Staying Grounded [BXB]

Mutual Acquaintance

SEBASTIAN:

Four years I've lived in Yoverton, on and off, without knowing of Craig Lawton's existence. And when he declared his intention to have nothing more to do with me and mine, I'd been wholeheartedly behind him on that. But this week, it's like a day can no longer go by without our paths crossing in some minor yet maddening way. He suddenly seems to be every place I go beyond the farm.

Sunday, while walking through town to meet Brianna, I saw him pushing a baby stroller toward the play park. He didn't see me.

Monday, he drove past me at the bus stop. Then, half an hour later, my bus passed by him sat in his parked-up car outside the school.

Tuesday, Ashleigh and I visited the pool for a swim, and he was stood alone by his car in the leisure centre parking lot. Appearing agitated, I got the impression he was waiting on someone he no longer expected to show. Thankfully, Ashleigh missed him. He pointedly looked the other way.

Wednesday, I didn't venture out past my own land. But even so, Ashleigh brought Steph home with her, and the pair sat through dinner debating 'Craig V's Alex' like prize bulls up for stud, successfully ruining my appetite.

Yesterday, he was out with the stroller again, its small occupant kicking up an almighty fuss outside of the coffee shop. Cue my detour across the road. Then, last night, Judy randomly felt the need to ask after him, kick-starting Ashleigh off on another long-winded Craig review. The girl is incapable of holding a grudge, and their discussion rapidly spiralled into delusional territory. Cue my exit from the room.

The supermarket is the location for today's encounter, and where else would it be but the alcohol aisle as I'm picking up a bottle of red for Judy's bolognese. However, this time, we quite literally bump into each other, a collision of trolleys, meaning neither of us is given the luxury of a smooth escape. I've actually started in on an apology before I realise who I'm giving it to.

"Oh, come. On!" Craig cuts me off, glaring. He's wearing the jacket I first found him in, my mend of it a barely visible scar, and he has a bottle of rose wine in one hand and a white in his other. "Are you for real?"

The little boy sat in the trolley seat gurgles brightly, seeming tickled rather than unsettled by the clash, and only a complete monster could hold off from grinning back at him. He looks to be no older than two, perhaps just starting to find his feet, and so much like Craig that my first thought is they're father and son. I figure, though, that'd be something Ashleigh couldn't have failed to mention. "Cute kid."

"Yeah." Craig maintains his glare. I'm genuinely beginning to wonder if sullen and brooding are the full extent of his expression capabilities.

My eyes then instinctively stray to the contents of his shopping cart, and I am not disappointed. Although, I think I'd have preferred to be. "Spirits, lager and wine." A humourless smirk contorts the grin on my face. "Your interpretation of a balanced diet, I suppose?"

"Ha, good one," he snipes back. "But, soz to unseat you from your high horse here, Bastian, this full shop is destined for tomorrow night's festivities." Blatant relish is taken from my unwitting blanch. "You know, Steph's big birthday blowout? Alex took the orders, and now I'm procuring the goods. This one, here," — the rose is held out at me — "is for Ashleigh, I believe."

A gleeful clap made by small, chubby hands seems to applaud Craig's point score against me. Schooling my expression is no small feat. But in all fairness, Ashleigh's made no secret of her plans for this weekend. Judy's given her the okay. And far be it from me to interfere in her business — she's made my place outside of it abundantly clear. "Didn't think you socialised with the schoolies anymore."

With the cocky air of someone well-seasoned in this role, he shrugs and turns his back on me, adding the two bottles of wine to his stockpile, cushioned in beside a pack of nappies. "Would be rude not to get an invite for services rendered."

"And ruder still for you to turn down an event involving alcohol, right?"

"Sure. Because I need an event to drink."

As he moves his trolley free of mine, I look past him along the far end of the aisle and put the full force of my will on the young cashier to card him. He's made little headway in his escape of me, though, before a call from behind has us bumping again, shoulder to shoulder this time.

"Well, this is unexpected!"

The haste with which Craig severs our contact is jarring. He visibly pales as we look around in unison to see a familiar tattooed figure strolling our way. And all that this cursed shopping trip lacks for me now is an appearance from my step-dad. Or that porter-prick from the bus.

"Lawton," Derek grins, closing in. "Davis."

I shouldn't mind his use of my last name; it injects an appropriate sense of distance between us, and it has been nearly a year now. Still, I get a traitorous pang in my chest every damn time. 

"Derek."

"Oh, and mini Lawton, too. You make for quite the adorable little family here, guys."

If I thought myself hugely agitated by that comment, it's nothing compared to Craig's reaction. White-knuckling the handlebar, he swerves with enough force to jolt his poor, unsuspecting brother off-balance and stalks away in the opposite direction without a further moment's hesitation.

"Oh dear," Derek says, sounding entirely amused by himself. "Did I interrupt something private?"

"Is there a reason for your interruption?" My eyes remain fixed on Craig's retreating back rather than acknowledge the good looking Asian bloke who has pulled up at Derek's side and slung a possessive arm around his waist.

No introductions are made. "I was intrigued."

"By what?" I'm so not in the mood for his japes. Interacting with him is hard enough when I'm prepared for it. "You should know by now, I bring you only disappointment."

"Untrue. You're a dark horse, Sebastian Davis, and I find you quite fascinating."Finally forced to meet Derek's teasing gaze as Craig passes out of sight without a backward glance, I snort. "Trust me, I've nothing even remotely fascinating going on with—"

"Oh, sure! You and Lawton make no sense; I'm not that much of a sap."

"Right."

"It's what, exactly, I can count you in on that I'm eager to make sense of."

Confusion brushes me for barely a beat. I'd managed to almost convince myself that the message I sent him in the heat of the moment last week somehow got lost in the aether, where it belongs. But any immediate thought I might have, now, to dismiss it as the error it was is swift to disappear beneath the brusque slam of a renewed concern. "Tinwell," I say.

And Derek's reply is an unwelcome reminder of just how well he understands my mind's workings. "Ah, you've heard, then?" He nods along with me. "His cards are marked, and it seems he's not as dumb as he'd have us believe. No one's seen hide nor hair of him for quite some time. Not even his friends. I'm staying vigilant, though, don't worry."

"So, Steph's party?"

"More than his life's worth. But I'll be there, just in case."

Tempting though it is for peace of mind, asking him to watch out for Ashleigh would be too much like a favour I'd owe him. So instead, I roll my trolley around, flashing his puzzled companion a stiff smile, and part with only one more word: "Good."

On this, at least, he can be trusted.

"Give my best to your lovely missus," he hollers after me. "And next time you see Lawton, tell him I'm not any kind of threat to him, would you?"

Neither one of those requests is due to him.