Chapter Text
The C note from the bugle lingers over the main square at nine o’clock and twenty seconds in the morning. And like it has for the past twenty years, it lands flat.
“Morning, Hux!” Snap calls out as he wipes down his bugle with a cloth.
Hux gives Snap a small wave. “Morning.” He’ll never understand why Snap serenades the village with a reveille every morning, come rain or shine, and why it’s at nine a.m., long after everyone’s awake. Of course, it’s not the strangest thing in Saltpoint Landing, but it certainly adds to its vibe.
What distinguishes Saltpoint Landing from the other small towns that dot the northern California coast are its residents. They’re deemed odd to most, quirky to some, and eccentric to the politically correct. Saltpoint isn’t a fishing town like Morro Bay, or an upscale hideaway loaded with chichi restaurants and art galleries like Carmel-by-the-Sea. It’s not even a beachgoer’s paradise like the oceanfront towns of SoCal. Saltpoint Landing is famous because its residents could double as extras in a Wes Anderson movie. Hux can be his typically rude self and outsiders would call him idiosyncratic or nonconformist.
The irony, however, is in the truth. Hux is a nonconformist among nonconformists. He’s left-brain driven where the rest of Saltpoint’s residents are right-brain. He’s abnormal because he’s too… well, normal.
Hux reaches the General Store—three buildings down from where Snap sells vinyl records and used instruments—and pulls out his key. They’ve had a hot summer, hotter and drier than most, and August looks to be no different. The morning sun is already reflecting off the store's double-planked wood panels, its formerly dark-brown grain now silvered from its years. The lock gives him a bit of difficulty, but after Hux pulls on the handle and jiggles the knob, it finally clicks open, albeit reluctantly.
Hux lifts his apron from its hook. Slips it over his head and ties it on with a swift and practiced movement, then pins his nametag to his chest. In another month, when the tourist season is over, he can dispense with the ID. But for now, to the summer pilgrims flooding the village, he’s Armitage Hux, Manager of Saltpoint Landing’s General Store.
It’s a shade better than what Saltpoint’s residents know him as: Brendol and Kaia Hux’s Son.
Hux sighs and flips the sign to ‘Open’. It swings five times, just as it always does, each swing growing smaller until it stops fifteen degrees to the left of center. It’s done this for as long as Hux can remember, as far back as twenty years ago when his mom worked the register and he was just a kid. He takes the left corner and pushes it down until the sign sits straight.
“Fine weather we’re having this morning, isn’t it Armitage?”
Hux quirks his brow. “Indeed, Mr. Daniels.” It’s sunny for ninety percent of the days during the summer—until the fog and drizzle invariably roll in around October—but whatever. Hux turns on the fan, boots up the computer, and opens the register.
Mr. Daniels holds up a copy of The Daily Sentinel, the pages snapping open as he reads.
“A shirtless man wearing a face covering scaled the 325-foot-tall Supreme Scream Drop tower Saturday night at Knott’s Berry Farm California police say the man stood atop the tower for more than an hour before descending on his own Buena Park police reported on Twitter television news video shows the man standing beside a flagpole on the tower at some points with his arms outstretched after climbing it at 7:23 p.m…”
Hux’s gaze doesn’t stray from his notebook. “I’m pretty sure there are some commas and periods in there, Mr. Daniels,” he says as he makes a neat box next to an item on his task list. The Daily Sentinel might be full of useless nonsense, the kind one expects from a freebie local paper, but there are still standards to uphold.
Mr. Daniels hums and turns the page. “Three causes of death have been found following an autopsy of an Ohio woman who died after riding a roller coaster at Holiday World & Splashin’ Safari theme park in Indiana outlets report the causes of death are severe internal blood loss the tearing of an artery and force from the roller coaster…”
“Jesus Christ.” Hux looks up at the ceiling. “It’s tear, like tearing a piece of paper. Not tear, like her damn artery is crying.” He goes back to checking the list and sighs. The chakra crystals that are so popular with the tourists are running low.
Mr. Daniels flips the page again—which, because it’s the local paper, pretty much takes him to the end—and mutters under his breath. It’s low enough that Hux can’t tell whether he’s reading the article or deriding Hux, but it’s loud enough to make him lose his train of thought. Twice.
Hux reaches into his pocket and pulls out his phone.
“Come on,” he begs as he hits the Spotify app. It buffers for thirty seconds before a No Internet Connection notification pops up onto his screen. He tries the YouTube app next—also without success, even though he walks the perimeter of the store while holding his phone at various angles.
When he returns to the counter, Mr. Daniels is still speaking, although his mouth appears to be quirked into a smile.
Hux’s eyes narrow. “One of these days, I’m getting a radio.” The 5G connection in Saltpoint is a joke. Largest and fastest network, smh. Verizon can bite him.
As much as Hux hates to admit it, however, his time with Mr. Daniels is probably the quietest of the day. At least, until closing. The General Store is Saltpoint Landing’s one-stop shop: a place where toothbrushes and shaving cream sit next to shelves of Sour Patch kids and hand-rolled chocolates, while crates of local produce lay in the same kinds of woven bins as the kitschy souvenirs. There’s also a section for spiritual items: crystals, tarot cards, incense, oils, and charm bags. The ‘Body, Mind, and Soul’ section of the store is undoubtedly the most popular one during the summer months, and Hux has it laid out nicely, with information cards placed next to each product.
He’s opening up a box of miniature dolphin figurines when the morning rush starts.
“Hi, mister!” A young girl chirps. Her father looks down at his phone while her mother gives Hux a polite wave. Her sister, on the other hand, holds on tight to their mother’s hand and gives Hux a suspicious glare.
Hux deems her the smartest of the bunch.
“Oh, maybe we’ll see some killer whales today,” their dad says.
The youngest girl’s eyes go big and round. “I don’t want to see a killer whale. I want to see a dolphin!”
Her mother puts a hand on her shoulder. “I’m sure we’ll see those, too.”
“Actually, killer whales are part of the dolphin family. And they’re probably more scared of us and the things we put into the oceans than we are of them,” Hux remarks casually.
“What kind of things?” the oldest child asks as her father frowns.
“Ships and pollutants. Those kind of things.”
“It’s nothing we’re going to be doing, darling,” her mother soothes in a patronizing tone, patting her head.
Hux fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’s not the only resident who has a love-hate relationship with the tourists who traipse into town when May approaches and the temperature warms. There’s a narrow window of five months—six, for the more devoted—when Saltpoint Landing sheds its insular skin, transforming into the lively, picturesque village that’s graced so many Instagram and Pinterest pages. But there’s no denying the relief that washes through town when October rolls around and things can go back to normal.
Well, normal for Saltpoint, anyway.
“We respect the ocean and its life. It’s probably the reason dolphins visit this area so frequently.” Hux leans over and whispers. “Personally, I think our town’s their favorite on the whole coast,” he adds as he turns the girl’s attention to the back of the store.
She grins at the sight of the dolphin-themed figurines, wood carvings, and t-shirts, and makes a beeline for the display. After digging through a pile of throw blankets, she latches onto an embroidered pillow while her sister chooses a rubber bath toy. As the sisters approach the counter, their parents quarrel over the most efficient way to go about their day, and the discord pulls at an unwelcome memory within Hux.
“Here, mister,” the older girl says as she pulls out a bill from the pink vinyl purse she’s carrying. She hands it over to Hux, watching him expectantly.
Hux stares at the twenty-dollar bill and then at the $55.50 ticket attached to the pillow.
In the background, the parents’ argument has escalated, their voices raised.
Hux swallows. “Well, that will be five dollars and fifty cents. And a dollar for the toy,” he adds as Mr. Daniels stops his recitation. “Out of twenty?” He hands the girl her change and wraps up the pillow in pretty tissue paper as she beams.
“Thanks, mister,” she says. She stands on her tiptoes, her chubby hands gripping the edge of the counter as she tries to pull herself up closer to Hux. “I promise I won’t put any bad things into the water,” she adds solemnly before joining her family. Her father looks furious and her mother wears a stoney expression as a result of their argument, but it doesn’t seem to dampen the child’s enthusiasm. She turns back to Hux as they exit the shop and waves.
Hux reaches under the counter and pulls out his sketchbook. He tries to drown out the memories of his own childhood by focusing on his drawing, to lose himself to the sound of graphite rubbing against the thick texture of the paper, but something feels off. He looks up once he realizes it’s because Mr. Daniels has stopped reading, his newspaper folded and forgotten on top of the counter.
“What?” Hux asks crossly as his face heats.
Mr. Daniels looks at Hux, his blue eyes uncannily sharp. “So you do care, after all.”
“I’m an asshole. It doesn’t mean I don’t have feelings.”
Mr. Daniels snorts. “Stiff upper lip, Armitage. Fall’s almost here. Then you’ll have the entire off-season to yourself before you’re forced to be civil and social again.”
“Perhaps I won’t be here after this summer.” Hux scowls, pushing down on his pencil so hard the tip breaks.
Shit. It’s definitely a sign. He needs to get out of Saltpoint Landing. Maybe right after the summer; he can put the General Store up for sale or even rent it out. Hux already feels the town’s pull, but in a bad way. Everyone who lives here never leaves, and to Hux that feels like a life sentence. It’s not the first time he’s had these thoughts, but it’s the first time he’s voiced them out loud.
He refuses to become another statistic.
*
As he does every Friday during the summer, Hux lays down his blanket and claims the single flat, shady spot overlooking the ocean. He remembers coming to the cliffs as a child. Even then, the residents of Saltpoint Landing would gather onto the narrow strip of land at sunset, watching the blowhole gush water nearly twenty-feet in the air or to marvel at the local pod of dolphins frolicking in the waves.
Hux isn’t sure why he holds fast to the tradition. Perhaps it’s out of deference to his mother, or maybe it’s because it’s something that makes him feel part of the town collective.
A hulking shadow falls over him. Hux looks up, squinting as his eyes adjust to the change in light.
“I brought sandwiches.” Kylo grunts, then sets a brown paper bag on top of Hux’s blanket and sits without permission. Hux doesn’t know what to unpack first—the fact that Kylo brought him dinner, or Kylo’s clothing. Kylo’s outfit is especially striking today: he’s wearing his favorite crop top (“It’s Tom Ford for Gucci,” Kylo had said, as if slapping some designer name over a piece of fabric that threatened to reveal his nipples every time he stretched made it okay); a pair of faded overalls which Kylo chooses to wear as pants by tying the ends of its suspenders around his waist like a belt (“Regular jeans interfere with my spiritual flow”); and his grandmother’s pearls.
Hux wouldn’t be caught dead wearing pearls himself, but he understands Kylo’s need to feel connected to family. At least some of them, anyway.
Their mutual loneliness is just about the only thing they have in common. Kylo is everything Hux isn’t. In fact, Hux isn’t sure why Kylo insists on spending time with him when the other townsfolk align more with his world view.
“Looks interesting,” Hux remarks as Kylo removes the sandwiches from their bag. Something green is visible underneath the oil-soaked, wax-paper wrap.
“Avocado, onions, arugula, cheddar, and tomato. The onions and tomatoes are from Maz’s farm,” Kylo adds.
“Of course they are.” Maz has the corner on the market for anything that’s born from the earth in the village—which, for Saltpoint Landing, is a lot. Even if she didn’t, Hux’s conscience wouldn’t allow him to buy from anyone else. Maz is the reason he’s here, and he both loves and blames her in equal degree.
Kylo knows this, of course—in the same uncanny way he can always tell exactly when Hux will arrive at the beach, or leave the store, or head to the supermarket to buy groceries for the week. Kylo gets up too late to run into Hux in the mornings—which is a good thing, because that might push things into creeper territory. Although Kylo is also too distracted half the time to engage in truly stalker-ish behavior.
Hux asked Kylo about his intuition, once. Kylo had nattered about auras and spiritual energies (“There’s almost too much in Saltpoint. It’s why I wear sunglasses all the time”). Hux thinks it’s a bunch of bull, especially since Kylo has no problem not wearing glasses when they’re together.
Hux looks around as Kylo lays out their meal. There’s quite a crowd this evening; he even spies the family from the morning walking along the beach. The husband and wife don’t appear to be bickering anymore, although there’s a distance between them, the two girls acting as a buffer. They’re watching surfers brave the rising tide and falling water temperatures.
Kylo looks around, and must deem it safe to remove his glasses, although he keeps them easily within reach. “It gets more crowded every year,” he grumbles.
Hux cocks his head. “I’d think you’d like that. Good for business.”
Kylo’s brow draws down into a vee. “I don’t do what I do ‘for business’. It’s a gift. And a burden,” he adds with such a put-upon expression that Hux snorts. Kylo fixes him with a glare, his amber eyes darkening. “It’s true. If I wanted to, I could put an A-frame in front of my home, hang up a beaded curtain, burn some incense, and make a ton of money off the out-of-towners.”
“Why don’t you, then? Rey does well for herself,” Hux says, thinking about the young woman who works out of the spiritual shop next to Snap’s record store. She’s always wearing crystals and beads, she reads tarot cards and palms, and Hux thinks she even reads tea leaves like that loony fortune teller from Harry Potter. The out-of-towners —and the townies—love Rey. She’s welcoming and cheery, while Kylo’s just… well, intense.
Kylo gives Hux a pained look. “Haven’t you heard anything I said? I won’t exploit my skills. I can’t help it if I’m constantly bombarded by all these auras. It gets really intense, sometimes. If only this town didn’t have so much damned energy—”
“Saltpoint Landing—the town itself—has an energy.” Hux says flatly, raising his brow in disbelief.
“Of course. There’s a life force in all things.” Kylo frowns. “Saltpoint Landing’s energy is not only incredibly strong, it’s constantly changing. There are some days where there’s just too much for me to sort out. And it’s worse in the summer, with all the new people coming through.”
“Ugh.” Hux unwraps his sandwich and lifts the top slice of bread. It doesn’t look half-bad, though he wouldn’t mind something loaded with nitrates or sugar once in a while. He replaces the bread and takes a small bite from its corner. “I know what you mean,” he says when he’s finished chewing. “I can’t wait, because after this summer’s over, I won’t have to deal with the vacationers ever again.”
“What?” Kylo puts down his half-unwrapped sandwich and stares at Hux. “What do you mean?”
“I’m leaving. Moving on,” Hux says with an airy wave of his hand. “I’m twenty-six. That’s enough years to give to this place, don’t you think?”
Kylo looks down at his hands. “I don’t know,” he says, his laugh a bit forced. “I’ve only been here for five.” He doesn’t seem hungry anymore, since he puts his sunglasses back on and leaves his sandwich untouched.
“You could leave too, you know,” Hux says, surprising himself. “Maybe there’s a place where the energies aren’t… I don’t know, so much?”
Kylo just shrugs. “What will happen to the store if you leave?”
“I don’t know. Rent it out? Sell it?” Hux hasn’t thought that far ahead. “I’m sure someone would want to buy it.”
Kylo looks at him sharply. “Your aura… You say you want to sell the store, but the thought doesn’t make you happy.”
Hux glares. “Stop reading my aura, will you? And it’s not that I’m unhappy, exactly. It’s complicated.” He puts down his sandwich, having lost his appetite as well. The store is the last thing he has of his mom, but with every day that passes, he worries he’ll suffer her same fate.
His mother had been beautiful but naïve, falling like a cliche for some asshole college guy sporting a popped-up collar, a fancy name, and a sweet ride. Brendol Hux was square-jawed, with a mouth that could be syrupy sweet one minute and cut like a knife in the next. She should have known better. All the vacationers were either retired boomers who shucked their three-piece suits for drainpipe trousers and Birkenstocks, or trust fund kids who got off on the idea of spending a fun summer in a hipster town.
All it had taken was a ride in Brendol’s Stingray and a picnic followed by a quick fumble, for Kaia to get pregnant. And, apparently, there was a single, decent bone in Brendol’s body, because Hux’s father tried to make it work, marrying Kaia even though he was still in college and she was pulling minimum wage in Maz Kanata’s General Store. But that all changed when Brendol took off eighteen months later, leaving Kaia with a baby with a country club name and a colicky cry. After cursing her poor judgment, she’d packed her bags and moved back to Saltpoint Landing.
“Maz sold my mother the store. It kept a roof over our heads when I was growing up and now it’s helped me pay off my school loans, but I can’t stay here forever, Kylo. I mean, can you imagine doing this for another twenty years? You and I, coming here every Friday, doing the same thing, week after week?” Hux points to the three men by the beach’s steps who are drinking cheap beer and gossiping loudly. “We’d be like Ackbar, Plutt, and Nine: version 2.0.”
“We don’t have to keep doing the same thing. We could… I don’t know, work on Maz’s farm. Learn how to ride the waves,” Kylo says, looking pointedly at the few body boarders still left in the water.
The image of Kylo on a surfboard with his crop top and pearls has Hux doubling over in laughter. “Okay,” he says, wiping the corner of his eyes, “I won’t till the earth, but if I’m still here a year from now, you can take me surfing.”
Kylo opens his mouth, but whatever he’s about to say is drowned out by the din as a pod of dolphins comes into view from the cove. Even Hux isn’t cynical enough to deny their beauty. One of his fondest memories from childhood is coming down to the cliffs, perching on the ledge, and waiting for the dolphins to swim by. Of course, there were days where the pod wouldn’t appear, but Saltpoint Landing seems to be favored, more frequently graced by its presence than any of the surrounding towns. He’s not sure why he enjoys the sightings so much—whether it’s a sense of nostalgia, or the freedom and carefreeness the dolphins represent, but he watches. Waits for something to happen.
Several of the dolphins breach the water, their bodies sleek and powerful as they dive over and under the surface. An excited murmur ripples through the crowd as the number of jumpers grows. The water turns frothy from their activity and the air fills with the sounds of clicks and whistles.
“What’s going on?” Hux whispers as the pod stampedes, faster and more frenzied than usual. There’s an unease that’s palpable as the crowd falls silent. The number of dolphins seems to increase exponentially—there must be at least several hundred of them, the largest Hux has ever seen.
Then, as quickly as it started, the stampede is over.
Hux lets out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. “What the fuck was that about?” Hux asks as the low hum of conversation around them picks up.
Kylo whirls around and looks at Hux with a guilty expression. “What?”
“The dolphin pod. There was a stampede, and… Nevermind.” Hux lets out a long sigh. So much for Kylo being in tune with the energies of the land and the sea. He twists around to see what was holding Kylo’s attention, but all he sees is Old Man Luke walking around the blowhole.
Hux isn’t sure what Luke’s story is. Luke’s been old ever since Hux was a kid, an oddly permanent fixture around town. He keeps to himself. But he’s also the person who pops up where he’s least expected: always present, yet never there.
“What do you think he’s doing?” Hux asks as he watches Luke circle the blowhole once more.
Kylo glances over, his expression tightening. “The energy is off. There’s… there’s been a disturbance in the life force.”
Hux rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” He’s not sure what his future holds, but it certainly won’t be here. Saltpoint Landing is the place of strange things and broken dreams, and Hux is determined to escape it.