Page 54 of Crossroads Magic
He didn’t look pleased, or even satisfied. He just shoved the money into his own pocket, turned and moved back to the cab of the truck, got in, and started the engine.
I tiredly made myself bend and pick up the grocery bags out of the remaining cartons and carried them into the kitchen. Then the empty cartons.
Exhausted, I trudged into the bar and dropped onto the stool. Benedict and Broch were at the locals’ table this morning, their heads together, discussing something in very low voices.
Hirom came over to me.
“That green smoothie you made for Ghaliya, yesterday? Can you make one for me? I need the energy.”
Hirom grimaced. “So the bastard didn’t change his ways even for you. Figured he wouldn’t. That would take too much empathy.” He moved down the counter and pulled out a cocktail shaker, then various items out of the fridge and from under the bar and poured them into the shaker. I watched him shake up the mixture with practiced dexterity, then pour it into a fresh glass.
He carried it over to me. By then, I’d caught my breath. I took a big mouthful of the smoothie. It tasted fruity, and slightly gritty. “Not disgusting at all,” I remarked.
“Your innards will like it,” Hirom assured me.
I drank deeply, half-emptying the glass, then licked my lips. “Okay, explain to me, please, what just happened and why.”
“Thamina had groceries delivered every week,” Hirom said.
“From Edwards?”
“Gouverneur. It’s a bigger grocery store.”
“Okay, and I presume the bill was paid electronically?”
“In advance.”
“So why did I just pay what I think was over a hundred dollars to the driver, for the privilege of hauling my own cartons?”
Hirom gave me a wry smile. “If we don’t tip the bastard, he won’t deliver the groceries at all. He’ll dump ‘em outside Gouverneur and call us liars if we protest to the store manager, who is his uncle.”
“He was putting the squeeze on my mother?” I was affronted all over again. I wish I’d slapped the money onto his palm a little harder, now.
Hirom weighed up my question with a serious expression. “It’s more like blood money. We’re paying him to deliver.”
“No difference from where I’m sitting.”
“You don’t know the story, is why.”
“I’m listening.”
Hirom cleared his throat.
“I don’t give a damn about customer privilege,” I said. “I’m betting that joker has never been a customer of yours, anyway. Give the story up, Hirom. I need to know why we’re paying twice for groceries. That wasn’t just a tip.”
“No,” Hirom agreed. “Okay.” He leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “The bastard’s name is Leo Davis. He was lined up for a very nice football career. Dominated college football for a couple of years. Everyone in the county was talking about him. Then he blew out his knee. Game over.”
“As in, whole career over?”
“About the only work he could get after he came out of rehab was delivering groceries for his uncle.”
“That would make a man bitter,” I observed.
“And a drinker,” Hirom added, with a nod. “He was surly even before Thamina cursed him, although he would at least carry the boxes in for her, but after that…well…” Hirom shook his head.
“Shecursedhim? What the hell?”
Hirom waved aside my astonishment. “Early this summer, Leo arrived with the groceries. He had a young kid with him, who was learning the ropes. I think Leo spent the whole trip out here filling the kid’s head with stories about Haigton Crossing. By the time they got here, the kid was freaking out, trying to look over his shoulder, to either side and in front of him all at the same time.”
