Page 137 of Five Mountain Daddies

“Hey, Mitch,” Isay.

He grins at me. “Hey yourself, bigguy.”

I sit down next to him and he looks at me, grinning. Mitch isn’t such a bad guy, as far as Mason lifers go. He’s a cop now, which says something about him at least. He’s a couple inches shorter than me, going slightly bald up front, still thin though I doubt that’ll last based on the two empty beers and the third he’s nursing. I order myself a beer and Mitch leans back in hisseat.

“Gotta say, I’m surprised you’reback.”

I thank the bartender as she hands me the beer. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Can’t say Mason River’s got much on the bigcity.”

“No, it doesn’t.” I grin at him. “But home’s still home,right?”

“Right,” heagrees.

“How have youbeen?”

“Good,” he says. “Got married a couple monthsago.”

My eyebrows go up. I didn’t know that. “Towho?”

“MarcieLane.”

My eyes practically bug out of my skull. “Marcie Lane? You shittingme?”

“Not at all.” He grinsproudly.

Marcie Lane was fucking hot back in high school, the kind of girl that every guy wanted. I don’t know how she ended up with Mitch, considering he was the kind of guy everyoneignored.

He pulls out his phone and shows me a picture. Sure enough, that’s him and Marcie Lane in wedding photos. Marcie’s still pretty, though she’s gained a lot of weight since high school ended. She still holds itwell.

“Good for you, man,” I say, shaking my head. “Marcie Lane. Good foryou.”

He laughs and puts his phone away. “Thanks, man. We’re working on the first kidnow.”

“Good luck with that.” I hold up my drink. “To your long life and bigfamily.”

“Cheers.”

I sip my drink and glance around the room. I spot a few other guys I vaguely recognized, though mostly everyone’s a stranger to me these days. I’ve been away so long that I don’t fit in anymore, at least it feels that way. Part of me itches to get back home again, but that memory of Atticus scaring off those bullies, and the image of Cora’s pretty face looking so determined, keep making me want tostay.

We fall into small talk. Mostly Mitch catches me up on years of local drama and gossip, which is good, since I don’t have much to say. I don’t want to tell him about living in Chicago, about how much happier I am being away from this small town and its bullshit. But something he says after his third beer is finished really catches myattention.

“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask him, coming back into themoment.

“The Niners,” he says. “That’s when things really gotbad.”

I raise an eyebrow. “They’re the localgang?”

He nods. “Took over the drug trade, practically. I think they’re named after the Tech Nine pistol, but I haven’t bothered asking any ofthem.”

“Huh,” I say. “I didn’t know there were gangs inMason.”

“Didn’t used to be,” he admits. “But these last few years, things have been changing. Selling opioids is a big business these days, and selling heroin to the people that can’t afford the pills anymore is an even biggerone.”

I nod, not surprised. That’s a common story these days. So many people get addicted to opioid pills, but the pills are expensive as hell. Eventually, just to keep getting that high, they have to turn to heroin. That’s when the troublestarts.

“Your boy was involved with them,” Mitch goes on. “He was running drugs for them sometimes. A real nobody, as far as they were concerned, but you know Atticus. He always found trouble, even when he wasn’t looking forit.”

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