Page 22 of Secondhand Smoke

Jesse looked at Merc, looked back at Aidan.

“We aren’t going to tell him you ratted,” Aidan said, growing impatient. “We don’t give a shit about you. We just want his name.”

“He…he didn’t tell me.”

“What did he look like?”

“Shorter than you. Kinda dark hair. Maybe.” He made a face. “It was quick. I wasn’t checking him out or some shit.”

What a waste of oxygen, this generation.

“How’d you get in contact with him?”

“Text.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “I meant, what’s his number?”

“Oh…” Jesse hesitated…

And Mercy reached for the knife at his hip.

“Alright, alright!” Hands were thrown up for effect. A phone was withdrawn, a number sought on the screen. “He didn’t ever tell me what to call him,” Jesse said, and recited off a number that Aidan punched into his own phone.

“Sure you don’t remember anything else?” Mercy asked, edging his toes closer to the kid’s crotch.

“I don’t!” Jesse said in a hoarse shout. “I swear.”

Aidan stood. “If you’re lying, we’re gonna come back here and–”

“I’m not!”

“And keep away from Erin.”

“Whatever.”

“I’m serious.”

“Yeah. Okay.”

After they’d seen themselves out, and were headed down the front sidewalk, Aidan was struck across the shoulders by the considerable weight of Mercy’s arm. Acome ‘here, palwas always a bit like a headlock and a tackle, coming from Merc.

“That was real good in there,” the Cajun said, giving him a fraternal squeeze. “I’m proud of you, kiddo.”

Aidan rolled his eyes. “Thanks,Dad. You know, you’re only like four years older than me.”

“Four-and-a-half, but who’s counting? But I’m serious. You’re getting better at that sort of thing. Used to, it woulda had to be your old man or Walsh doing the talking. Or me, ‘cause I talk so well.” He puffed his chest out proudly.

“Wow,” Aidan said glumly. “High praise.”

“Brother.” Mercy’s arm dropped away. “It’s a compliment. Don’t take it any other way.”

Whatever else he was, Mercy wasn’t duplicitous. Yes, it was a compliment, and he meant it heartily. Aidan just wished he hadn’t been thirty-two before he realized he wanted to do something worthy of praise.

He ground to an awkward halt when they reached the street. “Hey…can I come by for dinner tonight? Can I talk to you guys about something?”

Mercy twitched a concerned frown. “Everything alright?’

“Not really, no.”

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