Page 3 of York

“I’m not pretty enough for you?” Dixon asked.

“Oh, go get your attention from the blue hairs. They’re setting up their lawn chairs.”

“Don’t gotta tell me twice,” Dixon said, already whipping off his shirt.

“Oh, to be young,” Eddie said, shaking his head.

“Don’t knock the old,” I said. “You just missed two half-naked old people trying to get it on in the pool.”

“I’m not sure if I’m happy or sad to have missed that,” Eddie admitted, but his smile quickly fell when he pulled open the knife drawer. “Where is my knife? What did you do to my knife?”

I shared a look with Velle, but we both shrugged.

“It better not be in the dishwash—oh, there you are!” he cooed at the damn knife. “Who used you to butter bread? Like you’re some basic piece of cutlery.”

“You wanna be left alone?” I asked, getting a chuckle from Velle as Eddie took the knife to the sink to scrub it.

“Did you know it’s not supposed to go in the dishwasher?” Velle whispered after moving closer.

“No fucking idea.”

“I’ve put it in there at least a dozen times,” he admitted with a wince. “I feel like I need to buy him a new one now.”

“Fuck… fuck… fuck you, Benny,” Mackie, the blue and gold macaw, grumbled from inside his cage.

“Nice to see you too, Mackie,” Eddie said. “Any reason he’s locked up?”

“Dixon was vacuuming,” I said. The bird hated three things in life: when someone was eating food and didn’t give him some, hats on people’s heads, and the damn vacuum cleaner.

“Did the mean man lock you up so he could use the devil machine?” Eddie cooed as he walked over to open the cage and pass the parrot a slice of zucchini. It wasn’t his favorite, but seeing no other offerings, he took it. “I’ll make you up a nice chop,” he promised. “And the tortoise, if he hasn’t had dinner yet.”

“Saw the kids throwing flowers in to him, but I haven’t gotten to that yet,” Velle said. “Everything alright with you?” he asked.

“Don’t need to shrink my head,” Eddie said, waving him off. “Just had some… life stuff.”

Velle and I shared another look, but we were both too glad to have him back to press the issue and piss him off.

“Well, glad to have you back. And not just because I missed the food,” Velle said as he grabbed a soda out of the fridge. “I’ll get it,” he said when the doorbell chimed. “Probably Dixon asking for some body oil or something.”

But when I glanced out, I noticed a beater parked in the driveway—compact, blue, dinged up all over, the hood bent slightly inward like something heavy had dropped down on it.

“Hey, can I help you?” Velle asked, but his body and the door were blocking whoever he was talking to from view.

“Hey, sorry to bother you. I’m just… looking for someone. I was hoping I maybe finally found the right place.”

It was a woman’s voice—all soft and sweet with a hint of huskiness. Something tugged at the edge of my memory, but it was gone before I could grab hold of it.

“Sure. We got people here. Who are you looking for?”

As he asked, I saw something move inside the backseat of the car. No. Not something. Someone. Someone small. Tossing something up in the air. A stuffed animal, maybe?

“Well, here’s the thing,” the woman said, and there was that tug again. Almost like familiarity. Like I’d heard that voice before. “I don’t think I even know his real name.”

“Okay. What name do you have?”

“York.”

York.