to live, and if Wylie were about fifty years older, it’d be his forever home.

As it was, Wylie maintained the pool and did lawn care and light repair work in exchange for free rent, but they sometimes had to hire out if the problem was too complex. There was a budget for that too, where everyone contributed to a pseudo HOA according to what they could afford. It helped spread the costs around, since all of them were living on fixed incomes and some had to rely on Social Security alone.

“Nancy,” Wylie called to her from the bottom of the stairs. She was sitting under her deck umbrella, still in her bathrobe, smoking a Newport cigarette while playing Candy Crush on her tablet. On her little side table was an ashtray and a half-finished cup of Folgers coffee with hazelnut creamer. Pretty soon, she’d go inside and get dressed for the day. Wylie had her entire morning routine memorized.

“Morning to you too,” she called back, still focused on her game. “Heard you had a threesome last night.”

Wylie cackled at that. The residents loved to gab, and the stories became more outrageous with each retelling. Wylie was often the subject of such scandalous tall tales. To be fair, some of the fights he’d had with his exes had been rather public, usually on the lawn in front of his trailer with colorful language and slamming doors. But that was before he self-actualized.

“I wish, but no, it was Hannah and my friend Diego from work. He gave us a ride home.”

Nancy glanced up, her readers slipping slightly down her nose. “Diego?” she said with emphasis, waggling her eyebrows a bit.

“Yes, that fine-ass man I’ve been trying to get with since he started working at the pit. I think I’m finally making some progress though.”

“Would I know him?”

“Diego Abarca? He went to Largo, but I don’t think he finished. He’s a few years older than me.”

“Abarca, Abarca,” she murmured, going through her mental catalog of students from her three decades of teaching at the local high school. “Didn’t he end up going to prison?” she asked with a squinty look.

“Yeah, he did, but he’s out now and working for his uncle. That’s Frank.”

“Huh,” she said. “I remember him. Skipped a lot of school. Nice kid, respectful. Made a lot of poor choices.”

Wylie nodded. “Sounds about right. It’s early times. We’re still feeling each other out. I might get invited to his family dinner tonight though.”

“Meeting the family already?” she asked with arched eyebrows. Nothing slipped by her.

“Yeah, but it’s cool. No pressure. Anyway, I let him borrow my car and bring it back to me later. Can I use yours to take Hannah home? Then I’ll get to pressure washing.”

“Why did Hannah stay over?”

“Oh my god, Nancy, listen to this…” Wylie then went on to detail the events of the night before, as best he could remember, including Diego’s demonstration of having his back and the homophobic insults Fuckface had hurled their way, then concluded with, “and he’s lucky I didn’t beat his ass.”

“She needs to get away from him.”