Lineage(72)

Laughter echoed off the stony arms of the bay. The water, as flat as glass, still reflected the dying embers of the sun as it slid below the eastern horizon. Twin trails of white smoke slithered up into nonexistence from beneath the black grill’s hood on the deck, where the four men sat around a table strewn with bottles, bowls, plates, and silverware.

“So I said, ‘Mr. Jackson, I’d be happy to drive you home, but you need to put on some f*cking pants before you get in my car.’” Andy’s face remained deadpan as he finished the story to the raucous laughter of Stub and John.

Lance sat back, grinning, in his chair, a glass of wine held loosely in one hand. He had heard the story so many times that it didn’t elicit the same hilarity as when it was fresh, but it endeared him to his friend all the more each time Andy told it.

Stub’s large frame shook with mirth and the big man wiped away tears from the corners of his brown eyes. “That’s the funniest story I’ve ever heard,” Stub said, still chuckling. John sat nodding his agreement beside him as he sipped a beer.

Lance had worried earlier that morning about how Andy and the two small-town men would get along eating together at the same table, but after several hours in their company, he realized his fears had been needless. Initially Andy had cursed him for not letting him in on the fact that they would be dining with strangers, his anger fed by the disorder that made his cool business sense thrive and stripped him of the ability to interact comfortably on a social level.

“They’re just regular guys, you don’t need to worry,” Lance had assured him earlier in the afternoon before the guests had arrived.

“I wasn’t prepared for this, you should have told me you were having other people over,” Andy said, as he shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot in the kitchen, a glass of wine sloshing dangerously close to the rim.

“You deal with people every day, it’s your job,” Lance argued, knowing full well how his friend’s mind worked.

“That’s different. I prepare myself every day and everything’s planned out.” After nearly a bottle of Merlot and an hour of reassurance had passed, Andy grumbled his assent at the situation.

John and Stub arrived shortly before five, both dressed nicer than Lance had seen them previously. Conversation flowed well over dinner, and was lubricated by another bottle of wine. Andy finally relaxed and, from all Lance could tell, seemed to actually enjoy himself.

Currently, the discourse had subsided, each man sipping at his beverage and looking out at the vista of the lake before them.

“Sure is a nice evening,” John said.

“Yes, it is,” Stub said. All the men nodded.

“Stub, I’m curious about your former career. There’s got to be a ton of stories that pop up in that line of work,” Lance said, sitting forward and smiling at the big man across from him. Stub laughed, setting his half-finished beer onto the tabletop and folding his ham-sized hands over his considerable stomach.

“Oh, there’s a few. I once caught a pig farmer who’d skipped bail on a battery charge down in Indiana. Followed him to a farm that bordered his own. Turned out to be a friend of his who was hiding him and about fifty crates of illegal firearms in an outbuilding. I found him face-up in pile of pig shit with nothing but the whites of his eyes showing!” Stub slapped his knee and a new round of thunderous laughter issued from beneath the man’s tangled beard. “Turns out they heard I was coming and decided that was the best place to hide.” Stub shook his head in wonder, while John chuckled into his beer.

“Ever go after anyone real dangerous?” Andy asked. Stub’s laughter subsided and his eyes squinted as he took another sip of beer. Lance could see him struggle with something internally and, after a moment, make a decision.

“Went after a guy down in Florida once. Real piece a work. He was in and outta jail since he was sixteen. Last charge he pulled was rape, young woman barely twenty. Beat her half to death ’fore he did what he wanted with her. Lawyer got him out on bail somehow, and by the time I went after him, he’d disappeared pretty well.” Stub stopped and sighed.

“You don’t have to tell us if you don’t want to,” Lance said, his stomach tightening. Stub shook his head in dismissal.

“Not sayin’ it doesn’t make it untrue. I had a hunch after I’d been after him about four days. Went to the gal’s apartment that he’d raped. Found him sitting there in her easy chair, surrounded by what was left of her. He cut her into so many pieces, if I wouldn’t of known it was a person there on the floor, I woulda never guessed it. Pulled my gun on him and it took all the power in my body not to put a bullet between his eyes. He just sat there, smeared in that young lady’s blood, smiling like he had a secret that no one else knew.”