Home Fires

by W L Ripley

  Tommy looked at him. “So full of shit, aren’t you? Buddy would rip your head off and laugh about it. Morgan though?” Thinking about how Morgan had taken down Haller. So quick. Steve here had a big mouth and a quick temper combined with low intelligence so maybe he could use him to get back at Morgan.

  Tommy said, “So, what are you little Nancy-boys gonna do? Let Jake Morgan punk you out like that? It’s like your noses bleed every twenty-eight days.”

  “He took you and Fat Boy out,” said Steve.

  “True.” Nodding his head, playing along. “That’s true. But Fat is just big, and Morgan caught me off-guard.”

  “Heard otherwise,” said Steve, nudging Robby with an elbow.

  “Yeah,” said Robby.

  They were big enough. Both bigger, well thicker, than Morgan. Morgan was taller and quicker, hell, much quicker. Barb took on Morgan, it was a win-win. Either way, Tommy got something out of it. Morgan got his ass kicked or if the opposite happened, that would shut Steve up for a while. Steve could get on your nerves in small doses. Morgan too.

  Tommy saying now, “Tell you what. You guys whip up on Morgan and I’ll give you a hundred bucks each. How’s that sound?”

  “Sounds like you want someone do your dirty work,” said Robby.

  “Shut up, Robby,” said Steve, placing the side of his hand against Robby’s chest. “Hang on a minute. I don’t need Robby.”

  “I think you do,” Tommy said, setting the hook. “This Morgan, he’s a bad boy and you guys aren’t used to bad boys.”

  “We’ll see,” said Steve.

  And, just like that, Tommy knew he had him.

  Alex knew he should’ve been out at the plant getting things done. Instead he was pulling a “Tommy” and was on his second double bourbon sitting in the lounge at the Holiday Inn out on the highway. He ordered a beer on the side with the second bourbon, the only person in the bar.

  “Pulling a Tommy” was what they called it when somebody blew off their responsibilities and got drunk or generally disappeared. Little brother was becoming increasingly unstable since Harper divorced him. Tommy had never been what you would call reliable. Tommy could surprise you but now these surprises were coming more often, and each seemed to be more self-destructive than the last one.

  Alex’s problem now was Pam. He didn’t realize she could still get to him. She spent the afternoon with him and the family when Morgan and Johnson had come out. Morgan. He wondered about Pam talking to the guy before he left. Goddamn her, right in front of his family and his employees. Morgan and Pam? Were they – ?

  No, don’t think about that. Thinking about it made it worse. He knew they used to be an item, but Morgan was interested in Harper, that’s what he told himself.

  He looked around the lounge, noted the bored bartender and the standard motel décor. Muzak muted through bar speakers. No atmosphere.

  So he left some money on the table and headed downtown.

  To Hank’s place.

  “There you go,” said Hank to Jake. “I added some new stuff to the jukebox just for you. I expect a tip so get your money up.”

  Hank’s idea of “new stuff” was more of the same. It just hadn’t been on the jukebox earlier. Jake smiled and punched in some Tom Petty, some Johnny Cash recorded just before he died, and a little Roy Orbison, how long had Orbison been gone and Hank called it “new”.

  Jake was waiting on Harper who had some extra work to get in and they were going to get together later so Jake was killing time. It was gradually getting better with her.

  He had misjudged Hanna with his first impression. She had not seemed the fem fatale her past might suggest. Maybe she wasn’t. Never understand the numbing ennui of small towns. The town’s ambience had changed, it was different for him now, but Hank was Hank and...Leo the Lion was right. Pam was Pam Kellogg. Always would be. You could not marry that out of her.

  And Jake’s feelings about his dad were different. Better.

  Thinking about all this when Alex Mitchell walked into Hank’s. Alex started walking towards Jake’s table. Now what?

  What a life.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Alex Mitchell listed like a small boat at sea as he staggered toward Jake. Alex lifted a hand just above his waist and gave a wave to Jake.

  Hank saying now, “Watch yourself, Mitchell.”

  Alex waved both hands. “No, no. It’s cool. Ice cold.” He looked at Jake and asked if he could join him.

  Why not? Jake pushed out a chair with his boot.

  Alex sat, pointed at his chest and said, “Fill ’er up, Hank. High test. Beam and a Bud, please.”

  Hank made a face but brought a can of Budweiser and a filled shot glass and sat them on the table.

  “Put it on my tab,” Jake said. Hank gave Jake a look, but Jake nodded, and Hank walked back to the bar.

  “Feeling guilty? Gonna make you feel better about yourself you buy me a drink?”

  Jake watched Alex for a moment, before answering. “Don’t believe I’m in the mood for it so go a different direction.”

  Alex started looking around the room as if not remembering where he was.

  “You all right?” Jake asked.

  “Yeah, sure,” Alex said, and then laughed a drunken chuckle. “I’m fucking copacetic. Was any better I’d throw a party. How you doing?”

  “Looks like you’ve already been partying.”

  “Not so you’d notice. What goes on inside is not always mirrored by appearances.”

  “Early, isn’t it?”

  “Not when you have reason. I’ve got things – .” He paused to point a wavering finger in Jake’s direction. “Things to think about I want to get outside my head. You ever have that?”

  Jake sipped his beer and waited. Listening to drunks talk was a chore.

  “Look, man,” Alex said. “I don’t want to keep this thing going between me and you. You know about this thing, right?”

  Jake said nothing. Let him talk.

  “Okay,” Alex said. “Maybe you don’t. Doesn’t matter. Just two guys sitting here drinking beer and shooting the shit.” He threw back the shot and then took a pull on the beer. He sat the beer down, grunted and said, “Damn. That’ll put the snakes back in the basket for a while.”

  Jake sipped his beer. What he really wanted was a cigarette. Two days without one at this point and maybe he was on the verge of kicking the habit. Funny the way things worked out. Both of them thinking about Pam and now he was sitting here with the husband of a woman he’d slept with, a chance encounter working into his day.

  Jake looked at Alex and waited.

  Alex said, “You’re wondering why I’m here talking to you? Coincidence? Or divine intervention?”

  “Could be it’s a small town and not many destinations.”

  Alex shrugged. “Anyway, here we are, you and me, like a couple of old buddies when basically we never really liked each other.”

  “I don’t dislike you.”

  “No?” Alex surprised.

  “Don’t really like you much, either.”

  Alex laughed. “That so? Sometimes the things that may or may not be true or the things that are said are not said are the things that dictate relationships and shared histories.”

  Surprising insight for one so medicated.

  Jake said, “You get kind of lyrical when you’re drinking. Never knew that about you. I get jumped by your little brother and fatty, then your Father and Kellogg decide I need to get out of town by sundown and you know, it sets a man to watching his back. Gage is dead. I’m not okay with that. Someone shot at me and stole my truck. Maybe you have a better candidate for that than I do.”

  “You got something going with my little brother has nothing to do with me. I can’t help the way he is. He’s a pain in the ass and does what he wants and imagines no collateral damage.”

  Jake didn’t miss the mention of Tommy.

  Jake saying now, “Life is full of consequences we don’t see c
oming.”

  “Is that a double entendre? Or you making threats?”

  “I was going for philosophical but can’t always pull it off.” Jake leaned back and considered Alex. Where was this guy headed?

  Alex took another drink then said, “Things are in motion I can’t stop and maybe don’t want to do that. It’s not really personal. You’re in the wrong place at the wrong time. Not by design, for sure, but – .” He stopped talking, looking inward, losing his train of thought.

  “What things are in motion, Alex?”

  Alex waved a finger in the air. “No. You don’t get to do that. There’s nothing diabulous...malev—” Struggling with his speech. “No, wait, nothing. There’s not anything going on should bother you. That’s the straight of it.”

  “You know, Alex, whatever’s happening around here starts with Gage getting killed a week after you fire him. You don’t see that. The way things are you don't get to call it off because you're liquored up and spouting cracker barrel observations.” Rising up inside of him again. “Gage was my friend. That’s in the way of things and it’s not going away until I learn what happened.”

  “I don’t know what happened to him.”

  “You don’t know how he died?”

  “Well, yes, I know that. Wish it hadn’t happened.”

  “You’re aware of the unhappy coincidence?”

  Alex nodded, his head drooping momentarily.

  Jake saying now, “Why did you fire him?”

  “That’s business. And, private. We don’t get everything in this world.” He blinked and said, “And you don’t get that.”

  “Was it because of Pam?”

  “The fuck’re you saying?” Woke the boy up.

  “You know what I’m saying. Did you suspect Gage was bopping your wife?”

  That one hit the mark. Jake meant to do that. For a brief moment, Alex was sober, sitting up and starting to speak, but the moment passed.

  “You’re full of shit.”

  “You may be right about that. There are people believe you fired Gage for personal reasons.”

  Alex’s eye looked away. He took a deep breath then another hit on his drink. “I don’t know what assholes think. When was I placed in charge of everybody’s problems? Hell with that.” Alex squeezed his eyes shut, then opened one to look at Jake. “What I really want to talk about right now are women and their effect on plant growth.”

  “You want to talk about women? Or just want to talk about Pam?”

  “I’m asking,” Alex said, trying to pull himself together to say what he wanted to say. “You ever have hope that one day it’ll all come together, and things will be peaceful, and you’ll be as happy as you think you want to be?”

  “I think you have to work real hard on that one.”

  Alex pounded the table, waving a hand in the air, and said, “Hank, another round here, dammit. We’re dying of thirst and starved for answers to life’s mysteries.”

  Jake could see Hank bristle. Jake held up a hand and nodded at the proprietor. Hank brought the drinks and gave Alex a hard look, then glared at Jake. Good ol’ Hank.

  The booze was taking over and doing the talking and thinking for Alex which was good for gaining information but sometimes the information was spotty. Alex had that faraway look as if not focusing on the now. Jake wanted to hear from him. Keep him talking by nodding in affirmation.

  Alex said, “I used to be fine. Things were good. Had girlfriends and didn’t care whether they loved me or not because I for sure did not love them or even care if they were around. Then, there was Pam. She’s the whole package. Looks, brains and can turn your day around she smiles at you. You left town, thought now she’s mine forever. Next thing I know she was married to some frat-rat. You know those guys, little chickenshits and their rush parties, not knowing they’re pussies. I told everyone I didn't care, she was a bitch and I stayed drunk for about six months, jumped every girl I could get in my truck or my bed. Things were fine and I’d more or less forgotten about her.” He took another pull on the beer, wiping his mouth with a sleeve, then continued. “She came back, sonuvabitch, she came back and suddenly she was mine.” He stopped talking and looked off in the distance. “Well, as much as she could...belong to anyone. Now I wonder if I can get back to being fine.”

  Alex’s head drooped. He looked at Jake as if wanting a response.

  “If you’re looking for ‘happily ever after’ you married the wrong woman. Pam is about Pam being happy.”

  Alex leaned forward in his seat and jutted his chin out, but the boozy smile remained on his face. “I should be offended but—” He belched, and his eyes were rheumy “—there is some truth in it.”

  “An observation.” Actually Jake was seeing a side of Alex he never noticed before or maybe he just didn’t care to see it. He sort of liked this Alex. Alex had always been intelligent. An honor roll student in high school. Popular most of that time. Rich always. But maybe not that happy. “You happy, Alex?”

  “What?”

  “You happy way things turned out?”

  “I don’t know. That takes a lot of thinking. How do you know if you’re happy or not? You know any happy people?”

  “I think happy people know they’re happy.” Wondering about himself. “While I do understand your feelings and am aware of the power that woman has to influence the direction of a man’s day, I can’t help you with any of this.”

  Alex’s head lolled slightly, and his eyes were unfocused. “Well fuck you then.” Pointing at Jake with a listless hand. “Fuck you and fuck your pal, Burnell. I'm unhappy because I want Pam. I cheat on her for revenge for what she’s done to my psyche.” His psyche? Alex scarred in a way Jake couldn’t see but it was there. In a way that Jake shared with him.

  Alex still talking saying, “'Cause my head is jammed-up with her and sometimes she is all I can think about while I’m doing this other thing which is living my fucking life, whatever that is. And now I’m stuck...between hating your guts because of her and realizing...not your fault."

  “Nothing is left of you, each time you see her,” Jake said, remembering the Catullus poem he’d memorized from college. Citing now the entire phrase, “’Godlike the man who sits at her side, who watches and catches that laughter which softly tears me to tatters: nothing is left of me, each time I see her’.”

  Alex stared at Jake for a moment, his eyes unfocused. He began twisting the Tiger eye ring. A habit.

  “Damn. Besides, being a poet.” Alex put both hands on the table and said, “Are you fucking my wife?”

  “Getting to it now, are we? I get the feeling you want me to say something to ease your mind. But I don’t have any of that either way. If your head is in a dark place, it’s none of my doing.” He leaned back in his chair and said, “Ever watch heat lightning out over the horizon and the thunder rolling in behind it? Well, sometimes that’s all life is. If we’re in each other’s way, which is not my purpose, that’s just something that’s rolling in. You can watch it, but you can’t stop it.”

  “Clarify for those of us who might be, you know, drunk.”

  “I can’t help what’s coming. Doesn’t mean I don’t sympathize with what you’re going through, just that it’s there.”

  Alex was listening but Jake could see a man lost in thoughts colored by alcohol, talking to himself as if Jake wasn’t there. “Nothing’s like it used to be, like it’s supposed to be. You know,” Alex said, to his beer glass. “She never cries.” He looked up at Jake. “You ever notice? Never seen her cry. Doesn’t even tear up.”

  Jake thought about that one. Alex was right. Thinking of a line from a song. She never cries like a lover.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Leaving the bar Jake walked to the rear parking lot where his rental was parked. He saw the two men get out of a car and walk his way. They were wearing light jackets against the night air. Not locals. They shut off their vehicle which had been expelling a cloud of smoke, suggesting they ha
d been sitting there for some time with the engine idling.

  Thick wrists and heavily knuckled hands. He’d seen men like this before. It was one of those things he knew instinctively after dozens of felony arrests. Thuggus Americanus. Some of them ended up in Texas prisons or in the county lock-up. Some of them he’d put there himself. The type of bar room toughs found in many towns. No skills save a propensity for violence.

  They stopped and looked at him.

  “Hey,” said one of them, a dark-haired guy same height as Jake. The other guy was shorter and built like a professional wrestler. “You know a good place to eat in town.” Walking in Jake’s direction as he said it. If he really wanted to know the answer there was no need to walk towards him.

  Jake looked at them and said, “Stay where you are.”

  The pair took two more steps in Jake’s direction.

  Jake said, “I mean it.”

  The men stopped.

  “What’s the problem?” asked the dark-haired man. “Where’s that southern hospitality, Tex?”

  “I’m all out.”

  Tex, huh? Information going out and that was all Jake needed to know.

  The man said, “Wait a minute. Want to show you – ” The man reached inside his jacket. Jake interrupted the man’s movement by producing the Taurus and holding it down by his side where they could see it and be able to achieve an understanding of their situation.

  “I see the inside of your coat,” Jake said. “There’s going to be a loud noise.”

  “What the hell is going on?” said the man. “There’s no reason to be unfriendly. I don’t have a gun. Shit.”

  “Peel your jackets,” Jake said, making a languid movement with his gun in the men’s direction. “Slowly. Either do it or put your faces on the ground and we’ll go from there.”

  “You gonna shoot us?”

  “Not if you get those jackets off.”