Page 8 of Fury
Iron Indian Records
Bethany
“Double latte, please. Skim milk.” Bethy smiled at the woman in the food truck window. “That’s all today.”
“Child,” Dorothea scolded, shaking her head. “You ain’t gonna get no ass drinkin’ no skim milk. And you got no ass, you ain’t gonna get yourself a man. Lemme make you a real cup of coffee, with whipped cream on top.” Even as her mouth moved, arguing, she was already assembling what Bethy had asked for. “And no muffin? Child, that’s nearly criminal, with how good these banana nut muffins are today.”
Rolling her eyes, Bethy laughed. “Dot, I’ll give on the muffin, but you put whipped cream on my coffee, and I will not be coming back.” She grabbed her purse, unslinging it from her shoulder. “And if you try to put butter on the muffin, we’ll have words.” Dorothea chuckled, and Bethy grinned at her, finding her wallet by feel.
“Put her stuff on my tab.” Bethy didn’t try to stifle her glad cry as she recognized the voice that came from behind her. Purse clutched in one hand, she whirled and threw herself at the man standing there.
“Davy.” She felt his arms settle around her, holding her close. Then she laughed again when his voice rumbled in his chest underneath her cheek.
“But, Dot, if you put whipped cream in my coffee, we’ll have more than words.” He gave Bethy a squeeze. “How you doin’, baby girl?”
“Better, now.” The sadness from last night threatened to reappear, and she pressed closer when he would have released her. “I didn’t know you were coming into town. When did you decide?”
“Coffee’s ready, Miss Bethy,” Dot called, and Bethany reluctantly pulled back from her brother.
“Thanks, Dot,” she said, accepting the wax paper-wrapped muffin and paper cup of coffee. “You’re my favorite.”
“I’ll remember that the next time you tell my son something I don’t want him to hear.” Dot laughed and shook her head. “My Ty thinks a lot of you, but you sic him on me again for my food choices and I doubt I’ll still be your favorite.”
Bethy felt her smile slip, and she waited for Mason to give his order for a breakfast sandwich before she asked, “Have you heard anything from Sarge?” It had been several days since the last update Bethy had gotten, but he usually kept in closer contact with Tyrell’s mom. “Ty okay?”
“Yeah.” Dot brushed at her forehead with the back of one wrist. “He said Tyrell is getting back on track. Every episode he has, my boy seems to come back from quicker, and that’s good, Bethy.” Dot reached out, sandwich in hand, waiting for Mason to take the food. “I’m glad he’s got you to lean on. Matters a lot, more than you know.”
“We always do better with good folks in our corner,” Mason said. “How much do I owe you, Dot?”
“Not a thing, honey. Friends and family discount got you covered today.” Bending over so she could see them through the low window in the side of her truck, Dot gifted them both with a broad smile. “Appreciate y’all.”
“Back atcha,” Bethy told her, then tried to hide a smile when Mason tucked a twenty-dollar bill into the tip jar on the counter. “See you tomorrow.” Mason slung an arm around her neck as they turned to head up the block to the building that housed their business. “I didn’t know you were coming in. Why didn’t you tell me?” Careful of her full hands, she bumped him with her hip. “I like your visits, bro.”
“I like visitin’ ya, Bethy. I didn’t know until late that I’d be headed down.” She felt his lips brush the side of her head. “Thought I’d surprise ya.” He huffed a laugh, then said, lips quirking into a smile, “Surprise.”
“Good surprise.” He released her as she juggled things, getting the key from her pocket and let them into the building, using her elbow to turn on lights as they moved through the receptionist area and into the office they shared.Shared is a generous term, she thought, looking around. Her desk was messy, clearly used and covered with folders filled with research on different artists and bands. Stuck in front of the phone were a dozen notes with names, numbers, and dates. The desk that faced hers, butted together as they were in the middle of the room, was a stark difference. Clear of everything except a notepad and pen, the telephone shoved to one side. She noted where the chaos of her area had bled across the line, edges of folders and papers extending into the pristine space.
“Tell me what that was about Ty.” Mason shifted his chair and dropped into it, somehow managing to not fumble his sandwich or coffee this whole time. He set the coffee on the desk, laughing at her when she slid a coaster his direction. Ignoring that unsubtle hint, he unwrapped his sandwich and demanded again, “Tell me, baby girl,” before taking a huge bite.
“I’d rather tell you about the group I want to try and sign.” She settled into her own chair, pulling out the old-fashioned writing shelf to set her coffee down, knowing from experience that trying to make room on the desk proper was a doomed enterprise.
“I’m sure you would. But, you’re gonna tell me what’s goin’ on with Ty first.” He pried the lid off his coffee, and took a sip, grinning at her over the top of the cup.
“He’s…away. Got a couple of things to take care of. I thought Dot might have heard from him.” Bethy unwrapped her muffin, already knowing that Davy wouldn’t accept that answer. She groaned when her fingers encountered the slippery coating on the baked goods. “She put butter on my muffin!”
“And cream, real cream in your latte. And she ain’t wrong. You’re too skinny, Bethy.” He sipped his coffee again. Voice harder than it had been a moment ago, he observed, “You just lied to me.”
Bethy’s head jerked up and she stared at him, picking off a piece of the muffin and stuffing it into her mouth. He shook his head at her stall tactic and started talking. “Don’t lie to me. About anything, ever. I know we weren’t always close.” She winced, because that was her fault. She’d blamed him when he’d left, only realizing years later that it was an act of pure self-preservation for a sixteen-year-old boy who, if he had stayed, would have wound up in a kill or be killed scenario sooner or later with their father. But him leaving when he did, and what happened afterwards? It had taken her a long time to sort that out in her head.
“Bethy, you know I only want the best for ya. You weren’t asking Dot if she’d heard from Ty, you were asking about Sarge.” He paused, staring at her, then shook his head. “Don’t wrinkle your nose at me.” Bethy rolled her lips between her teeth not even aware she was making a face until he said something. “I know about Ty’s PTSD. Knew it the first time I came to visit y’all’s apartment.” That had been after Mikey’s brother died, when Davy had come down for Darren’s funeral.
It seemed so many of her interactions with Mikey had surrounded death and destruction. Like Tabby’s death, the one that cost her so much, but gave her so much, too. Seeing Mikey’s friend—the judge at the funeral—and having overheard her father and her husband talking that morning about their upcoming plans would have been enough to push anyone to desperate measures. Begging for help at the funeral of her best friend had been a mortifying tactic, but it probably saved her life.Priorities. It got me off the mountain.
She and Tabby had always promised each other they’d get out together. Out of the holler and away from the people who scattered careless pain like seed on a fertile field. Then Tabby died, and Mikey came home for the funeral, and she knew, somehow, that he’d catch her if she leaped. So, at the end of that long, long day, Bethy had been installed with Ty with Mikey’s help. Out and safe for the first time in so long. Those first nights in Ty’s apartment were scary, and the memories of him soothing her tears were reminders that she owed him so much.Like I told Sarge, supporting him however I can is the least thing I can do.
Then Darrie had died, the last of Mikey’s family torn away from him. Loss after loss, all his life. Mikey had come home again, and as soon she’d gotten the call, she’d made her first return trip to the hollers. Panic twisted her belly the whole time she’d driven up that damned mountain. It hadn’t mattered that Daddy was dead by that point, didn’t matter that avengefulDavy had worked to clear their home place from all the folks who had hung on every word that spewed from that man’s mouth. Driving into the clearing had taken every ounce of courage she owned. And of course, that was the one time Davy had shown up, too.
Thank God. She smiled, remembering how angry she’d been to see him. In the end, the encounter had been the beginning of their renewed relationship. He’d met Ty the next day, staying in the apartment with several of his and Mikey’s friends. The instant she’d gotten home, she’d pulled Ty aside and begged him to be quiet about what he knew, about what she’d had to do. She hated keeping secrets from Davy, but if he caught wind of what had happened to her…if he realized she had a child, he would lose his mind.
