Chapter 3
The café felt like springtime, bright and inviting when I walked in out of the torrential downpour. I stood soaking up the warmth as I hung my jacket on a hook by the door. I almost always stopped for a salad before I went to work at the Gas and More so I didn't nibble on the snacks the shop all night. Sometimes it even worked.
I glanced across the street at the hotel, wondering if Derrick sat up there in his room or not. Did he have friends to go visit? From what I'd seen last night, he had no intention of visiting with the Westons.
I dismissed him from my mind until he stood over my table a few minutes later. I felt nearly as startled to see him now as I had been when he walked into the Gas and More last night.
"I came to apologize," he said.
I started to say something and fumbled my fork, which hit the side of the salad bowl and bounced off and slipped past my fingers like a live thing as I tried to catch the damned thing. The fork clanged against the table, hit the seat beside me, and landed on the floor at my feet. I could feel my face going bright red.
"No one has ever acted that way when I apologized before."
"Probably because it's so rare you wouldn't know." I grabbed the other set of silverware on the table and unwrapped the napkin. Then I made an attempt to improve my manners. "Thank you for the apology."
"I -- I'd had a bad encounter with my step-brother." He grimaced and shifted as though his leg bothered him. "But that still doesn't give me the right to take it out on someone else."
He started to step past. I lifted a hand. "You can join me if you like, but I'm going to be leaving for work in a few minutes."
He smiled. Yeah, my heart did a little flip again, damn high school hormones come back to haunt me. He slid into the seat and Annie came back, an eyebrow raised as she took his order for a cup of coffee. The look she gave me would have been comical if I hadn't been turning red again.
Derrick ignored her and my blush. I liked him better again.
"The town doesn't seem to have changed much," he said, glancing out the window where a car sped past on the highway. "Except this place seems colder than I remember."
"We're having a cold October," I replied, grateful for the small talk. My fork remained firmly in my hand this time. "Where do you live now?"
"Florida."
"Wet down there, right?"
"Yes, but the rain doesn't turn to hard ice stuff." He grinned. "The weather report said we might get snow tomorrow. I hope not. I want to see my grandfather buried without any problems, so I can get the hell out of here as fast as I can." He gave me an apologetic shrug. "Sorry. That was rude, too, wasn't it?"
"Not everyone has to love Redlin." I didn't think I sounded sincere. He grinned.
"Hey Ginger." Mark Peppers dropped a hand on the back of the booth, stopping as he headed for the register. He glanced at Derrick, a frown on his weathered, craggy face, before he looked back at me. "You heading for work?"
"In a few minutes," I said, trying to wish the older man away.
"You be careful there tonight. You heard about the robberies last night, right?"
"More of them?" I asked, curious now. Derrick frowned, though I couldn't decide why.
"Three of them -- two gas station convenience stores, and one grocery store, all more than a hundred miles from here, but still... they shot two clerks. One of them is dead."
There hadn't been any shootings before this. The salad sat like a rock in my stomach now. I put down the fork before I dropped this one and gave Mark a nod and half smile. "Thank you for letting me know."
"You be careful, young lady."
He headed toward the register. Derrick sipped at his coffee, watching me over the rim of the cup. When I got up to leave, so did he. I paid for my lunch, he paid for his coffee. I went out . . . and within a few yards, I realized he intended to come to the store with me.
"Derrick --"
"I don't have anything to do today. I hate cable television. I already called back to Florida twice. They won't let me into my grandfather's apartment until after the burial. So, if you don't mind, I'll come and hang out with you for a while."
I stopped and turned to him. "You heard what Mark said."
"Yes. And it might not hurt to have someone else keeping an eye open tonight, don't you think?" He gave a little half shrug. "Let me do this. Let me have something to do so I'm not sitting in my room waiting for Junior to show up again."
"I wouldn't mind the company for a while," I admitted. Mark's news had spooked me, though I wouldn't say so aloud. "But you don't have to stay all night."
"Fair enough."
My cousin Scott barely grunted goodbye when I took over. Yeah, it's mostly family running the shop. I keyed the register over to me, took care of a customer Scott had abandoned in his haste to get away, and then grabbed a chair out of the back room so Derrick could sit while we talked.
Derrick turned out to be nice company. We talked about high school, though I steered clear of anything touching on the trouble he'd always been in.
"So, are many of the class still around?" he asked.
"Reba is," I answered with a bit of a snarl.
He winced -- and I remembered, too late, how the two of them had been hot and heavy -- and in a lot of trouble for sneaking off together when they should have been in class.
"She's married now and has three kids," I offered.
"Oh. Good. Good for her, I mean. Glad she found someone."
Good reaction. He might even have blushed. I smiled, until I heard the sound of a distant car --
"Junior's on his way," I warned. "You should get out of sight. Damn. Customer in the wash room already --"
"How the hell can you tell Junior-- oh. For a second I thought you were psychic." He glanced toward the gas pumps, but only a white Subaru sat under the awning. "He might be heading somewhere else --"
"He always stops here on his way home from work to buy his nightly twelve pack."
"Figures. I'll stick with you. I don't want to run and hide every time one of the Westons show up."
"Derrick --"
"If he gets rowdy again, we'll go outside. He might be smart. You have a video camera going and he's paranoid about those things."
"Doesn't stop him from making passes at me."
"I'm surprised Sally married him and has stuck around."
So, he knew a little bit about what went on with the Westons. That surprised me. The truck pulled up in front of the door, the muffler so loud the sound shook the windows when he revved the engine. The dogs paced around in the back, drenched and unhappy. He took them to work at the junk yard over in Crawford most days. Sometimes they came back with torn ears and limps -- another reason we thought he had a dog fighting ring, though the cops hadn't been able to track down the place. I knew they tried, though. No one liked the Westons much.
Today, three of the dogs leapt out of the back and yapped and growled as he swaggered up to the door, covered in grease and mud and God knew what else. He always acted like I should find it sexy.
"Thank God I'm not related to the Westons," Derrick suddenly said and made me grin, despite the situation.
Junior came inside, yelling obscenities at the dogs. The dogs bounced against the door after he came through, leaving long muddy streaks, which annoyed me more.
Junior spotted Derrick. I started to back away, even with the counter between me and him. I'd never want to see anyone turn such anger on me, and I dared a glance at Derrick. He'd kept his place, and the placid look on his face must have annoyed Junior all the more. He took four stomping steps closer, his hands in fists at his side.
"What the hell are you doing here?" Junior growled, sounding far too much like his dogs.
Derrick smiled. "None of your business."
Junior's face went scarlet red beneath the streaks of grease. He took another step forward and I had my hand on the phone, ready to call in help before he got out of hand. But he stopped again, panting as
though he had run the last step.
"You want another go?" Junior asked, lifting one fist. "I'm ready for you this time, you sneaky little bastard."
I saw the customer step out of the bathroom, and look around, worried. He saw Junior's fist, and the dogs blocking the way out. He reached for his cell phone and stepped back out of sight.
"Junior get your damned dogs away from the door," I ordered, drawing his attention after all. "I have customers, and if you don't get them out of here, I'm going to call the cops --"
He spun, cursing and went back to the door, grabbing the dogs by the collars and dragging them into the truck bed. I saw my single customer -- a guy from a town down the road --decide to leave. He scurried out and to the car, forgetting the bread he'd left on the counter. I wouldn't get that sale today.
"I'm sorry, Ginger," Derrick said. "I should have thought about him showing up here. I'll go out --"
"No, don't." I put a hand on his arm. "Stay here. He doesn't like witnesses."
"He's mad, Ginger. I doubt -- damn."
Junior already pulled the door open and came back in. I'd hoped he'd drive away, but somehow I knew better. Unfortunately, Junior never had much sense. He shoved the door open so hard it hit the stand of books and sent some of them flying.
"Damn!" I came around the counter, startling him. Startling me, in fact. "I've had enough of this childishness. Get your beer and get out. If there's any more trouble, I'm calling the cops, Junior. Don't push me."
"Me and Derrick have unfinished business," he growled, suddenly not looking any better than his half wild dogs. "You just keep out of it. Ain't nothing to concern you, missy."
"I am not missy. And as long as you keep bringing your adolescent bully hormones into this store, and what you do here is my business. Get out. Don't even bother with the beer tonight. Go."
I took a step toward him. He stood his ground and I knew I'd gone too far. My heart started beating even harder. I didn't want trouble with Junior -- not now, and not in the future. Unfortunately, Junior never forgot an enemy --
"Let's go outside, Junior." Derrick went past me and to the door. He pushed it open, the cold wet breeze blowing in over us.
"I'll be back to talk to you, missy." Junior gave me a gap-toothed smile before he spun and followed Derrick out.
I started shaking so badly I had trouble walking back to the counter. The reaction didn't come from fear -- mostly -- but rather rage. I grabbed the phone and started to dial for the cops --
Before I could begin, Deputy Miller's car arrived in the parking lot, squealing to a stop just as Junior gave Derrick a shove. I remembered the customer and the cell phone and gave a sigh of relief.
Miller may not have liked Derrick, but everyone knew he truly hated Junior. When Miller put his hand to his gun, Junior backed off very fast. Derrick stood with his hand held out from his side, in a gesture obviously meant to show he didn't intend any trouble. Miller nodded and signaled him back away from the truck. Then Miller went to Junior and they had a short and very loud discussion, and most of the words I heard weren't worth repeating.
Junior finally drove away, gunning the engine as though he dared Miller to follow him. I saw the deputy watch the departing truck with a shake of his head before he turned back to Derrick. Their discussion remained too quiet for me to hear.
I started to calm again as well. I sat back down on the stool and noticed the books on the floor -- I didn't want to go near the door for fear Derrick and Miller would think I came to spy on them. I did see Derrick give a shake of his head, obviously not happy with whatever Miller told him, but then he nodded and so did Miller.
Derrick gestured toward the shop and Miller shook his head. Derrick seemed to disagree, but they must have come to some understanding. A moment later Miller left and Derrick came back in, fighting the door open with his good hand.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't expect Junior to show up here."
"I should have remembered he would stop here." I shrugged. "No harm done, unless he got you into trouble with Miller."
"Miller and I have come to an understanding -- mostly because I'm not going to be here long enough to make any difference."
He started to lean down and pick up books. I crossed to the stand.
"I'll hand them up to you and you can put them on the rack."
He nodded and helped, though he did start making disparaging remarks before too long. "Loves Lost Innocence, Maggie's May Marriage -- Who reads this stuff?"
"Truckers," I said and he laughed again.
We got the rest of the books up while talking about what we liked to read. He liked police novels -- odd choice, I thought, but didn't say anything. I read about anything the distributor dropped on the racks here, especially since most nights were long and boring.
This was not one of those nights.
When we were done, Derrick offered a hand to help me up. I didn't think he looked very steady, but I accepted and came up mostly on my own.
He had a nice, warm hand. Soft skin, like he'd never worked hard in his life. I wondered how he bought those nice clothes and put all the cash in his billfold -- but I didn't ask.
We spent some more time talking about school and laughing. Some of the people who came seemed startled to see Derrick, but didn't seem bothered to see him. We even talked about his grandfather, whom he hadn't known. I thought that a shame, because Derrick would have liked him.
And then we heard Junior's truck again -- and we both stopped, but the sound didn't come any closer.
"Must have been heading into town," I said with a sigh of relief.
"So, what kind of excitement do you have around here?" he asked.
"Apple Days is this weekend."
"Oh God, you people don't still do that crap, do you?" He rolled his eyes as he took his seat on the second stool.
"Your grandfather loved Apple Days," I said, daring him to make another dismissive sound.
"I'm not my grandfather." He leaned against the counter looking more like the sullen teenager I remembered from high school. "I don't see why you people bother with crap like this anyway."
"What have you got against people getting together and enjoying each other's company?"
"Why bother? You all know everything about everyone else anyway. People did nothing but gossip in this town."
"We don't gossip. We like to get together for our festivals. It's neighborly." I tried not to frown at how Mayberry those words sounded. Then I didn't care. He lived in Florida, where neighborly probably meant the people next door didn't shoot at your walls after midnight on holidays -- if they really, really liked you.
Derrick still shook his head. "If you ever got away from here --"
"I lived four years in Pittsburgh," I answered, cutting him short. "I know all about big town hospitality and how much better city life is."
"Well, granted, Pittsburgh isn't my favorite town in the world, but maybe if you had a reason to like the place -- a family --"
"I was married."
"And from the sounds of things, married life didn't appeal to you any more than life in the big city."
"No, it didn't." I glared at him, hating the self-indulgent holier-than-thou look. "Fine, you have the perfect wife and kids --"
He straightened as though I had slapped him. "I didn't tell you anything about Sharon and the kids."
"I saw the picture in your billfold."
"You went through my billfold?" he said, frowning even worse.
"No, I did not!" I answered, annoyed by his entire attitude now. "The billfold fell and opened to the picture."
His mouth clamped shut and his eyes narrowed in anger. I didn't know what had set him off. Sure, he didn't like Apple Days. Fine. He didn't have to take part, after all. The guy wasn't going to stick around, and what we did --
He pulled out his billfold and held it in his hand for a moment. Then he dropped it.
I looked down at the floor and saw the same picture. I felt a new wave of
anger. "You didn't believe me."
"No, I didn't." He bent and awkwardly to pick it up, and I didn't move to help him, either. "I'm sorry. I just. . . . He glanced at the picture in his hand for a moment and turned back to me. "I don't talk about my family. Not to anyone."
"Did you pick that habit up from Junior? If you don't talk about her, you can pick up on other --"
"She died a year ago. Cancer."
Words caught in my mouth and my heart dropped. I realized I didn't see anger in his face -- I saw pain. Loss. "I'm sorry," I finally said.
He gave the same little shrug I remembered from High School. I wondered how much emotion he had hidden back then, too.
"I'm sorry I didn't believe you." He seemed to mean it.
"I shouldn't have --"
And my alarm clock went off. We both jumped.
"Well, I guess that marks the end of round one, huh?" he asked with a sudden smile.
I let the anger slip away and gave him a little laugh. "Sometimes I'm reading, and I lose track of time," I explained as I turned it off. "I set the thing for midnight so I can get closed and head home."
"Midnight already? The time sure went quickly."
"Yes, it did." I started my last round of clean up. I even regretted knowing I wouldn't have Derrick there for company again. He helped straighten some of the shelves, limping worse again, I thought.
But we got done quickly and I dropped the money into the safe and started shutting down the lights.
"You always walk to work?"
"Most of the time. I can't see wasting the gas. I don't live far."
"Your parent's house?" he asked.
"No. An apartment on Calia with my cousin."
"Ah. Well."
"I'll see you at the funeral tomorrow --"
"You're going?" he asked, surprised, and maybe a little distrustful again.
"I work at the Senior Center during the mornings. That's how I knew your grandfather so well. Ornery old buzzard with a wicked sense of humor. Yes, I'll be there."
He nodded, apparently relieved. Maybe he hadn't thought about anyone else at the service. We stepped out into the cold night -- the ice hadn't come yet, but the night felt cold enough already. He slipped a little as we stepped away from the building. I walked along with him, pointing out my apartment. Two cars passed on the road, and we reached the lot --
"Son of a bitch." Derrick suddenly moved ahead of me and stopped by a nice car with all the tires slashed, and the mirrors broken off. I thought the paint had been scratched too, but I couldn't see clearly in the near dark.
"Derrick --
He glanced back at me. I saw the way he had his mouth clamped closed against many things he probably wanted to say.
"We should call Miller," I said, trying not to wince at the words.
He took a breath, staring at the car. "Yes, you're right. Damn. It's too late to get any tires tonight -- and the funeral tomorrow --"
"I'll take you to the funeral. Call it payment for keeping me company tonight. The robberies have me spooked."
He had started to say something and stopped again. Then he sighed. "Okay, yes. Thank you -- there, I said it twice in one day."
"Past midnight. You're safe."
He gave a little smile. "Let me walk you the rest of the way home. No, don't argue. I'll feel better knowing you got home safely. I don't trust Junior and he was mad at you tonight, too."
I shivered, but I'm not sure he saw. Then I glanced at my apartment and nodded.
"Yes, that would be nice. I can call Miller from there, if you like --"
"No. I'll call him when I get back here. I'm sure we're going to have a few things to say to each other, and I need to get cooled off first."
"A nice walk in cold night will do it," I said.
"I didn't notice. Nice company."
I blushed, grateful for the dark night. The walk seemed too short. We parted with polite goodbyes at the door to my building, and I have to admit I rather wished his car hadn't been vandalized or that I didn't live with my younger cousin. I would have spent more time with him.
Then I remembered he would be leaving in a couple days and thought maybe this parting at the apartment building might be a good idea after all. I didn't need to get my heartstrings awakened now, especially with someone so obviously trouble -- and not sticking around.
I went up to the apartment and watched him trudging back toward the hotel. A few minutes later I saw Miller show up and gave a sigh of relief. I had feared Junior would arrive instead.
I went to bed, but I didn't sleep much at all.