Page 155 of My UnTrue Love
“Great!” Whatever was happening, it was big. Alan had been a reporter long enough to sense a career-changing scoop when it fell into his lap. “I can’t wait to meet her.”
Bill slanted him a hard look. “You fuck this up… I’ll fuckyouup.”
“I won’t print a word about you that you don’t approve.” Alan promised, ready to sign that vow in blood from all his vital organs.
“I don’t give a shit what you say aboutme.” Bill scoffed. “You just be careful what you say aboutheror I’ll ruin your whole goddamn life, got it? If Clem gets upset, you’ll be food for rabid buzzards.”
“Yes, sir. I totally understand. Um… Do buzzards get rabid?”
“I’m willing to find out, if you are.”
Alan wasn’t willing to find out.
Two minutes passed in total silence.
A kid about eighteen meandered up on a horse, from the other side of the fence. His eyes were a strange shade of light brown and there was a low-slung, black cowboy hat on his head. “Another damn agent, wanting a new record?” He asked Bill, like Alan couldn’t hear him.
“Reporter.”
“Hell, that’s even worse. Why is he here?”
“He’s gonna interview Clem.”
The kid pondered that idea. “Oh.” He finally said and there was a bit of approval in the sound. “Yeah, alright. She’ll like that. Just so he doesn’t stress her out.”
“He’s too smart to throw his life away.” From Bill, that was high praise. “Besides, Clem’s new pills are workin’ like a charm. She’s said she’s never felt better. Hasn’t fainted in months.”
The kid nodded in acknowledgement, but he still sent Alan a scary sort of glare. “We’rerealprotective of Clem ‘round here.” The words were simple, but something about the way he delivered them had the hairs on Alan’s neck rising.
This boy was one of the most dangerous people he’d ever come across. He knew it in his bones. He sent Bill a “save me” kind of look.
Bill seemed more lazily amused than helpful. “Don’t scare the fella off, Luke. I’m just gettin’ used to him.”
“I’m Alan A. Dale.” He rallied enough to address the hard-edged kid named Luke. “Do you work here? What kind of boss is Pecos Bill?” That was a safe, generic question that invited a safe, generic answer.
“He’s fuckin’ awful.” Luke said.
Alan saw his life flash before his eyes.
“He woke me up at the crack of dawn to listen to one single verse of a song.” Luke went on, glowering Bill’s way. “Over and over andover.”
Bill’s mouth twitched. “I was feelin’ inspired and I didn’t want to bother Clem. She was sleeping.”
“You’re like an idiot, only dumber. Clem’s reporter-guy can quote me on that.” Luke gestured towards Alan.
“I’m not going to quote him.” Alan assured Bill.
Bill didn’t seem to care either way. “This is my brother, Widowmaker Luke.”
“Oh.” Alan quickly digested that information. “I didn’t know you had a brother.”
“We shared a Pa, before his tragic demise.”
“Disappearance.” Luke chimed in, still watching Alan. “Nobody’s found his body. Yet.”
“Just tragic.” Bill repeated with a casual sort of finality. “Anyhow, Luke works here in the summer and on holidays. The rest of the time, he’s a classical violin student at the Westland’s Performing Art Academy.”
Wowza, that was a fancy school. Alan took heart, because nobody who was a musical prodigy could be a serial killer, right? He refused to believe otherwise.
