He tells himself the reason is that he doesn't want her seeing him all corpsey in good light. Crion: At some point here, he reflexively pops the Blush. Crion: What the fuck is a wakeboard even. He'll resist the urge to watch her go get that. Quaker: "Aaahhhh." She sucks air through her teeth. "I just wanted to see if I could sign up for some lessons." I'm new to town - well, returning from the." She doesn't care, Cav. Quaker: "Oh, hi." Her eyes dart to the open door behind him. When she stands up, he can get a better look at her: deeply tanned, thin and sun-bleached blonde hair, and a sea-green button-down retail uniform. Quaker: The only person in the store is behind the counter, crouching down and shuffling things between cabinets. But he's smiling and is willing to spend money. All the paraphernalia of the lifestyle abounds, hanging off shelves and racks: wetsuits, wax, leashes, maintenance tools. The main space in the shop is occupied by dozens of surfboards standing up in racks. Quaker: If you peer in, it's like looking into a fiberglass forest of every height and color. Crion: The night's still alive around them, one imagines, so he won't seem odd or out-of-place for stepping up to it. Quaker: Thalia Surf Shop is the only storefront with lights on, on this block. He's got the phone on silent - the biggest concession he can make for himself, away from his work.
Crion: Cav's got his wallet and his phone. The pavement here is half-covered in sand people have tracked up, up the short wooden staircases, and across the boardwalk butting against the flat expanse of beach. The shops have all locked up, except for a few by the beach.
#Well here we go again you want your freedom full
Quaker: It's late enough that the families have gone home, and early enough that the young people investing the bars and restaurants downtown are still around, in full bloom. Crion: Cav will lock up and wander down to the beach. Crion: than most of the shirts he usually finds himself in. Crion: When Cavanaugh comes back downstairs in the empty house, he's wearing - what are they called now, A-necks? The tank-top undershirts that used to have an unfortunate name, Cav's wearing one of those under an unbuttoned red, green and 's not a Hawaiian shirt, Cav wouldn't wear one of those, and it's cut to button up if you want it to, but it has a more colorful, noisier design Carolina Torres was a very long time ago.
Crion: He was mostly trying to impress Carolina Torres, who was. Crion: Cav hasn't been surfing since he was a teenager, and he wasn't any good at it then. Crion: Cav remembers, instead, something that man Pete said.
He can't spend another minute in this house, not right now. He's already thrown out the empty pizza boxes cleaned up the ash in the bathrooms. Quaker: And when it gets quiet, it gets real quiet. Quaker: The part the realtors never emphasize about living in a secluded house in a canyon that sees little traffic, is that you're living in a secluded house in a canyon that sees little traffic. More classic rock coming up after these messages, on 100.3 The Sound, Southern California's Classic Rock station." Quaker: "That's Dreams, by Fleetwood Mac. RAW Paste Data Copied Quaker: Now here you go again, you say you want your freedom/ Well who am I to keep you down/ It's only right that you should/Play the way you feel it/ But listen carefully to the sound/Of your loneliness/ Like a heartbeat, drives you mad/ In the stillness of remembering what you had, and what you lost, and what you had, and what you lost.
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