The Cypress Trap

Chapter 9

Rayanne watched Darryl push his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose and scoot into the bench across from her. She knew he’d been her husband’s best friend since childhood, and he never really seemed to change. Darryl was a slender, rumpled looking man somewhere in his mid-thirties, wearing a blue-and-white horizontally-striped collared shirt that looked as if it’d been washed one too many times. His blue and orange Gators ball cap was equally faded, as he seemed to always be wearing it. Darryl removed the cap, scratched his scalp, then returned it atop his head. Owen plopped down beside him and motioned for the waitress to bring another menu.

“I tried calling you back but you never picked up,” Darryl said, turning to Owen.

Owen shrugged. “Cell phone’s not working.” 

The waitress returned to the table and handed Darryl a menu. He took it, glanced at it, then set it down.

“So, what happened to your phone?”

“It just... ” Owen looked down at his Mountain Dew. Then he glanced at Rayanne. “Well, it just broke.” 

Darryl laughed. “No harm done, right? We’re all together now, right?” Once again, he opened the menu, glanced at it, then shut it. “I was expecting you to be at the lake though, not antiquing around Hooterville.”

“We ran into some trouble,” Rayanne said coolly.

Darryl smiled at her.  “Good to see you, Rayanne.”

“Darryl.” Her voice was more disappointed than anything else. 

Darryl nodded at her then turned back to Owen. “You’re not really leaving yet, are you? I just got here.”

Rayanne looked interested and wary. “I thought you were fishing in some bass tournament.”

Darryl removed his glasses, held them up a couple of inches in front of his face and squinted. “I got stuck with a crazy partner. He was wearing a hard hat and using a spinner reel,” he said, cleaning the lenses with the edge of his shirt sleeve. “I gave up and then when I got Owen’s text, I jumped at the chance.”

As he spoke, Rayanne’s expression turned from interest to derision. “Yeeaaah,” she said sarcastically.

“I didn’t think you were coming.” Owen flagged down the waitress and ordered some eggs, sunny side up, and another Mountain Dew. Darryl nudged him.

“I sent you a text. You didn’t get it?”

Owen grimaced. “I, er, broke my phone.”

“Broke it?” Rayanne put down her tea, suddenly irritable. “He threw it at a tree.”

Darryl ignored her. “Don’t matter anyway. The fishing tournament was a bust. So how’s the boat running?”

“Like a charm.”

“Are we taking it out?”

“Of course. We got all day.”

“Owen, I thought we were leaving.” Rayanne picked up the check and started to rise from the booth. Owen put a hand on her arm.

“Babe, Darryl’s here.”

“I can see that.” She slumped back into the booth. “But what about last night?” she asked, not entirely sure she wanted to know.

“Darryl and I are going fishing,” he said. “You can come with us or you can stay here and go antiquing through Hooterville.” He and Darryl both laughed at the joke, then Owen called to the waitress to bring Darryl a cup of coffee.