Chapter 11
BODIE
“Dammit. Think you could have handled that any worse?” I slammed the door to my truck behind me. Pops had climbed in the backseat while my dad took up more than half of the front.
“It’ll work out the way it’s supposed to, you’ll see. I know you’ve got a soft spot for those folks. Talk some sense into that filly before she goes and gets in over her head, will you?” Dad pulled one of his cigars from his front pocket.
“I don’t know what you’ve got planned, but Lacey Cherish is off-limits, you understand?” I shot a glance at my dad. “And put that thing away. You’re not smoking in my truck.”
Dad ignored me, lighting up the cigar with the custom filigreed lighter he’d picked up in Mexico.
“I knew I shouldn’t have let you spend so much time at their place when you were a kid.
Luke was all right but their dad’s got a soft head on his shoulders.
And now his daughter’s following in his footsteps.
She’d best mind her own business and work out her little wedding plans without mucking up what we’ve got going on. ”
“Dad, you understand it’s my job to uphold the law, right?”
“Of course. You don’t know how proud it makes me to be able to say my son is a member of Idont’s finest.”
I shook my head. “You know Lacey’s changing the name of the town. Better start referring to it as Ido. And can you please put that thing out?”
Dad rolled the window down an inch. “Nonsense. Don’t you go getting all soft on me, too.”
A firm hand clamped on to my shoulder. Pops leaned forward, between the bucket seats. “Family comes first. Bodie knows that.”
I met my grandfather’s gaze in the rearview mirror.
Pops’s blue eyes stuck out against his weathered, leathery skin.
Yeah, family did come first. That fact had been drilled into me since I was a kid.
But I’d recently noticed my dad and pops seemed to adhere to their personal mantra only when it suited them.
“You got time for supper at the house tonight?” Dad asked. “Your mother’s been cookin’ up a storm. I think she even asked Maria to make some of those tamales you like.”
My stomach gurgled at the thought of Maria’s tamales. She’d been best friends with my mom since grade school. The two of them rarely spent time in the kitchen anymore, but when they did . . . I’d gone into a food coma multiple times after indulging in Maria’s homemade family recipes.
“I could stick around for a bit.”
“Good. Gotta have something to wash away the taste of mediocrity.” Pops let out a gruff laugh.
There had never been good vibes between my family and the Cherish family.
At least not where the older generation was concerned.
But Luke and I had forged a fast friendship our first day of kindergarten and as much as my dad tried to encourage me to find someone else to hang out with beyond the Cherish family, I held my ground.
It finally got to the point where my dad gave up.
He didn’t like to involve himself in the child-rearing part of parenting, preferring to focus on his business and leave the day-to-day stuff to my mom.
I’d never quite figured out what caused the tension between my dad and Mr. Cherish but Luke and I had been gloriously ignorant of the details.
For some reason, now it seemed like my dad had it out for the Cherish family.
Mr. Cherish could hold his own, but I wouldn’t have Lacey get caught in the crosshairs. Not on my watch.
I’d spent most of my childhood looking out for Luke’s younger sister, so the sense of protectiveness didn’t surprise me. But the intensity of my need to keep her from harm did. I shook it off, leaving those thoughts for another day, as I pulled into the long drive leading to my parents’ house.
A decked-out dually truck sat on the concrete pad next to the garage.
“You expecting company?” I asked.
Dad flicked his cigar ash out the window as we came to a stop. “Just a little supper between friends. Come on in. Those tamales are waiting.”
Pops scrambled out of the backseat like a man a third his age. What did the two of them have planned? Reluctantly, I shifted the truck into park and followed the two men into the house.
“Phillips!” A booming voice echoed across the tile floors, bouncing off the adobe walls of my childhood home. Mayor Buck Little of Swynton took long strides across the foyer to wrap my dad in a half-hug handshake.
“Sorry we’re a little late. We had some business to take care of with our illustrious mayor.” Dad grinned—a kind of cat-devoured-the-canary type—as he nodded toward me. “You remember my son? Deputy Sheriff Phillips?”
“Of course.” Buck released his grip and stepped back, sizing me up with deep-set beady eyes. “How are you, son?”
I cringed at the familiarity. I didn’t want any link between me and Mayor Little. “Just fine. How about you, Mayor?”
We shook hands, and I added a little extra squeeze.
“Oh, I’m fine, just fine. And I’ll be even better once we get the particulars figured out.” He winked.
I backed away, feeling the need to take a nice, hot shower to rid myself of the heebie-jeebies that seemed to ooze out of Buck Little and taint anyone within a five-foot radius. I left my dad and pops to the mayor and moved toward the kitchen, where the smell of cumin and cilantro called.
“Hey, Mom.” I stopped behind where my mother stood at the counter, a glass of white wine in hand.
“Well, hello, sweetheart. What a nice surprise.” She tilted her head up. The smell of expensive perfume hit my nose as I pressed an obligatory kiss to her cheek.
“Dad said Maria was here with tamales.” I lifted my brows as I stalked toward where Maria stood, folding husks together to form her mouthwatering tamales.
“Your mom didn’t tell me you were coming.” She turned, giving me a hug, being careful to hold her hands out since they were covered in cornmeal.
“I didn’t know I was coming either until Dad mentioned your tamales.” I pulled her in close. Auntie Ria had been a fixture in my life for years. She and her husband had never had kids, so she used to spoil me rotten when I was younger.
“How long has it been?” She turned back to the task at hand.
I settled half my butt on a kitchen stool and watched her scoop, roll, and tie the tamales into neatly bound packages of deliciousness. “Been too long. You need to move back closer where we can see you more often.”
She and her husband had moved to Austin years ago. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d had one of her home-cooked dinners.
“Why don’t you help set the table, sweetheart?” my mom said, taking a sip of her wine.
“Who else is coming?” I asked, already heading for the cabinet where we stored the hand-thrown ceramic plates.
“Who knows? This is your father’s deal.” She set her glass down on the counter and reached for the silverware drawer.
I nodded. My mom had always steered clear of my dad’s business dealings.
I didn’t blame her. Ignorance was bliss.
Or at least ignorance didn’t keep her up at night, wondering what kind of business her husband was dealing in.
I wished I could look the other way like she seemed to be able to do.
But it took more than shopping trips to Dallas or cruises to the French Riviera to distract me.
My mom might be willing to embrace the oblivion, but I had a moral obligation to keep my family on the straight and narrow.
By the time dinner was ready we’d been joined by Mayor Little’s second-in-command along with his wife and son. I felt for the ten-year-old kid. He’d probably much rather be home playing video games or out with his friends.
As the older men covered safe topics like the price of oil and whether or not the Cowboys had been cheated out of a Super Bowl run, I kept my head down, listening to the conversation and enjoying every single bite.
By the time my mom pulled out the flan, I’d stuffed myself so full I couldn’t possibly eat anything else.
“We’re heading over to the office to talk shop.” My dad rose from the table. “Gentlemen?”
Although the meal had been one I’d remember for a long time, I had no intention of getting caught up in conversation with my dad and Mayor Little.
“Wish I could stick around but I’ve got to go.” I gave my mom a peck on the cheek, hugged Maria, and offered my hand to my dad.
“Buck wants to have a little chat with you, son.” Dad leaned in, his beer breath brushing against my ear.
“Not tonight. I’ve got a prior commitment.” I pulled my hand away and took long strides toward the foyer.
Dad followed. “It would be in your best interest to join us for a cigar and a whiskey.” With his thumbs tucked into the belt loops of his jeans, he leveled a penetrating gaze at me.
“Like I said, wish I could.” I grabbed my cowboy hat off the hook by the front door. “Maybe another time.”
I left the house, pulling the huge hand-carved door closed behind me.
As I walked down the path to my truck, I let out a breath.
My dad was getting too close to Mayor Little.
Something was going on, and I’d better figure it out before Lacey did.
If she caught wind of something unsavory taking place she’d latch on like a dog with a soup bone. I couldn’t let that happen.