Ding Dong, Country Strong

They found the sedan exactly where Tomas had left it.

It sat crooked along Silver Spring Boulevard beneath a flickering streetlight.

Tomas stopped on the sidewalk.

“No way.”

Bentley jogged ahead and tried the handle.

Unlocked.

“Still here.”

He dropped into the driver’s seat and ducked beneath the steering wheel.

The ignition panel hung open. Several wires spilled from beneath the column.

Bentley found the two stripped ends and touched them together.

The engine turned over.

He looked back at Tomas.

“Well?”

“I guess we’re doing this.”

Tomas climbed into the back seat.

Vette remained on the sidewalk for another moment, studying him.

“You still need sunglasses.”

Before he could ask, she pulled a pair of mirrored aviators from her shorts and tossed them through the window.

Tomas caught them.

“Where did these come from?”

“Hank donated them.”

Bentley laughed.

“Very generous man.”

Tomas put them on.

They were slightly crooked, but the morning immediately became easier to look at.

Bentley pulled into traffic.

The windows remained down as they drove toward the beach. Warm salt air rushed through the sedan.

Tomas’s headache had faded to a dull pressure. The stretched feeling in his chest remained, but everything hurt less when Bentley and Vette were talking.

“You know the radio doesn’t work,” Vette said.

“Probably because somebody stole the car,” Tomas replied.

Bentley glanced in the mirror.

“You stole it?”

“Borrowed.”

“From who?”

“I don’t know.”

Bentley nodded appreciatively. “That’s advanced borrowing.”

Vette turned toward him. “How long are you planning to keep it?”

“I hadn’t thought that far.”

“That’s obvious.”

Bentley grinned and accelerated toward the ocean.

They kicked off their shoes and ran into the water.

The first wave struck Tomas above the knees.

Cold stole his breath.

Before he could retreat, Bentley tackled him.

They disappeared beneath the surf.

Tomas came up coughing and grabbed Bentley around the waist. Vette hit them both with a wall of water.

For several hours, nothing else existed.

They dove through waves. Wrestled in the shallows. Floated on their backs and watched gulls circle overhead.

Tomas forgot about Sheriff Rook.

He forgot about Kay moving the farm in the middle of the night.

He forgot about the Collector.

He didn’t forget Red.

But for a little while, missing him stopped being the only thing Tomas could feel.

When they finally collapsed onto the sand, the sun had begun its slow descent toward the Gulf.

Vette dropped onto her back.

“I’m thirsty.”

Bentley sat up.

“I’ll get something.”

He jogged toward the boardwalk.

Tomas watched the horizon burn orange.

“This place is unreal.”

“You should see it during the July festival,” Vette said.

“Better than this?”

“Louder.”

“That isn’t better.”

“It is when you’re sixteen.”

Bentley returned carrying a cardboard case.

Hard lemonade.

Tomas raised an eyebrow.

“Where did you get that?”

“Dirty Porpoise.”

“You walked in and bought alcohol?”

“Connections.”

“Illegal connections,” Vette corrected.

Bentley removed two bottles. He handed one to Vette and one to Tomas.

“Aren’t you drinking?” Tomas asked.

“I’m driving.”

“That’s unexpectedly responsible.”

Bentley opened a lemon soda for himself.

“I contain multitudes.”

Vette twisted the cap from Tomas’s bottle.

“One,” she said. “You collapsed this morning.”

“I’m fine.”

“You vomited on a public beach.”

“Lots of people do that.”

“Not before noon.”

Tomas took the bottle.

They sat together watching the sun sink toward the water.

The lemonade was sweeter than he expected.

Vette caught his expression.

“First drink?”

“No.”

She waited.

“Yes.”

Bentley raised his soda.

“To Tomas’s slow and inevitable corruption.”

Vette touched her bottle against his.

Tomas joined them.

“These are supposed to be the greatest years of our lives,” Vette said.

“That seems unlikely.”

“You worry too much.”

Tomas looked from one twin to the other.

Neither watched him like they expected something strange.

Neither knew who he was at school.

They hadn’t heard Bookbag Boy chanted through a gym. They didn’t know where Tomas sat during lunch or how often teachers blamed him when Bryce started something.

Here, Tomas could say something funny without everyone waiting for the joke to turn against him.

He could run into the ocean.

He could drink half a hard lemonade and pretend he knew what he was doing.

He could become the version of himself he had always suspected might exist if everyone else stopped telling him who he was.

Something inside him grew warm.

Not the car.

Not the sun.

Tomas.

The feeling lifted him until he believed he could float.

They climbed into the sedan after sunset.

Bentley reconnected the ignition wires.

The engine started.

As they cruised along the main strip, Pelican Point lit up around them.

Neon flickered above arcades and souvenir shops. Music spilled from open doors. Families crowded the sidewalks with melting ice cream cones. Teenagers leaned against the boardwalk rail, watching the tide.

Vette twisted around in the passenger seat.

“Tommy Boy, why doesn’t the radio work?”

“Don’t call me Tommy Boy.”

“Bentley does.”

“I don’t like Bentley.”

Bentley looked offended. “We had something special.”

“Vette earned the right.”

“How?” she asked.

“She pledged her love to me beneath a full blue moon.”

Vette nodded. “Sounds like me.”

Bentley glanced in the mirror.

“I was there. That never happened.”

“You were overcome with jealousy.”

Tomas leaned between the seats and kissed Bentley’s cheek.

Bentley jerked the wheel.

The tires struck the curb. A hubcap shot free and rolled across the street.

Bentley wrestled the car straight.

“Hey!”

Vette and Tomas dissolved into laughter.

Bentley looked in the mirror.

“You broke your car.”

“Not my car.”

“That is an excellent point.”

They watched the hubcap wobble to a stop behind them.

Bentley kept driving.

He parked near the boardwalk.

Crowds moved beneath the lights. Fried dough and salt water filled the air.

Bentley leaned against the rail and watched the pedestrians.

“You guys have any money?”

Tomas checked his pockets.

“A few dollars.”

Vette held up two singles.

Bentley nodded thoughtfully.

“We need more than that.”

“For what?” Tomas asked.

“To make tonight count.”

Bentley stepped into the middle of the boardwalk.

“Ladies and gentlemen!”

Pedestrians swerved around him.

He raised both arms like a carnival ringmaster.

“Welcome to beautiful Pelican Point. Thank you in advance for your generous donations to the performing arts.”

A few people slowed.

Bentley bowed and swept one hand toward Vette.

“Please welcome my assistant. The queen of Pelican Point. The incomparable—”

He stretched the pause.

“Corvetta!”

Vette entered the circle.

For one heartbeat, the boardwalk quieted.

Then the whistles began.

Teenage boys hooted. Someone wolf-whistled. A middle-aged man released a long, appreciative sound until his wife struck him on the arm.

Vette bowed.

Her smile appeared effortless.

Tomas stood close enough to see the truth.

Her eyes hardened.

The smile never changed.

She had learned how to turn unwanted attention into something useful.

Bentley addressed the growing crowd.

“My name is Bentley, and this is my sister, Corvetta. Our mother named us after the two cars she always wanted.”

He lowered his voice.

“Sadly, she never earned enough money to buy either one.”

The crowd laughed.

“But don’t feel sorry for us.”

Bentley leaned forward conspiratorially.

“If our mother had wanted a third child, she probably would’ve named him Ford Pinto.”

The boardwalk erupted.

More people gathered.

Phones appeared.

Bentley held up a red plastic cup.

“I am missing something important.”

He approached a woman near the front.

“Ma’am, may I borrow your jacket? I promise to return it mostly unharmed.”

The woman laughed and removed a light windbreaker.

Vette took it before Bentley could.

“Don’t frighten the donors.”

She flashed the woman a dazzling smile.

Bentley placed the cup on the boards and covered it with the jacket.

He spun in a circle.

“Alakazamboozle. Flippity-flop. Hocus slightly questionable pocus!”

He whipped away the jacket.

The cup remained.

The crowd groaned.

Bentley slapped his forehead.

“What did I forget?”

Vette pointed toward a little girl wearing a plastic tiara and holding a bubble wand.

“You forgot to ask the princess.”

Bentley gasped.

“Of course.”

He bowed before the girl.

“Your Highness, may I perform magic within your kingdom?”

She nodded eagerly.

Bentley returned to the cup and covered it again.

“A touch of your magic, please.”

The girl tapped the hidden cup with her wand.

Bentley spun, chanting louder.

Then he pulled away the jacket.

The cup had vanished.

The crowd gasped.

Applause followed.

Bentley froze.

“Wait.”

He searched the audience.

“It wasn’t magic. Someone stole the cup.”

He pointed toward a small boy wearing a pirate hat and carrying a plastic sword.

“You!”

The boy grinned.

“Captain Youngblood!”

The pirate charged into the circle.

Bentley stumbled backward.

“Who will save us?”

His gaze found Tomas beside the railing.

“There he is. The legendary swashbuckler—Tidewater Tommy!”

The crowd turned.

Tomas froze.

At school, that would have been the moment everything changed.

Someone would laugh.

Someone would remind everyone who he was.

Here, they waited for him to join.

Tomas jumped into the circle.

A parent handed him a plastic sword.

The little pirate attacked immediately.

Their swords clacked together.

The audience cheered.

Tomas staggered dramatically.

“Oh, no.”

Captain Youngblood struck again.

Tomas dropped to one knee.

“I’ve been defeated.”

The boy pounced and stabbed him repeatedly with the plastic sword.

His parents rushed forward, laughing, and carried him away.

Tomas sat up.

The crowd applauded him.

Not because he had failed.

Because he had made them happy.

Bentley and Vette juggled three red cups between them.

Bentley caught the final cup and bowed.

Vette removed a tiny bottle from her pocket. She took a careful mouthful while Bentley lit the end of a short performer’s torch.

Vette tilted her head back and blew.

Flame burst above the boardwalk.

The crowd gasped.

Bentley extinguished the torch.

“Thank you, ladies and gentlemen.”

Vette carried one cup through the audience.

Bills dropped inside. Coins clinked.

A man in a Hawaiian shirt handed her five dollars.

As Vette thanked him, her fingers brushed his wrist.

The watch disappeared.

She slipped it into her pocket and glanced at Tomas.

Then she winked.

The crowd dispersed.

Bentley gave a dollar each to the princess and pirate.

The children ran away grinning.

Tomas joined the twins.

“That was amazing.”

“You can perform,” Vette said.

“I didn’t know I could.”

Bentley shrugged. “Now you do.”

“I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“First time for us too.”

“No way.”

“Scout’s honor.”

“The closest you ever came to the scouts was stealing Suzie Tompkins’s cookies,” Vette said.

Bentley pointed toward the glowing carnival farther down the boardwalk.

“Speaking of Suzie, she works at Funland.”

Tomas grinned.

“Race you.”

They ran.

They spent the money on ride tickets.

The haunted house.

The Paratrooper.

A spinning ride that left Tomas gripping the safety bar while Bentley and Vette laughed beside him.

The midway glowed beneath strings of carnival lights. Music collided with the mechanical roar of rides and the crash of waves.

Tomas’s headache returned briefly after the third ride.

He sat on a bench and closed his eyes.

Vette offered him water.

“You going to pass out again?”

“No.”

“Puke?”

“Probably not.”

“That isn’t confidence.”

Tomas drank.

Within minutes, Bentley had him laughing again.

The ache receded beneath the noise and excitement.

Bentley disappeared near the basketball game.

When he returned, he flipped a folded bill through his fingers.

“People love confidence.”

“Where did you go?” Tomas asked.

“Bathroom.”

Vette snorted.

Ten minutes later, Vette vanished.

She returned chewing cotton candy she hadn’t purchased.

Bentley raised an eyebrow.

“Good crowd?”

“Tourists. Easy marks.”

Tomas looked between them.

“You two are unbelievable.”

“We provide a public service,” Bentley said.

“What service?”

“Teaching people to pay attention.”

They continued down the midway until they reached the High Striker.

Adults and children took turns swinging the sledgehammer, trying to ring the bell at the top of the tower.

Suzie Tompkins stood beside the game.

The moment she saw Bentley and Vette, her shoulders sagged.

“No.”

Bentley leaned against the railing.

“Good evening, Suzie.”

“Don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Whatever you’re about to do.”

Bentley pressed one hand against his chest. “I’m hurt.”

“Last time you were here, I almost got fired.”

“Technically, that was Vette.”

Vette waved. “Team effort.”

Suzie pointed the hammer at them.

“I mean it.”

Bentley raised both hands.

“We’re only watching.”

“That sentence has never been true.”

A sunburned man stepped forward and took the hammer.

Bentley turned toward the crowd.

“Ten dollars says he doesn’t ring it.”

The man looked back. “You’re on.”

He swung.

The marker climbed halfway up the tower and dropped.

Bentley collected ten dollars.

Soon people gathered.

Money changed hands.

Bentley won two more bets.

Then a large man pushed through the crowd.

Tattoos covered one arm—skulls, flames and barbed wire twisting over thick muscle. His black T-shirt strained across his shoulders.

He reminded Tomas of what Riker might become in ten years if no one ever told him no.

Bentley grinned.

“Hundred dollars says you don’t ring it.”

The man looked Bentley over.

“You have a hundred?”

Bentley lifted the cup of donations.

“I will after you pay me.”

The man smirked.

“You’re on.”

He took the hammer.

The crowd backed away.

The man swung with everything he had.

The hammer struck the edge of the plate and glanced sideways.

The marker barely moved.

Laughter broke around him.

His face darkened.

“That thing’s rigged.”

Suzie held up both hands. “You missed the plate.”

Bentley extended his palm.

“Pay up.”

The man stepped closer.

“You going to make me?”

“I can ring it,” Tomas said.

The crowd turned.

Bentley looked genuinely surprised.

Vette stepped beside Tomas.

“He’s a farm boy.”

The tattooed man laughed.

“Two hundred says he can’t.”

Tomas looked at the tower.

Then the hammer.

He had spent years splitting wood. Driving fence posts. Swinging tools until his shoulders burned.

Those things had never mattered at school.

Here, they might.

“You have two hundred?” Tomas asked.

The crowd reacted.

The man pulled several folded bills from his wallet.

“Do you?”

Bentley started to answer.

Tomas stopped him.

“No.”

The man laughed.

Tomas pointed toward the money already in Bentley’s cup.

“But you can take what we have if I lose.”

Bentley stared at him.

Then smiled.

“You heard the man.”

Suzie handed Tomas the same hammer.

“You sure?” she asked quietly.

Tomas tested its weight.

“I’ve used heavier.”

He stepped onto the platform.

The tattooed man had tried to overpower the machine.

Tomas concentrated on the motion.

Feet planted.

Hands spaced correctly.

Hips first.

Shoulders following.

He raised the hammer.

Brought it down squarely.

CLANG.

The marker shot up the tower.

The bell rang.

For one heartbeat, the midway went silent.

Then the crowd exploded.

Tomas stared up at the bell.

He had done it.

No Red.

No stones.

No magic.

Him.

Vette threw both arms around him.

Bentley shouted loud enough to drown out the carnival music.

The tattooed man shoved Tomas.

Tomas stumbled but remained standing.

Bentley moved between them.

Phones rose around the crowd.

Tomas looked at the man.

“You really want to fight a fifteen-year-old in front of all those cameras?”

The man hesitated.

That was all Vette needed.

She picked up the hammer and swung it between his legs.

The crowd groaned.

The man collapsed.

“Run,” Vette said.

They ran.

They tore through the midway, dodging tourists and food stands.

Bentley knocked over a trash can behind them. Vette ducked beneath a ride barrier. Tomas nearly crashed into a cotton-candy cart.

By the time they reached the sedan, they were laughing too hard to breathe.

Bentley crawled behind the wheel and reconnected the wires.

“I love this town.”

The drive back to Soren’s house was quieter.

Bentley kept the windows down.

Cool night air filled the car.

Tomas watched the dark road pass.

The headache returned now that the rides and laughter were behind them.

So did the pull in his chest.

Red remained far away.

Tomas closed his eyes and replayed the bell ringing.

He had done something no one expected.

Something real.

The warmth remained inside him.

Bentley and Vette had given him room to discover it.

But it belonged to Tomas now.

They turned into Soren’s gated driveway.

Bentley slowed as the house appeared ahead.

Every window glowed.

The ease drained from both twins.

Bentley stopped the sedan before reaching the front steps.

He turned toward Tomas.

“Don’t go inside.”

“What?”

“Take the car,” Vette said. “Leave.”

Tomas looked between them.

“You brought me here.”

“We shouldn’t have,” Bentley said.

Vette gathered the remaining money and pushed it toward Tomas.

“Take this.”

“What’s going on?”

“He’ll lie to you,” Bentley said. “That’s what he does.”

“You saw what we did tonight,” Vette added. “People want to believe something badly enough, they hand you their money. Their watches. Their whole story.”

Bentley nodded toward the house.

“He’s better at it than we are.”

“Everyone is a mark to him,” Vette said.

“What does he want from me?”

Neither twin answered.

They exchanged one of their silent looks.

The shape of an answer existed between them.

Neither wanted to name it.

“You aren’t special to him,” Vette said. “He makes people feel special because it’s easier to use them afterward.”

A man stepped onto the porch.

Tall.

Lean.

Silver at the temples.

Soren studied the sedan as if he had been waiting for it.

Bentley and Vette climbed out quickly.

“Go,” Bentley whispered through Tomas’s open window. “Seriously.”

Soren crossed the walkway.

A large man in a black suit emerged behind him and opened an umbrella.

Rain began tapping against the roof of the sedan.

Soren rested one hand on the car and leaned toward the open window.

“You always were hesitant,” he said. “Even as a young boy.”

Bentley went still.

Vette looked toward the house.

Neither asked how Soren knew.

Tomas looked at the crumpled money in his hands.

Soren studied him.

“You have your father’s eyes.”

Tomas froze.

Father.

The word fell through him.

“My father?”

Soren smiled gently.

“Come inside. I’ll tell you what happened to him.”

Bentley swore beneath his breath.

“Tomas,” Vette warned.

Tomas opened the door. Soren stepped aside.

Rain spilled into the car as Tomas climbed out.

For a moment, he remained beside the sedan.

The warmth from the day still lived inside him.

So did every question Kay had refused to answer.

Soren turned toward the house.

Somewhere beyond the rain, Tomas thought he heard a voice.

Not commanding.Approving.

Yes.

Tomas followed Soren inside.