Chapter 24
Brendan walked into Trish’s Place five minutes early and immediately spotted the same bartender behind the counter as always. Did that woman ever take a night off? His mom had agreed to finish cleaning up the mess in the kitchen so that Brendan could get here before Grant, but to Brendan’s surprise, his brother was already sitting in a booth along the wall. He swung past the bar to order a pair of Shiners, opened a tab, and then transported the beers to the table. Grant had apparently polished off his first already, because he started on the next beer as soon as it hit the table.
“You struck out?” Brendan asked.
“Ha, yeah,” Grant said with a rueful smile. “Something about a screaming baby really kills the mood.”
“I bet, I bet.”
The two brothers focused on drinking their beers and paying more attention to patrons at other tables than to each other.
“Thanks for the beer.” Grant touched the bottom of his bottle to that of Brendan’s. “And thanks for saving Michelle’s ass the other night.”
“It was nothing.”
“No, I really mean it,” his brother continued ardently. “That could’ve been really bad. I don’t even know what I would’ve done. What we would’ve done.”
“Anytime.” Brendan picked a little at the scabs still remaining on his knuckles. Punching people in the face was never as clean as they made it out to be in movies.
“I still don’t get what they were after, though,” Grant mused. “Or what the pair of you were doing behind the bar.”
Brendan desperately wanted to ask about what Michelle had told him exactly, but knew that was a bit suspicious. A little piece of the truth could probably hide the more dangerous revelations behind it.
“Scott Fisher and his boys beat me up the other day over some stupid crap. Michelle felt bad and took me out to Schmidt’s. I wanted to make up for her paying the bill and brought her here for a drink.”
Grant watched him like a hawk deciding which side of the throat to attack. “Go on.”
“Okay, well, uh, I maybe said something stupid that pissed her off, and she ran out the back of the bar.”
“Something stupid? Like what?”
It was time to test the deceptive waters.
“Honestly, Grant, I asked her if you’d ever hit her.”
Grant’s steely expression hid little of the rage behind his eyes. “And why’d you ask something like that?”
“Because you’ve got a short fuse and I wanted to make sure you’re good to your wife,” Brendan said, matching his brother’s intensity. Now Grant was in a precarious position, because if he flew off the handle, he’d only be proving Brendan’s intentions both correct and valid. After a moment’s restraint, Grant’s features softened.
“I’m a changed man now,” he said, smiling again. “A couple of bad experiences were all I needed to reform my ways.”
“Glad to hear it.” Brendan slowly turned the bottle in his hands. “You know, it’s a bit weird you didn’t ask me why Scott and his crew would want to kick my ass.”
“So tell me.”
“I was trying to score some meth from him.”
“Why would you do that?”
“To prove he’s dealing in that crap.”
The waitress cruised past and Brendan put two more beers on his tab. When she’d gone on her merry way, he asked Grant if he knew anything about the drug problems in town.
“Not really.” Grant leaned forward across the table conspiratorially. “I hear about break-ins, robberies, some muggings in town, but that’s about it.”
“Mom or Dad tell you some ass-wipes broke into their house the second night I was here?”
“No,” Grant seethed, eyes boring into Brendan’s. “What night was that?” His brother’s knuckles turned white around his beer bottle.
“Last Monday.”
“Anyone get hurt?”
“Just them,” Brendan said, a little proudly. “I probably broke one guy’s arm with the poker from the fire.”
“They take anything?”
“No, but Mom almost took my head off with the shotgun.”
Time skipped a few beats before Grant suddenly lightened up.
“You guys must’ve done a good job patching the place back up,” he said. “I didn’t notice anything earlier.”
“You know how Mom and Dad are about appearances.” Trying to steer conversation away from family matters, Brendan asked his brother what he does for work.
“I’m the county’s best and brightest agricultural supply salesman,” he announced with overacted prowess. “If you need cattle feed, pesticides, fertilizer, you name it, I’m your man.”
Grant promptly launched into a prepared pitch about his rank in the district, and how his numbers are so much better than some other guy’s, and what his top secret plan for next year is. Brendan promised not to tell, honestly not giving a crap about any of it.
“You travel a lot with your job?” he asked.
“Yeah, there’s a lot of conferences to attend, and customer visits, and even a couple of tradeshows each year,” Grant explained. “Keeps me busy. I’m probably gone three or four days most weeks, but I try to fit in as much family time as possible. Family’s got to come first.”
The intonation on that last phrase irked Brendan, but he still couldn’t tell if his brother was just messing with his head or not.
“In any case, I’m glad I caught you when I did, little brother. I’m heading back out on the road again the day after tomorrow. Got a big sale to make out in the country.”
City people usually considered places like Shallow Creek “the country”, but everything was relative.
“You know what, it’s getting late,” Grant announced, getting up from the table. He called out to the bartender, “Hey, Jenny, I’ll cover his bill. Just throw it on my running tab.”
“Sure thing, Grant,” Jenny hollered back as she ran a rag through some presumably clean pint glasses.
“You don’t need to do that,” Brendan said as he exited the booth.
“Don’t mention it. How often do I get to buy my little brother a drink? It’s an honor.”
Brendan followed Grant out through the door and watched him unlock a shiny new red Chevy pickup, sporting all the bells and whistles. Brendan’s own truck wasn’t anything to sneeze at, but it still looked cheap by comparison.
“I’ll see you around,” Grant said as he climbed up into the cab. “Don’t be a stranger.”
And with that, his brother drove off into the night. Brendan got into his own truck and wondered why everyone kept saying that, and why neither brother had mentioned either of the eight-hundred-pound gorillas in the room.
Chapter 25
“Brendan, I really can’t talk right now.”
“You say that a lot.”
“I’m really, really busy,” Marcus insisted. “Unlike you, I’ve got a real job to do.”
It was early on Monday morning, and in fairness, most regular people were working right now.
“You’ve been dodging me for days. Come on, tell me what’s going on.”
Brendan sat on Grant’s old bed, phone tucked uncomfortably between his shoulder and cheek while he pulled on his socks and running shoes. Right when Marcus started to talk, Brendan leaned too far forward and the phone slipped right out from its precarious perch. He quickly gathered it up.
“What did you say, Marcus?”
“I said I’ll lose my job if the sheriff finds out I helped you the other night,” he whispered quickly. “I’m already on thin ice with Sheriff Troy as it is.”
Brendan considered this for a moment.
“Does that mean you didn’t tell the DEA about my little side investigation?”
“Hell no, I didn’t. Are you crazy? That would be the end of my short-lived career here, man.”