Page 24 of Snake

“No, say more. What happened?”

“Don’t pretend you didn’t hear about it. I know how this town talks.”

“I didn’t. I don’t listen much to town talk.” He paused, then added, “Because yeah, I know how it does. What happened?”

A man came up to the other side of the door, settling a badly abused straw cowboy hat on his head. He tried to push the door open, but Cox held fast. He glared through the window, and the guy stepped back, raising a hand that said, Sorry.

“What happened?” Cox repeated.

“You’re not entitled to the answer, Cox. I don’t want to tell you. Open the door or get out of my way.”

He opened the door. When she went through this one, there was no touch of his hand on her back.

A couple dozen people, mostly men, were scattered across the bar. She saw nobody in a kutte besides, now, Cox, which made sense considering the lack of motorcycles on the lot. They were all at the park.

The dance floor was empty. A few people looked over, but nobody seemed to make especial note of her. Maybe having a member of the Horde at her side served as a screen.

The man in the battered hat gave Autumn a cursory look without any recognition and nodded at Cox. “Hey, Cox.”

“Neal,” Cox replied, which ended that interaction. He wrapped a hand around Autumn’s arm and drew her deeper into the bar. “You want a table, I expect.”

“Actually, the bar would be better.” She meant not to hide. She had trained herself to face her insecurities boldly. She made herself stomp right up to the things that scared her.

Cox shifted their path so they headed to the bar. Three stools were taken—one by a heavy-set, older man sitting alone at the far end, with a half-full beer glass and an empty old-fashioned glass, and two by a man and a woman, both skinny and in maybe their late thirties, sitting together near the register. They all nodded as Cox and Autumn approached the bar. The big guy at the end held his attention on Autumn long enough to make her stare back until he looked away and then put his back to her.

The bartender, a younger guy with a sandy, tidy but thin ponytail came up. “Hey Cox, miss, what can I getcha?”

“Hey, Vince,” Cox said and turned to Autumn.

“Jameson on the rocks, please,” she answered as she climbed onto a stool. “And a glass of water.”

“Usual for me,” Cox said.

Vince nodded and got busy making their drinks.

“What’s your usual?” she asked when Cox leaned back against the bar beside her.

“The thing I usually order,” he answered, and his delivery was so deadpan she had no idea if he was being a little playful with that answer or shutting her down. Considering what she knew of him, the latter was more likely, so she let it drop.

Vince brought their drinks: Jameson on the rocks and a glass of ice water for her, a bottle of Bud Light and a shot of something amber for him. He tossed the shot back as soon as he turned around.

“What was the shot?” she asked as he turned again to lean back on the bar, now with a bottle in his hand.

“Wild Turkey.”

She laughed; it fell out of her mouth before she could do anything about it.

“That’s funny?” he asked, frowning at her yet again.

“More surprising, I guess. There are better bourbons. I mean, Jack Daniels is a better bourbon, and that’s not exactly top-shelf, either.” She lifted her glass to her mouth. It was a generous pour; maybe three fingers, plus three clear cubes.

He sipped his beer and didn’t respond.

For maybe ten minutes, Cox leaned against the bar, taking regular short pulls from his bottle as he scanned the room, and Autumn sat on her stool, sipping her Jameson while she studied the menu board like a great work of literature, all to the twangy soundtrack of old-school country music. The big guy at the end of the bar flung a few glares at her, but he looked away every time she made eye contact with him. He obviously knew who she was and didn’t like her, but Cox’s presence was keeping him in his manners.

“You want somethin’ to eat, miss?” Vince the bartender asked.

Autumn shifted her attention from the menu board. She’d been studying it out of the total lack of anything interesting to look at, not because she was still hungry after Marie’s. “No, thank you.”

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