Page 6 of Small Town Beast

Someone put a beer in Saverin’s hand. He opened it. What the fuck was the man jawing about? Nevermind; maybe he didn’t want a woman. Eugene sometimes got a pretty one, but clearly not tonight. Saverin remembered an ugly story about a high school girl from the Back Hills that worked here one night, and a week later one of her customers shot her dead, claiming she’d given him HIV. This was a shitty place. Nobody in the upper ranks of the clan ever came here.

“Any Green Trees lurkin’?” Saverin rasped. Maybe he could still have some fun. The Green Trees and Snatch Hills had killed his brother. They would pay for it. All of them.

The older McCall passed an uneasy look to the others, then turned back to Saverin and said gravely, “Don’t pick no fights here tonight.”

Saverin said, “Or what?”

“Or I’ll have to stop you,” the man said.

What’s this fucker’s name again? Elian? Elijah?

“Is that a fact?” Saverin said in a way that made everyone else go quiet.

But the older cousin had the pig-headed streak of the McCalls. “Remember we called a truce, Bailey. I know the Green Trees and the Snatches are responsible for what happened to your brother, but I have to make sure the law’s upheld according to Roman’s wishes.”

Roman’s wishes. It’s Roman, Roman, everything.

“That halfbreed ain’t no cousin of mine,” Saverin sneered. “And you can tell him I said it.”

Everybody gaped at him.

“Those are fighting words,” sputtered his cousin.

Saverin crushed the now-empty beer can and tossed it in the bed of his truck.“You boys sliding?”he demanded of the others. Cue a chorus of awkward replies.

“Naw, we’ll be here a minute.”

“Shoot straight, Saverin.”

“Good to see you, Saverin.”

The older cousin eyed him narrowly. No doubt the man would give Roman a play-by-play. Let him.

Sounds of reckless carousing danced out into the night from the doors of the Turnkey. Demolition awaited. Without another word Saverin turned and left his cousins, the demon in his heart chanting for blood.

His name was Poncey.He was old as hell and he talked like she was a slave girl he just found at the auction. Right now he was chatting up with his friends at the pool table, probably bragging about what he was about to do to her. She had a minute left before he came back and took their business upstairs. Of course, she could always walk away. Run. Never return.

She felt dirty and humiliated and the man hadn’t even touched her yet. How did girls do this shit every day? Her hand shook as she raised another whiskey-lemon to her lips.Fuck this, fuck this shit for real.Maybe she could get a little more drunk…No, she needed to leave. Now. She needed to get away from this place. But if she left, she knew she’d never see her son again.

I don’t want to do this…I don’t want to do this…I should have just gone to the strip club. Why did I let Gwen make me think this was gonna be a come-up? That girl is never right about anything!

“Miss, you okay?” The bartender asked.

“I’m fine.”

The kid leaned over the bar. He seemed nice.“S-seemed like you was fixin’ to cry, is all.”

“You might need your eyes checked, baby.”

The boy went bright red though she didn’t mean anything by it. She called everybodybaby.

I should have just robbed somebody like him and called it a day.

At that moment a shadow darkened the bar. Tanya shut her eyes…but the smell that washed over her wasn’t Poncey’s. It was cedar and tobacco and hay, something deep and male that made her eyes flutter open.

“I’ll have two whiskeys,” the giant man said, leaning over the bar on one arm. His voice sounded damaged and rough. “Neat.”

“Yes sir.”

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