Keeping Our Home (Holliday Book 2)

by Sarah R. Silas

  She walked over to Keith's table, her boots clicking against the floor. She put on her best swagger, swigging the beer between two fingers. "Where the fuck is Sally?" she said through gritted teeth, coming up to Keith's table.

  "Lil', what the hell you doin' here?" asked Keith, surprised. He sat with two young henchmen. He kicked the legs of one of their chairs and the kid sprang up and offered it to Lilith.

  She took it, the scene playing it out similarly to when they had met a few days ago. She still didn't know how much of a real gang leader Keith was, but she thought it was damn peculiar any which way. "Thanks," she muttered at the kid, who ran off across the roadhouse, probably thankful to be away from Keith.

  "To answer your question, Sally ain't here. She had car trouble to take care," said Keith.

  "Yeah, I know she had fuckin' car trouble," said Lilith.

  "What's wrong baby girl? Ricky's death got ya down?"

  "How do you know about that?"

  "Who doesn't fuckin' know about it? And besides, I know everything, especially on these sorts of things," he said, swigging his beer. He motioned to the kid who had scurried off: he needed more beer.

  "What sorta things?" she said, staring at him, trying to steer the conversation back to Sally. But the way he had said it, it seemed like he definitely knew more about this than he was letting on.

  "Ya know, I know things. Best to leave it at that," he muttered. He was wearing his leather vest and leather chaps. He tugged at the vest slightly, pulling it closer to him.

  "You cold?"

  "Nah, just got this thing detailed, ya know. It was gettin' grimy, what with Sally screamin' and all. Ya know how it goes."

  "That's fuckin' gross," she muttered, finishing her beer. Keith jerked his thumb at the kid, telling him to bring another one.

  "So what brought ya all the way out to see me? Ricky's dead, and that's that."

  She fished into her pockets and took out the note. She slid it cross the table. "Found this on my dashboard at Jim's," she said. "I got pretty pissed off, all in all. Especially considering you screamed about how no one was supposed to fuck with me and all."

  He chuckled, taking the note. "Yeah, no one. I think that message is clearer now, ya know?" He opened the note and his face fell. He scowled and got up from his chair. He walked over to the bartender, grabbed a bottle of whiskey and poured himself a shot. He then took a fistful of the kid's shirt, whispered something in his ear and let him go. The kid scurried through the doors and disappeared. Keith gave the paper to another vested, and this time heavily bearded, lackey and walked back to the table, bringing two beers with him.

  "What the fuck was that all about?" she asked. She hadn't expected such explicit and angered action.

  "I try to keep a clean, orderly house, ya know? I try my best to pick and keep the right people around me. That's what everyone is supposed to do Lilith. And sometimes those close to you betray you, and they need to be taught a lesson," he said, chugging half of the beer and slamming it onto the table. His mood had distinctly shifted.

  "Don't you fuckin' hurt her," she said, glaring. "I brought it up so that you could know she was threatening me, but not for you to fuckin' hurt her."

  "She'll get a talkin' to," he muttered. "That's for sure."

  Lilith felt bad, her anger from before melting away. She thought bringing it up with Keith would resolve it. But he didn't seem like he was going to talk to her, he seemed like he could murder her. And then it all became clear to Lilith.

  Maybe Keith killed Ricky. Maybe that's why he knows so much about it all. And it would fit. He knew that Ricky had stolen from the Hollidays, and he said that anyone who did that would be on his shit list. But she hadn't taken it seriously that he would actually kill anyone. Especially Ricky. Poor, poor Ricky, she thought.

  She took a swig of beer, the both of them sitting silently and contemplating their own lives. She made the final connection: if Keith was the one who killed Ricky, then Clark had to be innocent. He just had to be. But none of it was clear, she realized. She didn't really know the truth. And she wasn't a sleuth, either. She would have to tell Sheriff Holt and get his deputies to ask Keith about his activities.

  She stopped herself from going down a fantasy path of falling into Clark's arms. They weren't a couple, or an item. There was undeniable attraction that, it was clear, they both felt. But, she reminded herself forcefully, one night didn't mean anything, and she should keep her options open. There were many eligible guys. Some of them happened to here, and there were many others in Boston. She decidedly buried her feelings for Clark deeper as she set her eyes on her ex-boyfriend, his mouth upturned slightly, watching her think.

  "Can you promise me you won't hurt her?" asked Lilith, putting her beer down and getting up. "I just sorta guess. Look. It was childish to come tattle on her or whatever. But I did it, and that's that. Can't take it back. But don't hurt her or anything. Please?"

  Keith stared at her for a moment, and then nodded. "I'll see what I can do," he said. "But I already said that no one was gonna fuck with you. And now someone in my goddamn crew did it. I'm gonna have to figure something out."

  Lilith nodded and walked away.

  "Hey Lil'," yelled Keith.

  She turned around. "Yeah?"

  He picked up the beer bottle she had left behind. "This count as a date?" he asked, smiling. He held up his hand, flashing a deuce and sticking his tongue between it.

  She smirked and walked out. Even if Clark wasn't innocent, she was never crawling back into Keith’s arms ever again.

  ~~~

  Marty had been sitting in the bar for long enough to notice and realize that the cute guy at the end had been glancing at him. The guy wore a red plaid shirt and dirty jeans. He must also be a ranch hand, but unlike Marty he had greasier and scruffier hair. Marty liked to keep clean shaven and showered more than once a day, not just to keep clean, but because he found that showers gave him time to think about the day, about his life, and sometimes about things which he hoped would become hobbies, like cycling or pottery.

  But this evening, he sat in the town's only bar off the beaten path, The Other Way, in the same dirty, chipped stool that he'd occupied for the last few years. They owner/barkeep, Joel, gave him free drinks sometimes, and they had gotten to know each other well. Joel didn't mind that Marty was gay, and although Marty rarely found any action with the bar's patrons, Joel didn't mind either way. Marty thought Joel was an upstanding guy, but maybe that was because he hadn't expected it.

  Marty had brought a book with him, some trash chick lit that he had found at the supermarket. He read it, sipping on the beers that Joel kept coming. He was having a good night, and with the guy passing glances his way, he knew the night might get better. He took out his pack of cigarettes, pushing them forward on the bar, hoping that the guy might get the message.

  He waited a moment, then took the pack and walked outside, lighting a cigarette and leaning against the outside wall. Joel didn't really mind smoking inside, but he asked politely if all bar patrons could smoke outside. It was a polite thing to do, he thought. Joel was a kind barkeep as it was, and it was basically his only rule, besides making sure that everyone kept the bathroom as clean as possible.

  Right on cue, as Marty took another drag, the guy came outside as well. "Hey," he said.

  "Great pickup line," smirked Marty.

  "What?" said the man, smiling.

  "You know what I'm sayin'."

  "Gimme a smoke."

  "Name, first."

  "Gregg."

  Marty threw the pack over. Gregg took a cigarette and lit it. "I've been seeing you around here, been hearing things," said Gregg.

  "Oh yeah? What sorta things?"

  "That you're ya know," said Gregg, motioning.

  "What?"

  "You're down for a good fuck," said Gregg.

  "Oh is that what they say?" A pair of headlights flashed in the corner of Marty's eye and Pistol's truck rolled into
the parking lot. Marty immediately knew that the moment was about to be ruined. Whenever, wherever, Pistol showed up, anything hot and sexy was immediately ruined. That guy, Marty thought, had a way of killing even the most ferocious boner. It really had to be his superpower.

  Pistol got of the truck, slamming the door, motioning to Marty. "Hey! Finally fuckin' found ya. I've been tryin' to get a hold of ya."

  "This yer ex?" asked Gregg. He ran his hand through his greasy brown hair, tousling it. Marty tried to ignore his movements, reminding himself that even though he hadn't been laid in a while, he was probably going to be fine. He could just take care of himself when he got home or something. Even if he got Gregg's number, he just wasn't that much into stranger sex. Probably, anyway.

  "Nah, just a friend of mine with impeccable timing," muttered Marty. "Can I get your number, maybe I'll call you later?"

  "Yeah," said Gregg. He took out his card and handed it to Marty. "Call me, I'm in town for a few days."

  Marty looked at the card as Gregg walked back into the bar. Apparently, the guy was a tractor salesman. At least he was gainfully employed, thought Marty. "What the fuck you want?" he asked, turning his attention to Pistol who stood idly next to his truck.

  "Well, before I begin. How's your friend?"

  "You just stopped me from getting free sex, which, if I recall correctly, neither of us is going to be getting anytime soon."

  "Oh, was that. I didn't mean. Oh fuck. I'm sorry man," said Pistol, trying peer inside the bar to catch a glimpse of Gregg. "I didn't know he was your guy or anything."

  "He ain't my anything. So, friend, tell me what the fuck you want that you tracked me down at my bar for." He threw the pack of cigarettes to Pistol who took one out and lit it.

  "Yeah so," said Pistol. "I'm working at the old Kent property now. It's owned by this new conglomerate called Diamondback or some such bullshit. Ya know what I'm talkin' about?"

  "Yeah. They just got into town. I'll tell ya man, energy and mining conglomerates are a scary fuckin' thing. Putting family properties right outta business."

  "Yeah, well. I was talking to one of the guys who's been working there longer than I have. Apparently, Diamondback is going to be buying up a lot of ranches in this area. Lilith might get an offer," said Pistol matter-of-factly. He was really proud that he could relay this information to Marty.

  "Fuck. You tell Lilith yet?"

  "Not yet. I got scared, because she might freak out, and the old man might freak out and just keel over. He’s worked his entire life for what he calls his ‘birthright.’ I didn't want that to be my fault ya know?"

  "You're a fucking idiot, is what you are," said Marty. "You're going to have to tell Lilith about this. They have to be prepared. Maybe the old man can get some of the owners together and create like a co-op or something and save the entire countryside."

  "That would make a good movie."

  "Yeah. I dunno. Lilith would do a good job at something like that. Everyone around here likes her," said Marty, staring at Pistol pointedly.

  "Yeah," said Pistol. He pushed his own feelings for Lilith deeper inside. He didn't want to deal with it right now, or hopefully ever. "I was hoping, maybe you'd tell her."

  "Fuck, man. Alright," said Marty. "I'll be the one to kill the old man." They both laughed. "How's Kelsey?"

  "I just finished talking to her. We were just hanging out, again."

  "Ya know how weird it is that you're paying a prostitute to just hangout and talk to you? Ya know how weird that is?"

  "Well, I'm thinking about broaching the topic of sex, and stuff," said Pistol.

  "You're considering talking to a prostitute, who you are already paying, if she wouldn't also mind having sex with you? Disregarding the fact that it's her job," said Marty.

  "Well, yeah. Seems the respectful thing to do."

  "You're one fuckin' character, man," said Marty. "Wanna grab a beer?"

  "Yeah, that'd be great."

  For whatever reason, Lilith's return had made them friends, and although neither would admit it, it was beneficial to both of them. It made the world less lonely, the sky less big, to have a friend who cared, even just a little.

  ~~~

  Doc Mulreedy climbed out of his truck, his back aching, his legs burning from even the smallest exertion. He wasn't the kind of man to mention it to anyone, instead choosing to light another cigarette and keep on carrying on. One day, he knew God would come for him and he would meet his maker. Up until that point, there was no point in caring about every ache and pain. He was still alive, after all.

  He looked up at the Holliday main house, reveling in the similarities between his failing body and the house's crumbling nature. Both of them were on their last leg, and who knew how long either would last. He had always felt a kinship with the house and with the Hollidays. He climbed the stone steps and casually opened the door and walked in.

  Even with their quarreling, he had grown up with Saul and had visited the house often. In their younger days it was completely normal for him to waltz in, put his feet up and drink a beer, all while Saul slept upstairs. He had always been welcome, and he hoped he would be till the day he finally passed on.

  But today he had come to the main house with a different purpose. He needed to see Lilith, to square out the details for the question he had asked her days earlier, and why he still hadn't gotten a response.

  He walked through the halls, finally finding Lilith in the kitchen, sitting on her favorite stool and staring out at the vast property and numerous cows out the window.

  "Penny for your thoughts?" he asked, leaning against the door frame. He had watched Lilith grow up, he had seen her first boyfriends, even shared in some of the first tears that sprang forth from vaccines and sickness. His life had always been tied with the Hollidays. When her mother died, Saul had asked him to help dress the body, because he was family and would care for it more than the mortician ever would. It was an awkward request, but he did the best he could.

  "Doc!" she said, turning around and smiling at him. "How goes?"

  "Was just about to ask you the same question," he said. He grunted as he sat down on a stool.

  "You ok?"

  "Just the ole bones acting up," he said. He took out his pack and lit a cigarette. He was the only person allowed to smoke in the main house, and it was an honor he didn't take lightly. Someone had left a mug of water and he used it as an ashtray, making sure to leave as little mess as possible.

  "What brings ya on by?" she asked. Lilith had been contemplating all the events that had happened. But mostly she was trying not to feel bad about what might happen to Sally. She wasn't a bad person, probably a little too jealous about whatever feelings Keith had for her, but she didn't deserve to be hurt. She had tried to see if maybe she had read the note wrong, and Sally had in fact been trying to warn her of something. She didn't know if that was plausible, though. What was there to warn her about? Maybe whoever killed Ricky might come after her? That was a disturbing thought.

  "Well, I've been planning out somethings," said Doc Mulreedy, pulling her out of her paranoid and complicated thoughts. "And I need to know if you're going to take me up on my offer. Thing is, Lilith, I dunno if you know this, but I'm an old man."

  She laughed, looking at the skin around Doc's eyes crinkle. "Yeah, I know."

  "And I've been thinking about what's next and whatnot. And I think it's time for me to retire. Really this time. I'd like to get out of this place for a while, maybe see some stuff, look up some people I've lost contact with," he said.

  "A lady friend?" she asked, winking.

  "Nah. At this point, most of the people I know like that, well, I know what they're up to," he said. "Got their places marked and everything, right where I left them."

  "That's pretty morbid," she muttered.

  "Yeah, well, I need an answer. I wanna take this trip before I get too old to take trips," he said. "I want to take five cartons of smokes with me, and when I have fo
ur packs left, I know it's time to come home."

  "You're gonna choke to death somewhere," she said. "Then I'm gonna have to come get ya and drag ya back."

  "Something like that," he said.

  "So you want an answer."

  "No kid, I need an answer."

  "How long do I have?"

  "Soon would be nice," he said. He got up and went to the refrigerator, looking for a beer. He rummaged through the fridge, not knowing if he should feel bad for putting her on the spot like this. He didn't really expect her to take the practice off his hands, because the little he did know of the woman she'd become, she didn't want to sit still. He knew she didn't want to stay at home. And quite frankly, she was smart enough to do amazing work wherever she ended up. But in his heart, she was his daughter, and her place was to take over his practice, as much as Saul wanted her to take over the ranch.

  "I can't tell you today," she whispered, closing her eyes, tearing springing forth unbidden. "I want these answers as much as you do, but I just don't have them."

  He took out two beers, making sure they weren’t some sort of craft bullshit, and putting one in front of her. "I didn't say right now," he lied. He really wanted to know today, he wanted to book his tickets, he wanted to figure out his own mind before the unexpected end.

  She dragged the envelope from Boston over and passed it to him. He opened it, his eyes scanning the page, and he sighed. "So this is what it's about eh?" he said. "This is a good opportunity."

  "Yeah," she replied, wiping tears from her eyes. "It's a damn good opportunity. And I would be really damn good at it, too."

  "Yeah. I feel like you're telling me your answer, aren't you?"

  "I don't know yet. I haven't even replied to them. And I gotta do that soon," she said. "I have to make all these big decisions, about life, about my happiness, about whatever the fuck it is that I want out of this life. I have to make those decisions now for fuck's sake."

  "Yeah, welcome to adulthood. Welcome to the end," he muttered. He took a long drink from his beer. He was thankful that, at the very least, Saul's taste in beer hadn't changed. He could still enjoy a cold one at the Holliday house. "What do you think you need to make this decision?"