Page 2 of Perfect Harmony

Gideon muttered a curse. “Sorry, man.”

Preacher just shrugged before he tilted hisneck back and forth, working out the kinks. Gideon shook out the tension inhis shoulders and arms, hating the thick disappointment that radiated fromPreacher in waves.

“If you can sit another couple hours, I’llfinish this today,” Preacher said.

His back already felt like mincemeat, butGideon nodded. Preacher would never come right out and say it, but he needed afriend right now. “Sounds good.”

He grabbed the bottle of water sitting onthe floor next to his chair and took a long drink before leaning forward andresting his arms on the back of the chair again.

Preacher started tattooing and Gideon raisedhis voice above the buzzing. “You wanna get a beer after this?”

“Thought you had a game tonight with yourcop friends,” Preacher said.

“I can miss it.”

Preacher huffed out a laugh. “Bullshit.You never miss baseball.”

“You should join the league,” Gideon said.

“Sports aren’t my thing,” Preacher said.

“So, you try something new. It won’t killyou,” Gideon said. “The guys would love to -”

“You seriously trying to pull thathorseshit on me?” Preacher stopped tattooing. “Your cop buddies can’t figureout why the fuck we’re even friends. You think I don’t see the way they lookat me on poker night?”

“They’re just pissed because you take alltheir money,” Gideon said.

“Not my fault they fucking suck at poker,”Preacher said.

“It’s kinda cute, you know. The cop andthe robber being best buds,” Greaser called out from his station. “It’s likethat cartoon cat and mouse … what the hell were their names again? Tom andHarry?”

“Jerry, you fucking moron,” Preacher said.“Now do me a favour and mind your own fucking business.”

“Harry and Jerry don’t sound right,” Greasermuttered before returning to his sketch book. Gideon stared at the floor asPreacher resumed tattooing. He knew the guys at the precinct found hisfriendship with Preacher strange, but he didn’t care. Preacher had served histime behind bars and kept his nose clean since his release. Hell, in anothertwo months, his parole would be finished and he would have real freedom again.

Their friendship shouldn’t have worked, butit had since Gideon walked into the tattoo shop, four years ago. Preacher didn’texactly have a heart of gold, but hewasa good man, despite how hard hetried to hide it.

The tattoo covered ex-con had become one ofhis closest friends – hell, he was probably hisbestfriend – sinceGideon had moved to New Cassel. Homesick for his hometown of Harmony Falls andmissing his family, he’d decided to get a tattoo on a whim. An old school roseon his left shoulder, like the one his father had. He’d booked an appointmentat the first tattoo shop that came up on Google, choosing Preacher as hisartist because he had the next available opening.

Gideon smiled a little. The rest, as theysaid, was history.

“We still on for Friday night?” Gideonasked.

“Nah, man, I can’t make it this time.”

“Why not?” Preacher might refuse to join thesoftball league, but he never missed their monthly poker night.

“Got other plans.”

Preacher’s voice sounded off. Gideonturned, eliciting a curse from Preacher as he yanked the tattoo gun away fromGideon’s back. “The fuck, man? You trying to mess up your tattoo?”

Gideon studied Preacher’s face. “What areyour other plans?”

“Who are you, my goddamn mother? I gotplans, okay?” Preacher made a twirling motion with his finger. “Turn the fuckaround so I can finish.”

Gideon continued to study him, and Preacherrolled his eyes. “Dinner with some old friends. There, you happy,Mom?”

“Why are you lying to me?”

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