Page 115 of Average Joe

“I don’t know where the kid is staying.” My uncle turned green. “I know he’s got a drop-off scheduled tomorrow night.”

“Where?” Marley asked from her spot at the door.

Larry’s lips curled in disgust. With a mumbled curse, he said, “That vacuum repair shop in Georgetown, a block up from the strip club.”

“Time?”

“After dark’s all I know.”

Good enough.

Marley came to my side, the bottle of whiskey held close to her chest. On a long sigh, she filled Larry’s empty glass. “I’m sorry about your balls.”

Larry flinched, hands shaking, never meeting Marley’s eyes.

“But I’m keeping the bottle,” she declared, then turned on her heels and stormed out the door.

I followed, a little dazed and confused, but a helluva lot turned on.

* * *

Marley downed two swallows of Maker’s Mark with trembling hands before capping the bottle and nesting it between her thighs.

I headed for the interstate.

The silence was thick and uncomfortable, but necessary. We both had a lot to process. Though successful, our meeting with Larry hadn’t gone as I’d expected. I’d figured I’d have to rough up my uncle a bit, make some threats, and pull out the “dad” card as a last resort. Should’ve led with Daddy Dearest and saved us time and trouble.

Though entertaining, Marley’s violent outburst exposed the depth of her fear. The woman was terrified for her son.

“Wanna talk about what happened back there?”

“What do you mean?” She picked at her thumbnail.

“Would you have stopped if I hadn’t dragged you away from Larry?”

“I knew what I was doing.” She slapped her hands to her thighs and squeezed.

“Did you?”

“He’s your uncle.” She fought a grin. “I had to be the bad guy.”

“The bad guy.” Sweet Jesus, that woman. I laughed a deep, eyes-watering, belly laugh.

“Why is that funny?”

“We weren’t playing good cop/bad cop.”

“I wasn’t. I just…” Marley turned her face away, clearly trying not to chuckle. “I’m used to taking care of what needs to be done. He needed to talk. I knew you wouldn’t hurt him—”

“Too badly,” I interrupted. “I wouldn’t have hurt Larry too badly.” He was nearing seventy, but the guy was a scrapper.

“Okay. Whatever. You wouldn’t have gone for the balls, though, and that’s what needed to be done.”

A full-body shiver rippled through me. “Remind me never to make you angry.”

Marley shifted to face me. “If the bottle had broken like I’d intended, I could’ve just threatened his jugular.” She drew her index finger across her neck.

“How many bar fights you been in, neighbor?”

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