“What?” Tyler wasn’t sure that he had heard her correctly.

“I’m going on a beer run.”

“You’re at an art exhibition.”

“So?” Precocious looked at Tyler like he wasn’t gripping some very basic rule of life. “There’s a liquor store right down the street.”

“You’re at an art exhibition. You can’t go on a beer run when you’re at an art exhibition.”

“You really need to go to more art exhibitions in Kansas.” Precocious reached out and grabbed Tyler’s hand. “Come on.” She pulled him away from the wall and towards the door. “Everyone’s in appreciation mode right now. No one’s going to notice if we slip out for ten minutes.”

“Won’t Linda kill you?”

“Who do you think started the beer run tradition?” Precocious tugged on Tyler’s hand again. “Come on. If we stand still for too long, we’ll get accosted, and then another attempt at escape will have to wait for at *least* an hour.”

Tyler was thoroughly amused by the whole situation. “If you don’t like exhibitions, why did you decide to share a place with an artist?”

“It’s not the exhibitions I mind; it’s some of the people at them.” Precocious made it to the front door of the gallery and looked back at Tyler. “Last chance to escape into the hole of polite society.”

Tyler had a sudden flash of memory set in a stuffy banquet hall in San Francisco. He’d been pinned to the wall by too many questions from a group of society women, and all he’d wanted was for Julia to bail him out. She’d stayed across the room talking with another group of society women and barely spared him a glance. “Let’s go.”

Outside, it was a solidly beautiful summer night in Southwestern Kansas. The wind that usually attempted to rip people from their feet, has slowed down to a comfortable breeze, and the sun was setting up a postcard shot behind the west side of the square. There were people walking around, window shopping, stopping to chat, and making the very most of the weather. Tyler had to stop for a moment and remind himself that he’d seen all the activity in front of him before. He’d been out of town for almost eight years; he hadn’t expected it to be so much the same when he got back. He hadn’t expected to come back.

“You okay?” Precocious was looking at him with a worried expression on her face.

“I just, haven’t been here in awhile. I thought it would have changed by now.”

“Small towns never change.”

Tyler shook his head. “There are 20,000 people in this town. It isn’t small.”

“There are 20,000 people in this town who are farmers and teachers and small business owners. That’s all you have to have to make any town small.” Precocious glanced at Tyler as she led the way to the liquor store. “Are you going to go into culture shock?”

“I might.” Tyler found himself looking for small changes in the buildings to put his mind at ease. There was a sign warning about renovations on the front of a two story apartment house. The yellow paint on the curb looked fresh. He felt himself relax. “San Francisco changes every twenty seconds, I think. Where I lived, there were artists everywhere. Someone would scrawl a mural in chalk on the sidewalk, the next day it’d be a three-square political rant about the evils of the current President. I forgot that some places don’t change like that.”

“Do you miss San Francisco?”

“I don’t really know. Too much of it mixes with Julia in my head right now, and I don’t want to miss anything that she was involved in.” Tyler grimaced at himself. “I sound like an asshole.”

“Nah, you don’t.” Precocious opened the door to the liquor store and waved at the guy behind the counter. “Hey, Mark, how are you?”

“Pretty good.” Mark smiled from his seat behind the register. “Cheap wine night?”

“Nah. Beer run for the exhibition.” Precocious shared a smile with Mark, then turned towards Tyler. “Tyler, this is Mark. Mark, this is Tyler. Mark runs this lovely booze establishment. Tyler ran off with Mr. Patterson’s daughter a while back, and now has his head screwed on straight.”

Mark let out a laugh and reached into the plastic bowl on the counter that held the airline-sized drink bottles. “Hell, just for that he gets a freebie.”

Some part of Tyler was pretty sure he should feel embarrassed, but he found himself laughing along when Mark tossed him a tiny bottle of vodka. “Thanks.” He wasn’t sure if he should pocket it or crack it open right then, but he was saved from deciding when Precocious touched his arm and motioned to the beer case along the far wall. “Come on.” He let himself be led to the beer case, and like all good Midwestern men, he stood in silent awe for a few seconds at the sheer selection of wonderfully bad-tasting booze.

“Do we have a list?”

Precocious shook her head. “Nah. Linda will want double chocolate stout, and I’m a Guinness girl. If anyone else wants something, they’ll sneak away before too long.” She pulled a six pack of Guinness from the refrigeration unit and passed it to Tyler. “Do you want anything?”

“I’m okay, thanks.” Tyler shifted the Guinness to his left hand and offered out his right for the three large bottles of stout that Precocious was trying to balance. “I can take one of those.”

“Thank you.” Precocious handed a bottle over and closed the door to the refrigeration unit. She walked to the counter, Tyler at her heels, and they set everything on the counter. “And some beef jerky, if you would, Mark.”

“Of course.” Mark reached into the clear fronted container to his left and pulled out two pieces of beef jerky. They were both about ten inches long and four inches wide. “Would you like the rest of the cow to go with it or will this work?”

“That should do it.”

“Great.” Mark pulled three thin bags from under the counter and snapped them open. He placed the bottles of stout one to a bag, and then placed all three of them into a larger bag. He put the beef jerky in its own bag and passed the whole thing across the counter to Precocious. “I’ll put it on your tab.”

“You’re great.” Precocious leaned across the counter and pecked Mark on the cheek. “Take a break sometime tonight and come see the show. Linda’s got some great pieces up.”

“I’ll try to get away. I’ll have the rest of the crazy art crowd here for drinks five minutes after you show back up at the gallery with your spoils.” Mark nodded in Tyler’s direction. “It was nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” Tyler tucked the Guinness under his arm and reached for the bag with the bottles of stout. He was rewarded by Precocious slapping his hand away.

“Don’t even think about it. I can carry it.” She lifted the bag with ease and waved a last goodbye to Mark. “Just don’t drop my beer.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Tyler held the door to the store open for Precocious. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a Guinness drinker.”

“Most people don’t. I think they expect me to drink Pabst, but I can’t stand it. American beer tastes like shit.”

“I’ve always thought that it tastes like horse piss,” Tyler said as he shifted the Guinness from under his arm to his left hand. “I’m not much of a beer drinker, anyway. San Francisco had a couple of small breweries that made flavored beer, but they were local, so I don’t think I’ll be finding it around here.”