Page 24 of Hounds Ascend
I laugh at their exchange. They sound like two high school boys.
“Friendly I am? Hmmph.”
“Reminds me of when Cass was a kid. He never met a damn stranger, and you couldn’t shut him up.”
That’s the first time Brock engaged in the conversation. He looks as if he’s gone back to whatever instance he’s referring to. He has a smile on his face as he continues.
“I had only seen him around club for the longest time, but the first time I saw him out in public around other people, it amazed me. Around us, he grew up with us, so we weren’t strangers. I never expected him to act that way with just any Joe Blow off the street, but damn was I wrong.”
Cass hangs his head, his fingers intertwined and resting on his forehead. From the looks of it, he’s heard this story a thousand times and it isn’t one he cares to hear again, but doesn’t have much of a choice.
“He couldn’t have been any older than four when we took a club ride to the county fair. It was a family thing, so Clayton brought Cass. We were walking around the fair, letting the kids ride rides and eat fried everything when this lady walked toward us. She wasn’t just any lady, either. She was gorgeous. Long blonde hair, rocking body in daisy dukes and cut off tank top. Cass walks up to her, smacks her on the ass and tells her to meet him at the clubhouse later. She couldn’t even be mad at him because he was so serious itwas priceless.”
Brock finishes his story through bouts of laughter at the memory. I’m laughing as I look at Cass, astonished. Not much has changed.
“So, you’re telling me he’s been socialandin control since he was four?” I ask.
“Yep. No changing this one, doll. He’s carved in stone.” Brock lays his hand on Cass’s shoulder, shaking him gently. This is the quietest I’ve ever seen Cass around other people. Normally, being around people, he is in his element. But this? Something about him almost bows down to these men. It’s admirable. He respects the hell out of the two men sitting at that table, that much is evident.
The waitress returns with two massive platters of food and a stack of paper plates, napkins and utensils. “Y’all enjoy!”
She sets our trays down on the table and walks off.
Brock eyes her as she walks away. “Could’ve at least refilled our damn drinks,” he mumbles, more to himself. He doesn’t seem like the type to cause a scene or complain.
Clayton passes out plates with napkins and utensils before we all pile our plates full, and the chatter dies down as we begin eating. I understand why The Patio is the best place in south Mississippi to get barbecue when I shovel a bite in my mouth. The pulled pork is the best pulled pork I’ve ever tasted. There is something different going on with barbecue sauce that is unlike any other.
The lot of us stuff our faces with the delicious food. Linc hasn’t said a word since we got here, listening and watchingmore than interacting. Which is a good thing since Cass always says a good prospect has two eyes, two ears, and no mouth.
“You three got anything planned tonight?” Clayton asks, bringing a napkin to his mouth and wiping the excess barbecue sauce that threatened to drip from his mustache.
“Nope. Our only plans were to meet you for dinner. After that, we were going to wing it.” Cass shrugs his shoulders when Clayton shoots him a questioning look.
“Good. We’re going to the pool hall down the street, then.”
“It’s been a while since we’ve shot, old man.” Cass’s eyes dance with a challenge. I’m missing something but I’m certain Cass is taunting his father.
“How long?” I ask, the words out of my mouth before I can stop them. Curiosity is getting the best of me. How long has it been since they’ve been around one another.
“Five years. That’s a long trip for anoldman,” Clayton teases.
Cass chuckles. “Oh, horse shit. You could make that trip with your eyes closed. Unless…I mean unless you reallyaregetting old.”
“Watch it. Old people don’t fight, they shoot.”
Cass puts his hands up in surrender, his smile mirroring the one on Clayton’s face. Now that I’m looking at them both from almost the same angle, I can see the resemblance. They have the same hairline and color, but Clayton’s has a little more salt than pepper. Their eyes are identical aside from Clayton’s having more of an amber tint where Cass’s are more grey, and they have the same mouth.
They both have an intriguing sense of humor, too. I realize that their “bickering” wasn’t bickering at all. That’s normal. That’s their way of picking at each other.
Something I notice that is a bit odd to me is the fact that Cass is always in control, but whenever Clayton says something, it’s law. That’s what they’re doing and Cass doesn’t question it or contest it. it clicks in my head. That’s where Cass got it from, no doubt.
“Did you teach Cass how to shoot pool?” I ask, breaking the comfortable silence.
A sly smirk crosses Clayton’s face. “I don’t know. Cass, did I?” he asks.
Cass huffs. “Yeah,eventually. After he kicked my ass constantly for about three years. He taught me before I was a teenager.”
“No wonder you stomped my ass on the table.”
