When Ghosts Come Home(60)

“Cheer up,” Danny said. He leaned his body against hers, and she grabbed the bar to keep from toppling off her stool.

“I am cheery,” she said. “I’m full of cheer.”

“Bullshit,” he said. “You look worn-out and angry.”

“This is my ‘I just lost my baby and my marriage is unraveling’ Halloween costume,” she said.

“Oh, honey,” he said. He took a drag from his cigarette and put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. She felt him turn his head to blow smoke away from her.

“I just can’t believe Myra Page told you about what happened at the grocery store,” she said. “How embarrassing.”

Danny took his arm from around her and sat up straight. He tapped his cigarette into the ashtray. “Myra didn’t tell me,” he said. He took a drag and blew more smoke. “Rebecca Henderson did. She’s one of my daddy’s agents, and Myra’s the one who told her.”

“Jesus,” Colleen said. She dropped her forehead into her hands, the heaviness of her own head almost rocking her off the stool again. “That’s even worse.”

“Oh, come on,” Danny said. “Who cares about those little tramps? Did you get a look at Myra’s baby? If Pete thinks it’s his then he’s dumber than she is. If that girl had as many poking out as she’s had poking in she’d be a damn porcupine.”

Colleen raised her head to the ceiling and laughed. Danny smiled and took another drag.

“That’s right,” he said. “Keep your head up. You don’t need to worry about what anyone on this damned island thinks. You’re a Dallas girl now. Don’t mess with Texas, bitches.” He turned toward her so that his knees touched hers. He lifted his cigarette and pointed toward the beach outside. “And later, when you vomit on the beach out there, I’m going to be right beside you, holding your hair.”

She leaned forward and rested her head on his shoulder. He dropped his cigarette in the ashtray on the bar and put his arms around her.

“Come on, now,” he whispered. He rubbed her back. “Come on, now,” he said again.

“You always make me feel better,” she said. She sat up and looked at him. “Thank you for calling me. I wish I were more fun.”

He gasped and widened his eyes as if gravely offended by what she’d just said. “You can beat me, tie me up, and make me write bad checks,” he said. “But don’t you dare bore me. Lord knows nothing about you has ever bored me.”

“Well, thanks for listening to me bitch about my life,” Colleen said.

She picked up her near-empty beer bottle and took the last swig. When she set it down, something caught the corner of her eye, and she turned to see a man looming behind Danny. He was dressed like Jason Voorhees from Friday the 13th, complete with the dirty hockey mask and tattered black union suit. Danny had no idea that the man was there until he saw the look on Colleen’s face. Then he turned his head and peered over his shoulder. He gave a weak smile, and then he made a face at Colleen and laughed like he didn’t know what else to do. The man wearing the hockey mask groaned and shuffled his feet as if he were trying to go through Danny to get to the bar. Danny tried to laugh it off, but when the man didn’t stop leaning into him, Danny put his forearm against the man’s chest. “All right,” Danny said. “That’s enough. You’re going to spill my beer.”

The man in the hockey mask lifted a machete that had remained hidden until that moment. It all happened so quickly that Colleen realized that the machete was made of plastic only when it grazed Danny’s cheek without drawing blood. Danny slapped the machete away from his face and sprang from his bar stool. Colleen had never seen Danny fight—had never even imagined him in a fight—and she did not know what would happen if one broke out now.

But a fight didn’t break out. The man with the machete laughed and lifted his hockey mask, revealing a handsome face and a blond haircut that reminded Colleen of nearly every guy she’d known in law school.

“Come on, Danny,” the man said. “I’m just messing with you.”

“Jesus, Brad,” Danny said. He collapsed back onto his bar stool as if he were suddenly exhausted by the specter of an altercation. “I didn’t know who the hell you were.”

“I’m Jason Voorhees,” the man said. He looked down at his costume as if checking to make sure he’d worn the right outfit. “Come on, I got the hockey mask and everything.”

“That’s not what I meant, Brad,” Danny said. He shook out another cigarette and lit it.

Brad reached around Danny and set his machete and mask on the bar, and then he put his hands on Danny’s shoulders and made a show of massaging them. “Relax, Danny,” he said. “Relax and tell me what’s up with the sales out in Plantation Cove. I thought you’d be slinging some more home sites for me.”

“Market’s been slow this fall,” Danny said. “It’ll pick up. It always does.”

“Yeah,” Brad said. He stopped his massage and patted Danny’s shoulders with both hands. “Let’s hope it does.” He looked over at Colleen and smiled. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“This is Colleen,” Danny said. He gave Colleen a quick look that was part apology and part cry for help.