by Steph Post
“Yeah, sure. Now you’re not drinking or what?”
Judah squinted at Burke to keep the bartender’s face in focus and then dropped his gaze back to the glass. He pushed it away, slopping half of the liquid onto the bar. It mixed into a rancid puddle with the cigarette ashes.
“It wasn’t his fault, Burke. He didn’t do nothing. Just being Benji. Same old Benji.”
Burke began to mop up the mess on the bar with a ripped piece of towel.
“I think you need to stop talking, Judah.”
Judah ignored him and began fumbling in his pocket for his wallet.
“Just same as always. Never doing nothing wrong. Just Benji. But it wasn’t his fault. It was our fault. It was Sherwood’s fault. That damn, stupid, motorcycle…”
Burke lurched across the bar and grabbed Judah’s forearm with surprising strength. He jerked Judah close to him and whispered.
“Shut up, Judah. Just shut up.”
Judah seemed to think about this for a moment and then threw back his head and laughed. Burke released him and Judah leaned back and slapped his palms on the bar. Burke continued to wipe the bar, furiously now, and kept his voice down.
“What’s so funny?”
Judah slid off the barstool and steadied himself.
“You didn’t just call Alma.”
Burke tossed the rag into the sink and crossed his arms in front of himself.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
Judah laughed again. He clumsily grabbed his cigarettes and cellphone from the bar and stuffed them into his pockets.
“Don’t know why I’m surprised. How much time you think I got for they get here?”
The bartender raised his hands up in front of himself defensively.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
Judah reeled away from the bar.
“It’s okay, old man. I’ll try to make it to the parking lot for they get here. Spare you the scene.”
Burke opened his mouth as if to say something else, but clamped it shut when the back door to the bar swung open. Judah turned around, stumbled, caught himself and then smiled grimly. He heard Burke mumble that he was sorry, but didn’t look back as he walked out to meet Levi and Sherwood, waiting for him.
NO ONE would meet Ramey’s eyes when she walked into The Ace in the Hole. She let the heavy front door slam shut behind her and although many heads were raised at the noise, the patrons at the bar and the surrounding tables quickly turned back to their intense contemplation of warm beers and scratched wood surfaces. Ramey adjusted the strap of her purse higher up on her shoulder and crossed her arms. She stood there a moment longer, beginning to understand what the silence and averted gazes meant, and then called out to Burke across the hushed bar.
“You want to tell me where he is or do I gotta raise hell to find out on my own?”
Burke glanced up briefly from the pint glass he was vigorously polishing. His voice was clipped.
“You need to go home, Ramey.”
Ramey pursed her lips, but didn’t move. She looked around the bar again, almost every face a familiar one, but realized that no one was going to help. The jukebox had quit playing a little while back and the television in the corner was muted. The only sounds in the bar were the scuffling of nervous boots against the cement floor and the careful clink of glasses and beer bottles being carefully set down. The quiet was suffocating, but Ramey was prepared to wait it out.
“I mean it, Ramey. I ain’t kidding. This ain’t no place for you tonight. Just go on home.”
Ramey continued to watch the hunkered old men and washed out winos at the tables.
“Where is he?”
For a brief moment she caught two older men, cousins whom she regularly fed fried chicken and biscuits at Buddy’s, look up at one another and then glance involuntarily toward the back door. That was all she needed. She gripped the strap of her purse in one hand and strode toward the back of the bar, ignoring Burke’s warning.
“I ain’t gonna tell you again, Ramey. Do everyone a favor and just go on home.”
She didn’t look back at him.
“Shut up.”
Ramey tried to push on the narrow emergency exit door, but it was stuck. Without hesitating, she kicked hard at the bottom of it and stepped out into the dark. She could hear them before she could see them and she bolted around Sherwood’s parked pickup truck. She gasped and leaned on the still warm metal hood to keep from slipping in the dirt.
Sherwood stood a few feet away in the shadows from the orange streetlight, arms crossed, head titled down and eyes expressionless as he watched one of his sons beat the shit out of the other.
He acknowledged Ramey’s presence without even looking up at her.
“Go back inside.”
The shock that had taken Ramey’s breath away for a moment was fleeting and she began to yell. Levi took a step back when he heard Ramey’s voice. Unlike Sherwood, whose face was a mask of business-like calm, Levi was sweaty and his mouth was twisted in a gruesome sneer. His eyes were blazing when he set them on Ramey, but he controlled himself for a moment. He also kept himself squarely in-between Ramey and Judah, who was still curled up on the ground, clutching his stomach. Ramey couldn’t see too much of what they had done to him, but she could tell that there was blood smeared across the side of his face and along the torn sleeve of his shirt. His eyes were open, but he was staring straight ahead. He didn’t look at her. Levi glanced from Ramey to Sherwood, questioning what to do. Ramey was trembling, her eyes wide with fear and outrage, but she remained where she was. Sherwood sighed at her in disgust.
“I gotta tell you again? Go on back inside. This ain’t your concern. This is family business.”
Ramey ripped her eyes away from Judah’s bleeding face and confronted Sherwood.
“Bullshit.”
Levi took a step toward her, but Judah raised his head a few inches from the ground and spoke to her first.
“Stay out of it, Ramey.”
She kept her eyes on Sherwood.
“No.”
Judah swallowed thickly, but kept his head up.
“Go back inside.”
“No.”
Sherwood’s eyes were twinkling and his lips curled up into a smirk. Judah wheezed and then spat out toward Ramey.
“For Christ’s sake, get your dumb ass back inside. What’s wrong with you?”
Sherwood threw back his head and laughed.
“That’s great. A lover’s quarrel to add insult to injury. That’s just classic.”
He nodded and Levi swung around and kicked Judah hard in the gut. Levi grasped Judah by the shoulders, as if lifting him up for another punch to the face, and Ramey didn’t have to think about it twice. Both Sherwood and Levi had their eyes on Judah and she reached into her purse and wrapped her fingers around the gun. She yanked it free and pointed it toward the back of Levi’s head. Her finger was resting on the 9mm’s trigger.
“I ain’t gonna raise my voice this time. Back off.”
Levi glanced at her over his shoulder and saw the gun glinting in the streetlight. He dropped Judah in the dirt and turned around to face her. Sherwood didn’t flinch.
“You got some balls, girly, but we both know you ain’t shooting nobody.”
She kept her arm stretched out and thumbed the safety off. The gun barrel was aimed right between Levi’s eyes and she didn’t waver.
“You want to keep going and find out?”
Sherwood laughed at her again, but motioned for Levi to step away. He backed up and wiped his bloody knuckles on the thighs of his jeans. Sherwood moved toward Judah and Ramey switched her aim to him, but Sherwood raised his hands up in defense.
“Easy there, darlin, I just got a last word for my son.”
Sherwood walked over to Judah and leaned down. Judah kept his eyes on the dirt.
“You better take my meaning to heart, boy.”
Sherwood stood up and walked past Ramey. She h
ad lowered the gun, but still had her finger on the trigger. He came within an inch of grazing her shoulder and she tensed up.
“And you better start minding your own business, missy thing. You ain’t no Cannon. And your daddy and me being friends back when he was still around or my son tapping your ass don’t make you part of the family, neither. You remember that next time it crosses your mind to point a firearm in my direction.”
Ramey clenched her jaw, but didn’t respond. She waited until Sherwood and Levi had gotten into the truck and driven off before she exhaled. She tucked the gun back into her purse and let the bag drop to the ground.
She crouched down beside Judah and touched the torn sleeve of his shirt. The smell of sweat, blood and alcohol was nauseating, but it didn’t appear that Judah had any mind to get up on his own, so she leaned down further and slid an arm underneath his head. She wrapped her other arm around his waist and hoisted him into a sitting position. His head was loose on his neck and Ramey wasn’t sure if it was the beating or the fact that he was piss drunk that was making him so difficult. She braced herself and finally managed to pull him to his feet. Judah swayed and then stumbled against her, blood from the cut over his eye smearing against her bare shoulder. She gripped him again and forced him to stand up straight. He wouldn’t look at her, so she grabbed his chin and jerked his face toward her. She made him look her in the eye.
“You ever call me a dumbass again and I’ll shoot you first. Got it?”
Judah’s blank expression didn’t change, but he slowly nodded his head. He swayed again and almost slipped back to the ground. Ramey groaned and picked up her bag.
“Come on.”
She slung his arm around her neck and led him away.
The nails of freezing cold water driving against Judah’s face were a welcome contrast to the fevered headache and nausea he had awoken to. Judah opened his mouth and let the drops of water hit against his sticky teeth and dry tongue. He hadn’t looked in the mirror before stumbling half-blind into the shower, but as he began to pay attention to his senses underneath the muting blanket of his hangover, he could feel the sting above his left eye. He pressed his hand to his forehead and looked down at the thin tendrils of watery blood on his fingers. He touched his skin again and winced as he probed the cut. Judah slowly turned the temperature in the shower up and then inspected the rest of his body. Mottled bruises wrapped around his torso and decorated his right arm and shoulder. He inhaled and felt an intense stab of pain along his right side. He knew that at least one rib must be cracked. The pain brought another wave of nausea crashing into him and he steadied himself against the plastic shower wall. He closed his eyes and let the warm water envelop him. He didn’t want to open his eyes again.
Eventually, the water began to run cold and Judah knew that he had to face whatever was waiting for him outside the bathroom door. He had woken up in an empty bed and had not even ventured to see if Ramey was still in the apartment before he had quickly disentangled himself from the sweat soaked sheets and staggered toward the relief of the shower. Judah stepped out of the low plastic tub and wrapped a damp towel around his waist. He ran his hands through his wet hair a few times but still didn’t look in the mirror. Judah paused for a moment with his hand on the door handle, but knew that whatever he was going to have to deal with, he deserved.
Ramey was sitting at the kitchen table, a cigarette in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. He didn’t look at her and she didn’t look at him as he walked around her to the coffee maker on the kitchen counter and slowly poured himself a cup. He turned around and looked at the back of Ramey’s head. It was tilted slightly up as she kept her gaze focused outside the kitchen window and he could tell that her jaw was clenched. He knew exactly what expression she had on her face. He knew her. She was pissed. She was volatile. She was going to be uncompromising. He gripped the coffee cup in both hands and sat down across from her.
She stared at him, her hazel eyes unflinching, her mouth set in a tight line. Judah’s gaze fluttered back and forth between the stove behind her and the ceramic Merry Christmas from Sunny Florida! mug in her hand. He felt the nausea rise again, but did his best to ignore it. Finally, he took a deep breath and looked her in the eyes. He needed to get this over with.
“I don’t remember exactly what I said to you last night, but I do remember you saying something about shooting me if I ever called you a dumbass again.”
Ramey flicked her cigarette between her fingers, scattering ashes into the brown glass ashtray between them.
“Something like that.”
“I’m sorry.”
Ramey stared at him hard for a moment and he held her scrutinizing gaze. She blew a final stream of smoke out of the corner of her mouth and crushed out the cigarette.
“I know. And you’re bleeding again. That cut must’ve opened back up. Hold on.”
Ramey stood up from the table and returned with a tin first aid kit from the bathroom cabinet. Without saying anything further, she began pouring peroxide and dabbing at his forehead with a cotton ball. Judah grimaced when she pinched the skin and pressed a butterfly bandage over the wound, but busied himself with trying to light one of her cigarettes while she worked on his face. Ramey took his chin in her hand, turning his face back forth a couple of times, and seemed satisfied.
“I don’t think you’ll need stiches.”
“Good.”
Ramey sat back across from him and stretched her arms out, palms upward.
“You want to tell me what happened?”
Judah looked down at her palms but didn’t place his hands on hers. She drew back and wrapped her fingers around her coffee cup instead. Judah looked away from her. The sky outside of the kitchen window resembled granite, the clouds flat and oppressive. He knew that if he were to step outside, the humidity would cling to him like a second skin. He turned back to Ramey. She was still staring at him intently and he conceded.
“Benji.”
Ramey nodded.
“I heard. Flipped his truck or something coming home from Limey’s Monday night.”
“Is that what they’re saying?”
“I figured if you were anything like you used to be, you’d be neck deep in a bottle of whiskey, so I came looking for you. I guess Sherwood and Levi got to you first.”
Judah examined the burning cherry at the end of his cigarette.
“Yeah.”
They sat in silence. Judah finished his smoke and ground it out. With nothing else to occupy their hands, they both gripped their coffee cups as if their lives depended on it. Ramey finally made a move.
“So, then. You want to tell me what happened for real?”
He stared at the grains of wood running through the surface of the table.
“Not really, no. It don’t matter.”
Judah squeezed his eyes shut. Deep down, he considered himself to be a righteous man, a man who would go to the death to defend what he believed in, but he was also a man whose family had defined his moral code and convinced him of its legitimacy. He had stayed with Cassie, moved to Colston and been a father to Stella, because his Aunt Imogene had told him that men were supposed to do so. You didn’t run out on a woman carrying your child, even if she was running around with half the town in front of you. He had refused to give up Sherwood and Levi to the judge because Sherwood had told him that blood came before all else. Before God, before the law, before the well-being of anyone outside of the Cannon clan. You never turned your back on your family and you never dared to go against them. Judah had spent his life being swayed by one family member or another and little time working out his own system of judgment. And Ramey knew this.
“So you ain’t never gonna open your eyes, huh? You ain’t never gonna believe that you can think for yourself, that you could maybe have some ideas running contrary to Sherwood’s?”
Ramey pushed back her chair, scraping the legs against the scratched linoleum floor. She stalked across the kitchen and slammed her
cup down into the sink. Judah jerked his head up. She leaned back against the counter, locking her elbows, and gripped the edge. Judah watched her every move.
“Look. I’ve known you Cannon boys my whole life. I grew up with my daddy and your daddy sitting in one or the other of our living rooms cooking up God only knows what illegal, half-assed scheme to make a buck. I grew up with Levi teasing me out of his pickup truck on my way to the bus stop and Benji being all moony-eyed over me wearing a short skirt and you being my best friend in this whole messed up world.”
“Ramey.”
“Shut it. I ain’t finished.”
Judah ducked his chin a little, but still kept his eyes locked with hers.
“Now, I don’t claim to know what’s going on between you and me. But I think it’s something good. Maybe something that was always meant to be or maybe we just got lucky. But I think it’s good. You believe that, too?”
Judah nodded. He could see that Ramey’s knuckles were white. She took a deep breath and looked away; when she spoke again, her voice cracked.
“Then there’s only one way this works, you hear? I don’t know what the hell you got yourself into this time, but I can imagine. And I’m gonna tell you right now, I ain’t gonna be like Susan. With her doublewide and her pile of fat Chihuahuas and her Home Shopping Channel. Strolling around the grocery store with her coupon binder like none of what’s going on with Levi exists. Like it’s all one more show on satellite TV.”
Ramey paused and fixed Judah with a dead level stare.
“So either you tell me everything. Or you tell me nothing and get the hell outta my house.”
Judah rubbed his hand along his stubbled cheek and winced.
“Ramey, it’s complicated.”
She set her jaw.
“No. It ain’t.”
Judah narrowed his eyes at her. She was giving him an ultimatum, but one that would ultimately set him free. He knew it and she knew it and it was up to him to decide what to do about it. They glared at one another until Judah finally swallowed and gave in. He whispered.
“As you please.”
Ramey let go of the edge of the counter. She slid back into her seat and folded her arms across her chest. Judah picked up the pack of cigarettes between them and tapped the corner on the table top.
