Page 82 of True

In town, Alec stopped by Buddy's to pick up some groceries for the meal he intended to prepare

for Tyler. He had nothing but what he would consider bachelor food. Cereal. Fruit. Potato chips… all stuff he could binge while writing. He wanted to do something more substantial for Tyler. After all, they were having sex.

You're having sex. You just got out of a terrible relationship and now you're jumping into

another.

The voices in his head were back. He was used to them. Sometimes they were helpful, steering

him with his writing… but often they were paranoid insecurities, taunting, and annoying.

He opened the door to the Bodega and stepped inside.

Buddy was behind the counter. "Hey there, Alec," he said. "How was the show last night?"

"You were there, Buddy… for most of it anyway. We closed up shortly after you left."

Buddy nodded, smiling. "Yeah, the storm wasn't as bad as they had thought. But you never know up here in the mountains. What can I do you for?"

"I need some dinner-type food. What do you have in the way of fresh greens, and vegetables? I'd like to make a Caesar salad. Asparagus would be great... but I know it's not in season. Maybe

broccoli?"

Buddy's smile faded. "Alec, we really don't have anything fresh. Storms like last night prevent the trucks from coming. What you see is what we have."

He looked around. The pickings were very slim.

"OK, then," said Alec. "I'll just… browse."

"Take your time. Let me know if you need any help," Buddy said, his tone a little off. He was still the same friendly shopkeeper, but something was different and Alec couldn't quite put his finger on it.

He went down one of the small aisles looking for lasagna noodles snatching a small bottle of

olive oil on his way. When he found the tiny pasta section, the only thing there was elbow macaroni.

Great, he thought. His whole plan had been to do something romantic. Simple. Italian. Spaghetti with a fresh salad and bread… maybe an additional vegetable.

Next to the macaroni was a single jar ofNewman's Ownpasta sauce, the label faded.

No. This won't do at all.

"Hey, Buddy… what do you have in the way of frozen food?"

When he turned back, Marge had joined Buddy behind the counter. They were both just standing

there, smiling. It was a little unsettling… like the kids in that movieVillage of the Damned, or the townsfolk in Levin'sStepford Wives.

Demarco would have appreciated his spot-on horror movie references, but before Buddy could

even acknowledge his question, it dawned on him.

I'm wearing the same clothes as last night.

He might as well have been parading around Buddy's Bodega with a sign reading, HEY

EVERYBODY, I GOT LAID. Not only was it awalk-of-shame, but he was also traipsing around in front of the two match-makers responsible, gloating without even realizing.

His face turned three consecutive shades of scarlet.