Star Gods, стр. 9
I head to the next alleyway exit, round back, and peer through the large window making sure no one will recognize me before walking through the front door of the Appleton Bakery. The smell of baked bread is stronger, enticing, making me breathe it in deeply. The tables are filled with customers, and the line at the counter blocks my view of the display cases I know are filled with breads, rolls, buns, muffins, pies and cookies.
Mr. Appleton pokes his head up from behind the display case and smiles—his already graying hair speckled with flour. “Zeke, what a pleasant surprise.” He sets the last loaf from his tray into the case, sliding the door closed and joins me—clasping a flour-covered hand onto my shoulder. “It’s good to see you, boy.”
“It’s good to see you too, Mr. Appleton.”
“How many times have I told you to call me Cesar?”
“Many times.”
“How about trying it now?”
“It’s good to see you too, Cesar.”
“That’s better. How’re you feeling, Zeke?”
I grimace. Telling the truth is probably best. “Honestly, I’m a little tired. I thought I could take a walk and get some fresh air.”
“And you went further then you should have.” Cesar leads me into the back and pulls out a chair at the scarred kitchen table. “Does Ashe know you’re out and about today?”
I shake my head, pain momentarily streaks through, and I wince before I can stop it. Maybe I don’t have to fake a concussion—I think I have one.
“Zeke, you’re overdoing it.”
I place my head into my hands. “I honestly thought I was fine. I needed some fresh air, and I was going to stop at the garage, but the smell of bread was much more enticing.”
He pats me on the shoulder. “I’m going to put some sandwiches together and give Ashe a call, okay?”
“Yeah, okay. Thanks Mr…Cesar.”
I can hear Gretchen, one of his assistants, speaking to someone out in the store while I watch him place ham slices, cheese and pickles onto his homemade bread, layering it thick. My mouth waters in anticipation. He cuts one of the sandwiches in half, sets it on a plate, and places it in front of me. He smiles and then goes to his wall phone, punching in a number.
“Hi Ashe, this is Cesar.”
I take a huge bite of my sandwich. For some reason the possibility of Ashe being angry isn’t important anymore.
“Yes, I’m fine, Ashe, thanks for asking. The reason I called is Zeke is here.” Cesar nods. “He’s fine. He decided to take a walk and tired himself out. I have him sitting in the back with me. I can take him home in a few minutes.” He listens, tapping a finger on the wall. “Ashe, it’s really no problem.” He turns and looks at me. “Okay, see you in a few.” He places the phone back onto its base and joins me at the table. “That brother of yours is stubborn.”
I wipe my mouth and nod in agreement. “Is he angry?”
“I’d say more concerned than anything else.”
I know by the way that he’s looking at me, he has more to say.
“You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you, Zeke?”
“Yes, I know.”
“You also know that your father is my best friend. He’d watch over my Claire if anything happened to me.”
I set my arms onto the table and clasp my hands together. “Yes, he would. We all would.”
“I want you to be honest with me, Zeke. Were you looking for the individuals who attacked you?”
So, that’s what this is about. I grin in relief. “No, I wasn’t. I was really just going for a walk.”
“You better be telling the truth,” Ashe says, coming in from the front of the store. He places his hand on my shoulder and gives me a squeeze. I can smell gasoline and motor oil making me instantly queasy until I feel a second of warmth, and my headache instantly eases.
“Why don’t you have a seat, Ashe, I have a sandwich for you.”
“Thanks, Cesar, can I get it to go? I want to get Zeke home.”
“Sure, it’ll only take a second.”
“You know, you could just eat it here…”
“I’ll take you home,” Ashe interrupts with an underlying snap in his tone.
Oh, he’s not angry. He’s downright pissed.
“I can get myself home, Ashe,” I say, pushing my chair back, and my brother clamps my shoulder hard, his eyes saying his words for him.
Cesar hands off a stuffed bag full of goodies to my brother. “If you need anything, anything at all, you call me.”
“Of course, thanks again, Cesar. C’mon, Zeke, let’s go home.”
“You want to tell me why you’re pissed at me?” I plop onto the couch and put my feet on the coffee table.
Ashe sits in the recliner, leaning forward with his forearms on his thighs. “Didn’t I leave you a note of what you should and shouldn’t be doing?”
“You healed me, remember?”
“Yeah, I remember. Do you want someone to see you up and walking around like nothing happened?”
“Um, no.”
“And you’re exhausted.”
I can’t exactly argue that. “Yeah, okay, I’m tired. I thought I’d be fine going for a walk.”
“And what else aren’t you telling me, Zeke?”
“What the heck would I be keeping from you?” I spout back.
“I don’t know. Why don’t you fill in the blanks?”
“I’ve already told you, I went for a…”
“Walk, yeah, I get it.” Ashe sits back and scrubs his face with both hands, looking tired. “Next time, just do what you’re told.” He drops his hands, closing his eyes; something he rarely does.
I watch him a few minutes before quietly going to my room and stand in front of my window to stare out into our yard. “What am I supposed to do now?” I sigh, grabbing the windowsill and