Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
There I sat in the back corner booth of Falston’s shit poor excuse for an all-in-one diner, newspaper stand, and host to the chess club on Tuesdays at two o’clock.
Full of It was the name of this place; the original owner apparently thought they had a sense of humor. The only thing this place was full of was dirty dishes and even filthier secrets when the Town Council came in for morning coffee and stale crumbcake.
My spoon dove back into the chili that Chef Joe swore came from a secret recipe that his great-granddaddy had perfected. The square of cornbread sat resting on the flat edge of the bowl as I shoveled more of the savory mixture of beans and meat into my mouth.
That’s when I saw Corbin finally show himself. He took a seat across from me, the cushion’s springs squeaking in a pathetic protest.
He dragged a palm over his face, looking like his feathers had been thoroughly ruffled.
“Took you long enough.” I paused mid-spoonful as I watched his fingers restlessly drum on the tabletop. “What’s gotten up your dickhole?”
His eyes stared at a chip on the edge of my bowl, his relentless rhythm continued against the formica surface. In one snap of a movement, his eyes jerked upward to meet mine, and his fingers stalled.
“She’s not normal.”
I snorted. “Girl’s a freakshow, could have told you that,” I said before dipping the spoon back into the chili.
Corbin’s gaze darkened, and I ignored it.
While I opened up a small plastic tab of peanut butter, my occasional glimpse across the table picked up on the way his jaw worked. It was almost like he was trying to grind his teeth down to dust.
Using a butter knife, I scraped out the creamy spread into the center of the chef’s pride and joy.
“You’re a fucking crime against humanity,” Corbin gritted out as he reached over and snatched the cornbread from the edge of the bowl while I stirred the nutty goodness into the beef and beans concoction.
Shrugging, I shoveled a spoonful into my mouth. The eclectic flavor combination struck every taste bud magnificently. Fuck what anyone else thought.
Pineapple still didn’t belong on pizza, though.
“Corb, just relax. Your girl is coming to the opening ceremony tonight. Go rub one out in the bathroom if you have to.” I jerked my chin to the side, where the single stall bathroom remained unoccupied.
The air of unease surrounding him didn’t let up as he aggressively bit into the dry square of bread. Yellow crumbs rained down over the table and stood out against the dark fabric of his hoodie.
“Did you sense anything about her when she pushed past us earlier?”
Mouth full of food, I swallowed it down slowly at his question.
I sure as hell had sensed something. Couldn’t have told a soul what it was, but it had been a flash of heat and friction.
It had reminded me of the sensation of a match connecting with the striking surface on the side of the box—quick, rough, and violent warmth.
Wary of what he might say next, I chose my words carefully. “Sensed something? Like what?” One brow quirked up.
Gods help me if he has come up with some bird-brained theory.
After finishing the cornbread he stole from me, his fingers brushed the evidence off his shirt.
“Ran into her at the General Store. Things were going well. Then…”
His one shoulder popped up, and he made a gesture with his hand that I had no idea what the fuck it meant.
“Then? Then, what? Corbin, man. What’s this supposed to mean?” I mimicked the gesture he had just made with his hand, a lazy flick to the side with fingers sweeping through the air.
“She disappeared.”
“Shocked.” I spooned a heaping helping of chili into my mouth. “I’d run from your storm cloud aesthetic, too.”
“Literally, Bale. One second I was up against her, looked away for a split second, and the next thing I know, it was like she was never there at all,” he explained. Each word held deep contemplation behind it.
Initially, the word impossible came to mind. Then, doubt crept in.
I laid my spoon down with a quiet clink against the ceramic bowl, and slowly wiped my mouth, forever staining the overused napkin in my hand.
Allowing my brain to mull over the potential explanations, I sat back in the booth.
“Disappeared, huh?”
Corbin nodded. “Thin air. You don’t think she’s—”
Anger flashed through my veins before I cut him off. “No. Don’t. Never fucking go there.” I didn’t want to consider any possibility that we had a clusterfuck of a situation on our hands.
He leaned over the table, dropping his voice to a whisper. “But if she is? This could be our year, Bale.”
My nostrils flared as I shoved my half-eaten bowl of chili to the side before mirroring his lean across the table.
“If she is, then we’re fucked,” I said harshly. “We’ll burn and so will she.”
Jabbing my finger in his direction. “Keep your damn girlfriend to yourself if you must, but mark my words that if she’s anything but some awkward chick with an attitude, I’m not holding back during the hunt.”
That earned me a murderous expression from Corbin. Good, I had struck a nerve that needed to be sliced open. We couldn’t afford frilly feelings if our lives were on the line.
We spent far too long deadlocked in a staring contest. Hell, we may have stayed that way for another week if it weren’t for a fresh group of patrons wandering in through the door. Their laughter and chatter disturbed the otherwise sleepy ambiance inside the diner.
Corbin’s head turned with an eerily slow movement, too slow. A purposeful shift in his demeanor, promising pain to anyone who so much as blinked in a way that annoyed him.
My eyes flicked to the quartet that made up the Town Council—Mayor Jacob Dennison, Sheriff Pauline Hawkins, Edward MacElroy, and Marjorie Kiln.
Trailing behind them like a lost puppy was a man I’d never seen before. Britches too tight, hat too big, and radiating nauseating golden retriever energy. Too eager to fit in, too eager to please.
“Who’s that?” The question came out more like a growl.
“That would be Harlow’s dad,” Corbin’s strained voice replied.
Of course it was. Of. Fucking. Course.
Reason number four-hundred and fifteen to hate her.
Lies. It was number three. Maybe.
Gradually, I eased back into my seat. I draped an arm along the back of the booth, giving off an aura of nonchalance. Though the way my jaw was locked down tight enough to potentially decimate my molars betrayed me.
I don’t know how Corbin managed to maintain a look of statuesque stillness. It was like bearing witness to a lion waiting to pounce through the weeds, if that lion were carved out of marble.
The crew unexpectedly slowed to a stop at the edge of our table. Sheriff Hawkins gave a thin-lipped smile.
“Didn’t expect to see you boys here. Thought you would be helping set up for the opening festivities tonight. The sun isn’t getting any higher in the sky.”
Blow me, bitch. Can’t be worse than your daughter.
Across from me, Corbin must have picked up on the way my fingers twitched towards the blunt-edged knife resting near my bowl of chili. He intervened with a tone cooler than the autumn mornings around here.
“Don’t worry, Sheriff. I already dropped off the birdseed the Mayor requested.” His smile showed a few too many teeth in a slow spread across his face.
Undeterred by Corbin’s effort to keep things cordial, I retrieved the peanut butter-smeared knife anyway. Held it loosely, not wielding it threateningly, but prepared to if needed.
Idly, I tapped the tip of the knife on the edge of my bowl in a consistent rhythm.
Tap. Tap-tap. Pause. Tap-tap. Pause. Tap.
Repeated it over and over while maintaining unforgiving eye contact with Sheriff Hawkins.
In my peripheral, movement distracted me, and I watched as Marjorie leaned over and whispered to Harlow’s dad. I’m sure it was likely some warning about Falston’s troublesome duo. It seemed like something the principal of Falston High would do.
MacElroy looked like he wanted to be anywhere but here. Smart man. I guess that’s why everyone trusted him as the local bank manager where all of Falston held their accounts.
As for Mayor Dennison? Stonefaced. Even his words carried the cold of the grave. “And what have you done all day, Bale?”
My knife paused.
“Counted crows.” I met his steely gaze with one of my own. I paused long enough to let the implication of the old lore settle as comfortably as a cross frame up one’s ass.
Shifting in my seat, I added, “The paper ones being used as targets for the apple cannons, of course.”
“Of course.” He stroked his fingers over the patchy grey goatee around his mouth. “And tell me, just how many crows were there?”
I had been hoping he’d ask; my cocky-as-shit smirk didn’t hide it either.
“It’s not a good number this year.”
He slipped his hands into his dress slacks, but not before I caught how his hands curled into tight fists. “Pity. I suppose we’ll have to reevaluate for future festivals.”
“Suppose so. Though, if you’d like my humble opinion, I recommend reevaluating more than just the rotting apples in this town.”
The icy glare that broke through his composure gave me more than enough petty satisfaction that I released an amused chuckle under my breath. Oh, this year was going to be fun.
A forced laugh came from Harlow’s dad as he pushed forward between Marjorie and Sheriff Hawkins. He immediately jutted out his hand in greeting toward me.
“Hey now, I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Wade Lenoir. My family and I just moved into the old Faust property. I’ve been trying to make my rounds with everybody in town.”
I looked down at his open palm and then back up to his unremarkable brown eyes that were only filled with a needy desire for acceptance.
Taking his hand, I gave it a squeeze more than a shake. “Bale Halloway.”
“Nice to meet ya, Bale!” He turned and presented his hand to Corbin with the same vibrant energy, attempting to dispel the tension that had built up around our table.
“Corbin,” he muttered with a quick shake of the man’s hand.
“Didn’t quite catch a last name there, Corbin. As I tell all my clients, a person without pride in their identity risks losing their sparkle in the universe. It’s step ‘P’ in my seven-step program.”
What the fuck type of drugs did this guy take?
I began to reconsider my initial opinions on his daughter. Harlow may very well be as rare as a godsdamn purple pumpkin if this is what she had grown up with. The corn maze hunt could potentially turn into a mercy killing if she were truly related to this fool.
Corbin made a movement reminiscent of a violent ruffling of feathers that he currently didn’t have.
“Just… Corbin.”
“Aw, come now. There are no strangers in a place like this.” He gestured at the mostly empty space around us.
Taking one for the team, I interjected myself. “Look, Wayne—”
“Wade,” he corrected, but I waved a hand dismissively at the slight.
“Right, Wade. How are you liking Falston so far?” I inquired without truly giving a shit about his response.
He immediately launched into some long-winded spiel about the beauty of nature, how the town exemplifies step ‘E’ of his fucking bullshit program, and the value of people coming together in small communities.
I drowned most of it out, watching as the rest of the Council shared glances amongst themselves. Something unreadable passing between them all. It wasn’t just a disinterest in Wade’s passion for acronyms; it stank of one of their schemes.
Sheriff Hawkins, for all her faults, graciously put an end to the rambling.
“Wade, I wouldn’t waste your breath.” She led the group away, then tossed over her shoulder as she perched on a seat at the lunch counter.
“They aren’t even eligible to vote on matters of the town.
Corbin and Bale are merely honorary residents of Falston; their land is just beyond the town’s official borders. ”
Not by choice. They had redrawn the maps, leaving our land in an unincorporated grey patch of no man’s land. But one day, Corbin and I would take back what had been lost.
One fall festival at a time.