Page 20 of The Bright Lands
The girl glanced over Joel’s shoulder at the door. A blink and her eyes had gone dark. She said softly, “Is he okay?”
“Why would KT not be okay?”
“I thought maybe Dylan called you.”
“Called me about what?”
“Like an accident or something.”
“He hasn’t called at all. I was wondering when we could expect those guys home today.”
“What’s this about?”
Joel regarded her a moment. “I’m just looking forward to seeing Dylan again.”
The girl didn’t blink. “Aren’t we all?”
Joel stopped by the CVS to ascertain something he’d already guessed: his brother didn’t have a prescription at the pharmacy, and, after a little wheedling (“Are you sure? My mother swears it’s here for him”) discovered that Dylan had never filled a prescription for Oxycodone, or any other medication for that matter.
Joel sat in a creaking wooden booth at Hash and Brown’s Egg House for the better part of an hour, drinking coffee and skimming the pages of theBentley Beacon. There was a breathless write-up of the game on Friday (DYLAN WHITLEY AND BISON CONTINUE CHARGE...TO STATE FINALS?) and small ads for VOTE MAYOR MALACEK, COUNTY ATTORNEY BOONE, SHERIFF LOPEZ—FOR A CLEAN RECORD.
A waitress came to refill his coffee, but when Joel raised his head to thank her, her eyes widened in recognition. Joel knew that look well. Bethany Tanner had given him one just like it at the game: this waitress was comparing the man in front of her to the boy she had no doubt seen brandishing himself at a camera when she was a girl.
Joel had forgotten just how long this town’s memory could be.
He handed her a twenty and didn’t wait for his change. As he returned to his car, he felt eyes on him from all directions.
He came to a decision. If he wanted to learn what was wrong with his brother he would need a friend in Bentley, someone the place still treated as a local. Clark—DeputyClark—was out. Paulette was too close to give Joel impartial help. What few buddies he’d hung around with in high school had all distanced themselves after his little scandal.
No, he thought.Not quite all.
“Those boys are fine,” Wesley shouted from the kitchen. “Most of them, I mean. Do you want a beer?”
Joel caught the bright tang of onions striking oil. The size of the house had surprised him: it was an ugly mishmash of tall windows and peaked gables that sat alone at the heart of a new (and apparently abandoned) subdevelopment, its neighbors nothing but bare studs, empty window sockets, drywall swaddled in tattered Tyvek sheeting.
Inside, Wesley had clearly struggled to fill the place. A muted TV rested far enough away from the sofa Joel could hardly read the names of the men in their boxy suits discussing a football game. A little drinks cart rested in a distant corner. A massive iron cross hung above Joel’s head, an outline of the state of Texas inscribed on its heart.
Joel agreed to the beer. “Are you the only person on this block?”
“Only person for miles,” Wesley called. He returned to the living room with two sweating bottles of Corona. “I got this house off the Evers family for a song a few years back. Mrs. Evers got a little carried away with her redevelopment plans and had to unload fast.”
Joel took a long pull of the cold beer. He knew the sort of property developments Wesley was talking about—fat bubbles of speculation slippery with enthusiasm—and had counseled plenty of investors against them in the course of his career.
“This is the same Evers family as Luke, the running back?”
“The very ones. His family owns half the town these days, runs the Chamber of Commerce, such as it is. Did you ever go in the back room of the steak house on South Street? Mr. Evers is like a king in there these days, smoking and talking with the other men, scheming how to get us back in the black. Not that it does him much good at the moment. Football’s the only business still going around here.”
“You don’t say,” Joel said, as casually as he could. “Were any of your kids at the youth group talking about the fight Luke and Dylan had at the game?”
“That’s all for appearances. Those boys have to keep up a rivalry, you know. Your brother stole Luke’s girl back in middle school so now they have parts to play.”
“Luke and Bethany Tanner used to be an item?”
“I think their parents still wish they were. Evers and Tanner would be worth a small fortune if they got together.”
“But instead she chose my family.”
Wesley laughed. “Bethany and Dylan seem like the real deal.”
