Shakedown Street

When Jack first pitched the idea of a Florida beach getaway, Robby groused, insisting that the Jersey shore was a lot closer and just as nice.

But Jack wouldn’t hear any of it.

An old Army buddy had a bungalow in a little beach town called Nokomis, midway down Florida’s gulf coast between Sarasota and Venice, and the snowbird couple who’d rented it for the winter had to cut their stay short after the husband suffered a stroke. Jack worked with Dana to rejigger the schedule so he and Robby could take a full week off in late February, before the beaches filled up with spring break revelers.

The bungalow sat a couple of blocks from Casey Key Beach, one of the lesser known beaches in the area. The beach, like Nokomis itself, was quiet, unpretentious, and unlike Longboat Key and Anna Maria Island to the north, wasn’t heavily built up with expensive high-rise condos. Jack figured it was the perfect place to get away, unplug, and breathe.

The beach was mostly empty when they arrived with camp chairs, an L.L. Bean tote bag , and a soft-sided cooler full of beer. Jack stretched out his legs and slid his ballcap low over his eyes, and within a few minutes, the warm sun and the sound of the waves lulled him to sleep.

The crisp flutter of paper pricked at his awareness and he opened his eyes. Unsure how long he’d been dozing and too lazy to fish his watch out of the bottom of the beach tote, Jack guessed by the height of the blazing sun that it was close to noon. He watched a young girl toddle along the water’s edge with a plastic bucket in hand, picking up shells as her mother followed close on her heels.

Jack doffed his ballcap and wiped the sweat from his brow, then turned to his left where Robby sat, a soft-bound journal propped on his belly. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” He shook his head and sighed.

“What?” Robby glanced up from the latest issue of the Annals of Emergency Medicine and tipped his Panama hat to get a better view. “Figured I’d catch up on my reading.” He tilted the journal so Jack could read the article title: “Accuracy of Point-of-Care Ultrasound Versus Consultative Echocardiography to Identify Right Ventricular Dysfunction in Emergency Department Patients With Pulmonary Embolism.”

“Brother.” Jack’s tone was chastising, his jaw tense. “We’re on vacation. We flew down here to get out of the cold and away from work.” He pointed an accusing finger at the journal. “And that—that’s work.”

“It’s not—”

Jack snatched the journal out of Robby’s hand and tucked it into the tote bag next to the cooler. “Normal people don’t read shit like that on vacation, and if we’re to make a real vacation out of this, we’re not gonna read that kind of shit either.”

Robby scowled. “But—”

“No buts.”

Unzipping the cooler, Jack pulled out two cans of V Twin Vienna Lager, a local beer brewed in nearby Bradenton. He passed one to Robby, who accepted it with a petulant frown. They cracked open their beers and clacked their cans together in a silent toast.

Jack grunted in approval when the hoppy tang hit his palate. “Now that’s what a vacation tastes like.” He dropped his can in the cupholder and turned to Robby, who held the beer in his mouth for a moment, then swallowed.

“Yeah, that’s good stuff,” Robby said, then took another long sip before setting his own can aside and wiping his mustache with the back of his hand. “Mmm.”

“That’s the spirit.”

Jack glanced down at his feet and kneaded his toes through the powdery white sand. The sun had warmed his skin and he felt a bead of sweat trickle down the inside of his arm.

“Let’s go in.”

Robby sighed, his eyes fluttering open as he turned lazily to face Jack. “Hmm?”

“Let’s go in the water. I wanna try out my new swim leg.” Jack patted the side of his prosthetic calf for emphasis. “Come on, brother.”

They made their way out into the surf, which gently nudged their legs without pounding into them. They stopped when the water was chest-deep. Robby rolled onto his back and extended his arms and floated, careful to avoid getting his sunglasses wet while Jack swam a bit further out, testing the feel of his new prosthesis. He pushed through the water using the breaststroke at first, using his new leg to frog kick, then switched to a crawl to test the feel of the device as he used a flutter kick to paddle his way back towards Robby.

Jack swam up to him and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

Robby startled, then smiled adoringly. “Hey,” he whispered as he righted himself, standing up in the surf, his knees bent slightly so they stood eye to eye amid the undulating waves. “Leg’s good?”

“It’s amazing.” Jack ruffled the water out of his gray curls and smiled. Reaching for Robby’s beard, leaned in for another kiss, letting his lips linger against Robby’s salt-bitten mouth. “Works great. So glad I got it.”

“Mmmm.” Robby nodded, resting his forehead against Jack’s as he snaked his arms around Jack’s waist and tugging him close. “Me, too. Love that for you.”

Planting his feet into the soft sand, Jack rocked his hips forward, grinning at the feel of Robby’s soft bulk against his thigh. “Love this for us.”

“Yeah?” Robby murmured and pulled Jack close, angling his head as their lips met and teasing Jack’s lips open with the point of his tongue.

Jack welcomed the kiss, slipping his hand under the waistband of Robby’s boardshorts as he teased the top of his crack. “I think I’m gonna need a nap before dinner,” he said with a slanted smile as they pulled apart.

Robby smoothed his beard with his fingers, unable to contain a smirk. “A nap?”

“Among other things.” Jack let his finger slide along the cleft between Robby’s cheeks. “Unless you’d rather spend the afternoon reading about imaging PEs in the ED.”

Robby grinned. “A nap sounds nice.”

Jack withdrew his hand and smacked Robby on the bottom, then waded away, glancing over his shoulder as he made his way back to their chairs.