Page 50 of Ace of Spades
What did that mean? And why did she swipe at her eyes as she turned away? “Did I do something wrong? I thought you’d like the fish.”
“He’s beautiful.” She turned on the air pump. “I love how blue he is.”
“He matches your eyes.” Henry had been red and black, and he’d thought a different color wouldn’t make her think of Henry every time she looked at it, so he’d gone with the blue-and-white one. And the color did remind him of her eyes.
After dropping the fish into the tank, she stepped back and watched him familiarize himself with his new home. “I think I’ll call him Henry Too.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome. What did you mean by you don’t know what to do with me?”
She put her finger in the water, flicking it. The fish swam up, circled her finger, then nibbled on it, causing her to laugh. “That tickles, Too.”
“Are you calling him the number ‘two,’ or ‘too’ as in ‘also’?”
“Henry Too, as in ‘also.’”
“Cute.” Since it appeared she was going to ignore his question, he went for a beer. “Want anything?” When she didn’t answer, he glanced back, frowning at seeing an empty room. “Guess not,” he muttered. He poured her a glass of wine anyway.
Returning to the living room, he set his beer and the glass of wine on the coffee table, then walked to the fish tank. Henry Too didn’t chase his finger like Henry the First, which was disappointing. Too many things had been disappointing Nate lately, namely himself. As much as he’d sworn he wouldn’t screw up his friendship with Taylor, he had. He’d sent her girls away, watching her cry as the van disappeared from view. He hadn’t put his arms around her, comforting her, even though he’d longed to.
For the first time since he’d joined the FBI, he didn’t know what he wanted anymore. The day after he’d almost killed his father, he had gone into town, an angry boy on the cusp of manhood. The only futurehe could visualize for himself was more of the same, ending up like his father, trying to scratch a living out of their nothing piece of dirt, raising pigs and chickens. If a bit of luck was on his side, maybe he’d land a job as a mechanic at Hank’s Garage.
Rage had still burned in his blood as he’d headed to the drugstore to get something to treat Alex’s shredded back. There wasn’t money for a doctor, and the few dollars in Nate’s pocket wouldn’t buy much, but maybe it was enough for a jar of salve. After finding a generic brand he could afford, he went to the end of the line to pay. As he waited, he read the instructions.
“Something stinks. Smells like a pig farmer.”
Nate recognized that voice. Reese Dagger was the captain of the football team, one of the popular kids at their school.
“Yeah, stinks like shit around here.”
That was Reese’s best friend, Carter Milliard. Nate pretended not to hear them.
“Think the Gentry boys get it on with those pigs?” Reese said.
Carter laughed. “Probably. That’s the only way they’re gonna get any.”
“Maybe those boys get it on with each other,” Reese said.
Blood boiling hot streaked up Nate’s neck and face. “Shut the fuck up.”
“You gonna make us, pig boy?” Reese nudged his friend with his elbow, imitating a squealing pig. They both laughed as Carter joined in, making his own pig noise.
Nate lost it. He stepped toward them, all reasoning gone, one word hanging black and heavy in his mind.Kill.
A firm hand clamped down on his shoulder. “Easy, son.”
It was only the strength in the hand holding him back that kept him in place. He glanced behind him to see Sheriff Buddy Burton. The sheriff had paid numerous visits to the Gentry home back when Nate’s mother still lived there. Each time he’d thrown Gordon Gentry in jailfor a few days for beating up his wife and/or kids. Unfortunately, that had never cured Nate’s father from doing it again.
Still keeping his hand on Nate’s shoulder, the sheriff said, “Reese, Carter, you boys have five seconds to disappear before I let go of him.”
Reese puffed up his chest. “He puts a hand on me, my dad will sue him to hell and back.”
The sheriff snorted. “What, you have a hankering to own a few pigs of your own? You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. Go on, get out of here.”
“But we haven’t paid—”
“Don’t care. Put those rolls of toilet paper on the counter. You’re not papering anyone’s house tonight.”
With the rage that had blinded his vision, Nate hadn’t noticed that Reese’s and Carter’s arms were loaded up with packages of toilet paper. What would it feel like to have no problems bigger than did you have enough rolls to do a decent job of papering someone’s yard?
