Page 22 of Bear Strength

“I was,” I nod. “And, none taken.”

“So, you actually quit successfully?” he chuckles, putting one of those cigarettes in his mouth and lighting it up with a small gold covered lighter. “Well done.”

“Thanks,” I reply. I don’t continue to tell him how I managed to do it. Through threats and having a few of them branded into my bare skin. The scars have almost faded. The physical ones, at least.

“Now, Sam,” he starts, takes a deep puff and exhales with great pleasure right in my face. I don’t move, nor do I cough. I know he’s only doing it to get a raise out of me, but I won’t give him the satisfaction. “Sam did some stupid shit, I’ll give you that. But, we sorted it out.”

“People seem to think he’s disappeared,” I correct him, aware that I’m walking a fine line here, but I want to push it til the end.

“How’s that my fault?” he replies, sounding genuinely surprised at my question.

“Apparently, he wronged you and then you killed him,” I say, and realize what I’ve said only once the words already left my lips.

I’m expecting anything at this point. Him drawing a gun. Him pushing me to the ground. Maybe even hitting me. Calling me all sorts of names. But, he does none of that. Instead, he chuckles again, and I realize that for the last few seconds, I’ve been flinching, waiting for a storm to happen. Old habits die hard, I guess. Even when you do your best to erase them from your memory.

“So, you’ve been talking to some people who really hate us,” he says, with a smile still lingering on his lips.

“Everyone seems to think you’re criminals. Is that a wrong assumption?” I wonder.

“Do you think Robin Hood was a criminal?” he asks, and I have to suppress a laugh.

“So, you’re comparing yourself to the legendary heroic outlaw who stole from the rich and gave to the poor?”

“Would that make you like me?” he asks, so mischievously that my cheeks are immediately fired up, and the answer is written all over my face.

“Why would my opinion matter?” I decide that attack is the best defense, and from the look on his face, I see he enjoys this little banter. Surprisingly, so do I.

“Well, we have to spend some time together, whether we like it or not,” he tells me. “Of course it matters if one side hates the other.”

“Eh, now. Hate.”

“Too strong?” he winks at me.

“Way too strong,” I nod. “I don’t even know you. I don’t tend to hate people just based on what I’ve heard of them.”

“That’s good,” he takes a step back, eyeing me from top to bottom. “You don’t hate me. But, you’re afraid of me.”

I almost gasp at his words. I’ve never met someone so outspoken, someone who wouldn’t give a single damn about social proprieties, giving himself the right to ask all sorts of questions that people usually leave unasked.

I take a deep breath before I reply. We’re in deep, muddy waters now, and I need to tread even more carefully.

“Well, let’s see the facts,” I clear my throat a little. “I am in a situation where I have no other choice but to leave my son unattended, with people who are considered criminals in this town. Wouldn’t you be a little worried and scared if you were me?”

There’s that victorious feeling again. I left him speechless. I see him biting his lower lip, trying not to smile, but we both know it. I’m right. And, it’s fun.

“Alright, alright,” he lifts his arms in a gesture of mock surrender. “You do have a point. See, that’s why you need to get to know us. Get to know me. So, you know we’re not all Devil’s rejects here.”

“I do appreciate the movie reference,” I smile at him, enjoying his shock at the fact that he’s not the only fan of Rob Zombie’s flicks. “But, I need to head back home. I don’t want my son to think I don’t trust him.”

“It’s us you don’t trust,” he repeats.

I smile, and leave my comment for myself, even though I’m sure he knows it already.

“Will Adrian be bringing Dominick home?” I ask.

“If that’s what you want,” he replies.

“Yes.”

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