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“Thanks, Benson,” Rusty said with his gap-toothed smile.
He didn’t understand that he shouldn’t take up one of these seats if he was only munching the free peanuts, but Sonya was too nice to run him off.
I never watched football at home, but here in the bar, it came with the territory, and I’d long ago stopped bitching about it. My gaze drifted up to the TV. I should have been up there, and I would’ve, if only…
The door to the street opened, and a drop in the conversation level around me explained who it was without even having to look.
It could only be our very own Officer Devlin Pollock of the Clear Lake PD. The crowd in the bar tended to side with us Bensons in the feud between our two families. If Devlin’s brother wasn’t in here, his list of friends in the place shrank to zero.
I chuckled to myself. That wasn’t an exaggeration. Devlin was a dick of the first order, and everybody who’d spent any time in this town knew it.
The conversations picked back up, and I took a swig of my beer as I sneaked a glance back. He only seemed to come in here to bug me or one of my brothers. Somehow, my sister, Pris, didn’t get the same treatment.
My skin crawled when, as expected, Devlin chose the seat next to mine. At least with the crowd in here, I was protected from the asshole making up some bullshit excuse to cuff me or Taser me.
“Hey, Boone,” he said. “How’s the hotel working out?”
His question came out of left field.
My eyes went back to the screen. “Okay.”
“I’m here about that complaint you filed.”
Now he had my attention. Loretta Sands, his brother Gibson’s girlfriend, had come into my hardware store at the end of the day sporting a fresh black eye she hadn’t had at lunch time. Although it had been a while since I’d seen evidence, it was an open secret in town that Gibson beat her up on occasion.
Loretta always laughed it off, and nothing had ever been done. Gibs seemed to think that because his family ran the local police department, he could get away with it. But I’d had enough and decided it was time we got a paper trail going on Gibson’s abuse. Sooner or later, Loretta would come to her senses.
I turned to him. “So what are you doing about it?”
“Well, I talked to Loretta…”
I could already tell how this was going to go, and it made my blood boil. “With or without Gibs there?” I demanded.
“Hold on there, Boone. There’s nothing going on. She said she ran into a door, and it was nothin’ to do with Gibs.”
So this visit was for him to blow me off and pretend Gibson wasn’t the abusive asshole we all knew he was.
Devlin still hadn’t answered my question. “Fuck that. Was your brother there when you talked to her?”
He raised a hand. “No need to get riled. I talked to her, and she said it was the door, like I told you.”
I clenched my fist but held back from slugging the bastard. “You want to see riled?” I stood over the turd. “You cover for your brother on this one more fucking time, and you’ll learn about riled.” I could read the fear in his eyes.
“You threatening me, Boone?” he yelled to make sure the crowd nearby heard.
Conversation nearby slowed.
I smiled. “Not at all, Officer Dickie,” I yelled back. We all knew he hated that nickname.
The room went quiet.
I continued, equally loudly, “You cover for Gibson one more time, and I’m taking this to the state police. Consider that a promise.” I took my seat again. “Nice talking to ya.”
If he was a cartoon character, there’d be steam coming out of his ears. The state police was one group he and his father, the local chief of police, couldn’t intimidate or buy off.
Our show was over, and the background noise of the bar returned.
Pointing up at the screen, Devlin said, “Too bad you lost your shot. I heard Jared is sittin’ pretty now, married to some actress named Jennifer something out in California.” He wandered off toward the corner table he favored.
