Page 65 of Tiger Queen

Bobby John looked like he had just learned that Santa Claus wasn’t real. “Oh, man. I didn’t know that. Man. No kidding?”

The two of them shared their whiskey and spent half an hour catching up. From what I gathered, they hadn’t seen each other since Jake left the zoo years ago. Jake was more comfortable around his friend than I had ever seen him, and soon opened up as if I wasn’t there.

It made me feel bad for yelling at him earlier. While being totally focused on the zoo, it was easy for me to forget that the three Haines brothers had lost their father. Jake didn’t go to the funeral. He was still dealing with his grief in his own way, and Bobby John was the first person he could talk to without judgment.

“I still haven’t fucking forgiven him,” Jake said angrily. “Didn’t think I ever would. But now he’s gone I won’t get the chance. I’ll always hate him for that. It sucks.”

“Sucks,” Bobby John agreed. He was on his fourth glass of whiskey but didn’t even look buzzed. “Didn’t think you’d ever come back.”

“Times change.”

“So you sticking around this time?”

“Fuck no,” Jake quickly said, slurring his words a little bit. “Just here to help get the affairs in order. Make sure it’s done right.”

Bobby John grimaced. “Saw what your bro has been doing. Closing up shop and whatnot. Kind of shitty.”

I bit my tongue. Inserting my opinion here wouldn’t help things.

Jake snorted. “You know how he is. Always taking charge like he owns the place. Barking orders and expecting you to jump.”

“Man, my older sister’s the same fuckin’ way. That’s some first-born shit right there. Us middle childrens always get pushed around.”

“Preach,” Jake said.

“So you’re here until everything’s fixed up. How long’s that gonna be?”

Jake spread his hands. “Depends on how soon they can do what needs to be done. We keep running into problems.”

“What kinda problems?” Bobby John asked.

“Too much work, not enough hands. We’ve got some new animal rights group on our ass accusing us of shit that ain’t even true. And now we’ve got a big food problem.”

Bobby John perked up. “Food problem?”

“Naw, man. I’m not trying to push my problems onto you.”

“Just askin’. What food problems?”

“You know the distributor guy we bought all the zoo meat from? Dude out in Atkinson with the hot daughter? He’s jacked up his prices for no reason. Doubled ‘em without warning. Can’t afford to keep the animals fed, now.”

“That’s a real shitbird thing to do, man.” Bobby John swirled his liquor around in the plastic cup. “Well, shit. How much food you eatin’ these days?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“How much?” our host insisted.

Jake shrugged. “Quarter ton a day. Almost five thousand pounds a week.”

“Shit, is that all?” Bobby John said. “You know we got the cattle business over on the other farm, right?”

Jake cocked his head. For a split second he seemed totally sober, but then his drunken slur returned. “No shit?”

“Sure. Couple thousand heads of cattle now. Six roosts full of chickens. Thought you knew about that. Hell, I’ll sell ya the meat ya need.”

“I don’t think we can afford your prices…”

“Fuck the prices!” he declared. “We can afford to cut you a deal. Give it to you real cheap.”

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