Page 9 of Just Friends

Weasel walked through the gym and spotted his sparring buddy, Ty Haney, at a punching bag giving it a steady stream of jabs. Ty worked for the Sheriff’s department and was, like Weasel, spread thin over his job duties. Unlike Weasel, Ty’s jurisdiction included the entire county and not only White Oak.

He strolled up to Ty. “You punch like my grandma.”

A sly smile crossed Ty’s lips. “Step in the ring and say it to my face.”

“Be right there.” Weasel headed toward the locker room.

“You’re looking a little soft, Anderson,” Ty called.

“That’s not what your sister said last night,” Weasel yelled back and kept walking. He was in prime fighting condition, and they both knew it. He exercised and stayed in shape, making sure that no one could get the drop on him. He needed to be capable of chasingdown a criminal and beating the hell out them. Ty was one of the few guys around willing to step into the ring with him.

They spent the next half hour beating the shit out of each other and collapsed to the mat both breathing heavily and unable to move.

“What crawled up your ass?” Ty asked gasping for air.

“Nothing,” he replied, trying to catch his breath. His arms wouldn’t respond.

“Bullshit. Thought I’d have to bust out the Taser on you.”

“I’m just a better fighter than you, old man.”

“A woman,” Ty said.

Weasel let out a string of murmured swears.

Laughing, Ty rolled out of arm’s reach and struggled upright. “Man, you need to get laid.”

Weasel held up a gloved hand. “Guess which finger.” Admitting that a beautiful girl tied him in knots was never going to happen. Ty just laughed and went toward the locker room. Weasel pushed himself to his feet, even though his arms didn’t want to work, and followed.

He didn’t speak again until they were standing at the lockers getting dressed.

“You’re gonna get called into a meeting in the morning,” Ty said.

“About what?”

Ty glanced around, and they were alone in the locker room. “The DEA is coming in with a joint task force to run a sting on what they suspect is a large meth operation. I recommended you for the local guy since you’re the one running down all the drugs in the territory.”

That he was. He’d long ago taken up the cause to rid the city of the stuff that killed his brother and ruined so many lives of his neighbors and friends. But the opioid epidemic was growing exponentially due in part to a slow economy that hit rural areas the hardest when companies closed. When that happened, they left unemployed folks helpless to care for their families and in despair. Or he’d seen many of them injured and prescribed opioid painkillers that they ended up addicted to and had to turn to street drugs when the prescriptions ran out. Some days it felt like a never-ending battle that he’d never win in his lifetime, but he went out every day and tried anyway. “Well, I’m in,” he replied.

“I know,” Ty said. “They have an agent undercover in operation now, collecting intelligence. It took him a while to gain trust. As soon as he has all we need and gives the word, we move.”

The locker room door opened, and two older men came traipsing in fresh out of the steam room. So, Weasel just nodded at Ty’s statement and finished dressing.

???

With the days’ lunch rush over, Rebecca realized that she hadn’t seen Weasel. She should leave well enough alone, but Kyle had been in the diner today. She removed the cell phone from her back pocket and texted.

You missed lunch.

He responded in seconds.Testimony delayed so I’m babysitting a witness. Flight risk. Need coffee. Can you bring?

It would cause her to be a little late to check in on her dad, but she could make it work.Where are you?

4thand Main.

She found Weasel’s unmarked police SUV right where he said—on the curb outside a nondescript home only a few blocks off the square, close to the restaurant. It had taken her longer than it should have to get there. She’d forgone the diner’s coffee in favor of a café with a proper barista. She’d splurged on a latte for herself, but she’d grabbed him the plain black coffee that he liked. Pulling up behind his car, she parked, and walked to the passenger side. Inside, he leaned over and opened the door. A coffee in each hand, she used her hip to open the door wider to climb in. He grabbed the wrong coffee from her, and took a sip. He coughed and made a disgusted face. “What the hell is this?”

Rebecca sighed and settled into the seat, closing the door before removing the cup from his hand. “It’s my pumpkin spice latte. This,” she placed the other cup in his grip, “is yours.”

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