The footsteps stopped just outside my door and a fist pounded three times, slow and steady.
Shit, at least they had the courtesy to knock.
You’re kinder men than me, fellas. Fucking dumber, but kinder.
I let my hand holding the blade fall to my side as I made my way to the door. Looked like there was going to be some more bloodshed and sweat left on this town, but what could I do? Trouble finds trouble. That’s just the way it was.
Hell of a day.
Chapter 15
Hunter
The knocks came again, and a little bit louder than before.
I’m coming, motherfuckers. Don’t you worry.
I wrapped my hand around the door handle, took a deep breath, and ripped it open, stepping out of the way of whatever was standing outside and about to come crashing in.
A fist came flying through the door. I caught it with my free hand and lifted the body attached to it into the wall, sending a cheap painting falling to the ground and shattering the frame.
I stood there seething, with my arm pinning the fucker’s head to the wall. I was about to bring the blade up to his neck when I heard him choke his words out.
“Hunter, Hunter, it’s me, son. It’s me, Dennis.”
I looked up and sure enough, the bloodshot eyes bulging out of the terrified face staring back at me were Denny’s. I took my arm off his throat and let him drop back to his feet while he coughed and tried to catch his breath.
“Jesus, boy! What in the hell do you think you’re doing? You damn near choked the life out of me. Not to mention knock my head off while you’re at it. Just what do you think you’re doing?”
I was about to ram a piece of steel in your fucking neck and watch you bleed out, Denny. That’s what I was doing.
“Denny, shit, I’m sorry, man. With those guys at the diner earlier and all, I didn’t know who it was. You didn’t say who it was.”
And you almost fucking paid the price, asshole. Know whose door you’re knocking on, Denny. You saw the punks in the diner. You should know by now.
“You need a stiff drink, son” Denny said, but then caught a whiff of my breath. “Judging by that gasoline coming off you, you’ve already started. Maybe have a few more, finish the bottle. Calm those nerves down a bit. Today was a mess, but don’t let it rattle you, boy.”
Shut your fucking mouth, Denny. I’ve still got a blade behind my back and it’s still got your name on it if you fucking want it to. Rattle me? Those punks in the diner were my pleasure. It’s that waitress with the green eyes and tight pussy that’s got my mind spinning. I’d tell you what we did, but I don’t want to give you a hard on or a heart attack.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right, Denny. Fuck. I’m sorry, man. Rough morning.”
Suddenly a voice behind me spoke up. A voice I recognized.
“Ah, Dennis, he’s been jumpy since the day I met him. Never was the mellow type, Old Hunter.”
Deacon?
I turned around and saw the closest thing I ever had to a friend standing there in my doorway. Shit, he was my friend. He was my only friend and the only person I could stand to be around that I wasn’t about to kill or fuck.
“Deacon, man, what the fuck? I mean how?” I tossed the blade in a pile of clothes so Denny wouldn’t hear it drop, and shook Deacon’s hand. He pulled me in and tapped my back twice with his fist.
“You can run, but you can’t hide, cocksucker,” he whispered, just loud enough that I could hear.
I could feel myself tensing and wished I hadn’t thrown the blade. Did the old man flip Deacon? He was always civilian. Never wanted a piece of our business. Tough as goddamn nails, but always kept a safe distance between himself and anything we did. How did the old man do it?
“Deacon. What the fuck, pal?”
I was wrapping my head around having to bash his fucking brains in right there in front of Denny, when Deacon pulled back and flashed me a smile. The smart ass was fucking with me.
“You going to offer me whatever is coming off your breath, dipshit? It’s a long fucking drive from Boston to Montana and I could use a goddamn drink. I’m pretty sure Dennis here needs a bottle.”
“No, thank you,” Dennis said, almost too eagerly. “No thank you, sir. I’m going to drink downstairs with the regular crew. You boys are too high strung for my liking. If he calms down, swing on by,” Dennis said, motioning to me. “You caught me off guard twice today, boy. There won’t be a third time.”
He walked out my door, trying to salvage whatever scraps of manhood he had left.
Denny, if you’re not fucking careful with your tongue, I will cut you open like a goddamn fish. Keep walking, tough guy. Change those pants. It looked like you shit yourself when I almost slit your goddamn throat.
“All right, Denny. I’ve been warned,” I said with a slight chuckle. “We open at the same time tomorrow, pal?”
“Same time, Hunter. Don’t get too far gone tonight. Swing by the bar for a couple. Deacon, nice meeting you, son. I promised to show you to Hunter’s place and here we are. I think you owe me a couple beers after that nonsense.”
“Yeah, Dennis, thanks a lot, pal. You got a couple coming your way on me, all right?”
Denny just waved his hand at Deacon as he made his way down the stairs.
“He’s a jolly fuck, isn’t he?” Deacon said with a smile. “You should’ve jammed that steel in his neck. You know I wouldn’t have said shit. Anyhow, how about that fucking drink, asshole?”
“Deacon, what the fuck are you doing here, man? How did you fucking find me? This was really fucking stupid, pal. You’re really fucking stupid.”
“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Shut your fucking mouth, asshole. I’m stupid? I’m stupid? You mean like spit in the face of my father, Old Man Donnelly, and then take off with his money to Buttfuck, Montana? That kind of stupid? Because I don’t know anyone fucking dumber than that.”
Deacon was pointing his finger in my face and getting close. He was my boy, but I would knock him the fuck out if he took one step closer. Wouldn’t be the first time we’d come to blows. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Damn good thing too. He was the closest thing I ever had to a challenge in a fight. He could scrap better than anyone else I’d come across. Only guy to ever get the jump on me. He was a good friend.
“I’m not kidding, Deacon. You shouldn’t fucking be here, man. You could get this whole fucking town killed, you dumb fuck.”
“I wasn’t followed, Hunter.”
“How do you know that? How do I fucking know that? How do I know you aren’t selling me out right here and now?”
“You’re my fucking boy, Hunter. We go way, way back. You think I would ever do anything as fucking stupid as giving you up to whoever was trying to kill you? Fuck you, pal. Fuck you. I’m fucking out of here.”
Deacon started walking to the door and turned on his heel, heading back toward me.
“Better yet, how about I knock you the fuck out first, cocksucker? I didn’t drive all the way here just to watch you choke some fat fuck mechanic and then shit talk me like some rookie.”
“Jesus, Deacon. You on your fucking period or something?” He stopped in his tracks.
“The fuck you just say to me?”
“You seem a little easily upset is all. I was wondering if you were having a rag day,” I said, just fucking taunting the poor bastard. A smile broke out over his face as he kept moving toward me, his fists balled, ready to scrap.
“I’m going to beat your fucking ass to a pulp, you big mouthed motherfucker.”
“How about a drink first? You know, before I slap you around and send you packing,” I said, turning my back and walking over to where the bottle of whiskey was sitting.
“Sorry. No glasses, pal. I beg your fancy fucking forgiveness.”
I tossed the bottle to Deacon, he caught it, and drank the rest of it down. What an asshole.
“Well, shit, that tasted like heaven. Your cheap ass keep anything else
lying around?”
I lit a cigarette and bobbed my fist in the air, telling him to go jerk off.
“So touchy, Hunter. Hey, don’t worry. I always come prepared,” he said as he pulled his flask out of his coat pocket and tossed it over to me.
I took a good pull and threw it back.
“Welcome to my humble abode, asshole,” I said. “Now, let’s get fucked up, shall we?”
I pulled another bottle out of the box I had next to the cot.
Some things never fucking changed.
Chapter 16
Kelly
Lucas was asleep.
I closed the book I’d been reading to him and gently slid him off my shoulder and onto his pillow. Maybe ten was too old to still be getting read to before bed, but it had been something our mother had done with us every night. I couldn’t remember when our parents had stopped with me, so I was going to keep the tradition going for as long as Lucas wanted. I needed to give him some sort of normal childhood. He remembered some things about our parents, but he was only three when they died. Sometimes I thought this might make it easier for him, the fact that he only had a few memories of what life was like back then. I was so much older than him. I’d had thirteen years with our parents before he surprised everyone by coming along. The reality was that we were both lost when they were taken. Lucas was robbed of the type of childhood everyone else took for granted, and I was thrust from adolescence into a world where I was the only family he had left.
Thank God for Grace.
I don’t know what I would have done without her. We’d have been taken into foster care, separated from each other. That’s something I couldn’t live with. Families stay together. That’s the one thing I know. It’s hard enough to lose your parents, but to have all family taken away would have been too much. This way we stayed together. This way we kept a tiny bit of normalcy in lives that had been flipped upside down.
I slowly got up, turned out the lamp and made my way out of Lucas’s room, being careful not to let the door creak as I closed it.
I stood in the hallway for a moment, alone.
I had gotten used to being by myself most of the time. It wasn’t what I wanted, but it was what I needed. From the moment the accident happened, my life no longer was just mine. Everything I did in my regular day-to-day was in aid of making things easier for other people. Stay happy around Lucas so he wouldn’t be upset, get good grades in school so no one would worry about me, help Grace around the house and at the diner so she wasn’t overwhelmed by the two young lives she had so selflessly helped from falling through the cracks. While most sixteen year olds were trying to find their place in the world and thinking about their future, I was just focusing on making it through the day, trying to make sure everything ran smoothly for Lucas, Grace, and everyone else around me. The last person I thought of was myself.
Until the night came.
After Lucas had been tucked in to bed and Grace had gone to her room to read before she slept, I was left alone. The day was won and I’d be left trying to fall asleep with the thousands of thoughts that danced through my head.
I mostly thought of my parents. I replayed memories and thought about how different life would be if they hadn’t died in that accident.
I went over that night in my head a thousand times, thinking of how it could have gone differently, how they could have been saved. There was no way though. It was a complete fluke and there was no reason, no explanation. It just happened.
My parents had been good people, people you could set your watch to. Same diner for breakfast every weekend, same jobs since they left school, same friends who they did the same things with each week. They were loving and kind and deserved the long, quiet lives they had been building until that night.
It was a Tuesday and they were at the Jensen’s, playing bridge. They had all been friends since high school and got together on the same night every week. All of them teetotalers, and kind warm-hearted people. I had been at home watching Lucas while they were out. He had gone to bed hours before and I was talking with a boyfriend on the phone waiting for them to come home. We had a strict, no phones after nine o’clock rule, but being that they always stayed out until ten, I could squeeze in some extra time talking with my high school sweetheart. It was as rebellious as I ever got and that was fine by me. I liked my life and loved my family.
I would sit on the living room couch by the window so I could see their headlights coming down the street and be quick off the phone. Looking back now, I know that they knew what I was doing. There was one phone in our house and it was right next to the spot I was always sitting when they came in. They never said anything though, just hugged me and asked if Lucas had been any trouble. Then I would go to bed, secure in my life and my place in the world.
That night was different though.
I saw the headlights coming down the street and hung up the phone as the car drove into the driveway. I quickly pulled out the book I used as my cover story, flipped to a random page, and waited for the key to turn the lock and my parents to walk in. But there was no key this time, and my parents were not there. This time, there was a knock and I didn’t even think anything of it. I thought maybe they’d forgotten their key or something. I walked to the door and opened it expecting to see the warm smiles of my parents, but instead saw the sheriff standing on our porch with his hat in his hand.
My heart sank to my stomach and I couldn’t squeeze out any words. I just stood there, staring at him.
I don’t remember much of what he said, but he explained that my parents weren’t coming home that night, or ever again. I stared at the brass star on his shirt. To this day, seeing him in uniform brings back memories of that night. Years later, when I dated his son Phil, I got to know him a little better, but I could never forget the night he’d come to tell me my parents were dead.
Apparently from what witnesses said, a coyote had darted in front of the car as they were driving, and my father swerved to avoid it, mistaking it for a neighbor’s dog. The car had spotty steering at the best of times and couldn’t recover from the quick jolt it had just made. My parents crashed into a telephone pole, and by the time anyone arrived there was nothing that could be done. Just like that, for no reason and with nothing to be done, I had lost the two people who loved me more than anything else in the world. And I had also lost the peaceful life I had always known.
I don’t even remember weeping. It was months before I cried over them. I couldn’t take in and process what had happened, let alone digest the reality I was now living. I just went into a fog and did what needed to be done to survive.
Grace came by and took us home with her the next day. It started out as a temporary arrangement until the dust settled, but quickly became something more. Lucas and I had no living relatives, and there was no one else who could take us in without separating us. Grace was a good woman who had lost her husband years ago and had never remarried. She was a mother with no children and, although she never tried to replace our parents, was the closest thing Lucas and I had to family after that fateful night. We both liked her very much before that day and we both loved her after. She was an angel in the darkest times and had stayed with us ever since.
Suddenly the phone rang and shook me out of my stupor. I made my way down the hall and answered sleepily.
“Well, that’s the sound of a weary woman if I’ve ever heard one. Tell me you’ve had a proper dinner tonight, dear?”
It was Grace. I sighed and smiled into the receiver.
“I just fed Luke, Grace, and got him settled for the night. I’ve got a tin of soup and some bread and I’ll be feeding myself shortly.”
I was lying. I had bread, but that was pretty much it. I had lost a day’s work today and had been planning to buy groceries with the tips I would have made. Bread would be fine and the grocery store would still be there tomorrow.
“A fine cook like you and you’re heating up soup for dinner? Well, that just won’t do
at all. I’m coming over with some food and we’re going to have a proper meal.”
“Grace, please. You’ve had a long day too, and I’m not going to have you coming over here and cooking me dinner. Thank you. Thank you so much, but I think we all just need the rest.”
“Hush now. Who said anything about me cooking dinner? I cook all day, dear. I’m bringing food over and you are cooking me dinner. I need to be taken care of sometimes too you know, plus, there’s no soup, is there, dear?”
I laughed wearily and knew there was no way to lie my way out of this.
“Come on over, Grace. I would be happy to cook you dinner, and thankful for your company.”
“Now that is more like it. I’ll be over in a jiffy, dear.”
We hung up and I sat down at the table and rested my head on my hands. I was so tired. I hadn’t eaten since the candy bar I had for breakfast and my stomach rumbled at the thought of a real meal.
“Grace to the rescue once again.”
I closed my eyes and thanked God for putting her on this earth.
Chapter 17
Hunter
It was just like old times.
I couldn’t even try to count the number of bottles Deacon and I had shared over the years. It started when we were fourteen, back in school. We’d both ended up in detention for working over some kids one day.
Deacon had been walking down the hall, minding his own business, when some uppity rich boy put the shoulder to him just to be a prick. Apparently, Deacon had gotten a handjob from this prick’s girlfriend and he didn’t think that was appropriate behavior. Maybe the son of a bitch should have taken better care of her. Or maybe he should have realized we were fourteen fucking years old and that all that shit didn’t matter. In any case, as if that little display wasn’t enough to send Deacon flying off the handle, the poor bastard decided to inform him that his mother was a whore, and his old man, a worthless drunk. Now, that’s not to say these things weren’t both true. Deacon’s pop was a piece of shit and his ma had fucked her way around town, but it was one thing for that to be the truth and another to bring it up. He knew it, no one had to remind him.
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