Chapter 10 Carson
End Zone Tavern is a happenin’ place with a live band playing popular country covers, patrons filling the tables, and an impromptu pool tournament courtesy of the CVU East baseball team taking on the CVU West a capella group—Sexy Pitches.
In other words, just your average Thursday night here in Cedar Vale.
Not much else to do, so we entertain ourselves with booze and shenanigans.
Owen, Roscoe, and I are posted up around the bar, which sits in a prominent spot right in the center.
It’s surrounded by barstools on all but one side, and every single one of them is occupied.
I keep scanning the room, pretending I’m checking out the wood-paneled walls and neon signs that have been around since probably the eighties.
Really, I’m just hoping Nik will walk through the door.
She’s managed to avoid us the last few days, and none of us have been willing to breach the one place we know we’d find her—the bookstore. If she needs space, we can give her that. What’s a few more hours on top of the years we’ve already waited?
“Bro, practice was brutal.” Owen lifts his beer, taking a healthy swallow.
“Only cuz y’all were playing like shit,” I quip.
Roscoe glares at me. “Says the kicker who missed seven out of ten attempts.”
“Ouch, dude.” My hand flies to my heart. “That cut deep.”
“Rough day, boys?” Bea Samson asks from behind the bar.
At thirty-eight, she’s a force to be reckoned with.
She’s lived here her whole life, been married once, divorced once, and has now sworn off marriage for good.
Gotta be honest, though. She was my first crush, and even now she’s MILF material.
In her tight black tank and skin-tight jeans, her body is smokin’.
I couldn’t give two shits less if she’s decided to let her grays grow out, or if her curves are more than a handful.
I can’t fathom how any idiot could have her and lose her unless he’s a complete fuck nugget.
“Get your eyes off my tits, Levins, or I’ll tell Cass about that incident back when you were sixteen.”
My startled gaze darts up to Bea’s amused face. “You swore you’d never tell anyone about that, but especially not Cass.”
If my sister finds out Bea caught me jacking off to a photo of her in the bathroom, I’ll never live that down.
“And I’ll keep that promise, assuming you keep yours.”
“You two have secrets?” Owen leans forward, looking past Roscoe to nail me with an determined stare.
“Yes. And it’s damn well gonna stay that way.”
Bea’s laugh is loud and raspy. “Don’t worry. I won’t mess up your chances with Nik. That girl has had a rough go of it, and, believe it or not, I think you boys would be good for her.”
Roscoe tosses back the last of his one finger of whiskey—the only vice he’ll allow himself during the season. “Doesn’t matter as long as her dickhead brother is in the way.”
Bea places both palms on the mahogany bartop, leans in, and gives us all a onceover. About ten solid seconds go by before she shakes her head. “Never thought I’d say this, but you boys are pathetic.”
Owen’s brows crease together. “What do you mean?”
“I mean…” She rolls her big brown eyes. “Are you really gonna sit back and let Dre dictate what you do with his very intelligent, very adult sister? Y’all aren’t teenagers anymore, and I’m not so sure she’ll blindly follow him the way she used to.
Girl’s got gumption. Always has. I like that about her.
But at the end of the day, if you’re not willing to fight for her, then you’re not worthy of her. ”
She stalks off, leaving us staring at her back as she helps another patron.
“She’s not wrong.” I tip my bottle in her direction. “Maybe it’s time we shit or get off the pot, fellas.”
“Gross,” Roscoe mutters.
“No, he’s right. We—”
“Incoming.” Bea nods toward the door as she walks by.
I follow her gaze, spotting the turd burglar ex walking toward the bar.
No. Scratch that.
He’s walking toward us wearing a pair of khakis that bare his ankles, a navy button down that’s tucked in, and a pair of brown loafers that I swear my grandpa used to own.
I can’t quite put together the smalltown girl who used to wear braids and cut-off jean shorts with this airbrushed-looking motherfucker.
She never used to care about fashion or status or how much money someone had.
Surely she hasn’t changed that much since high school.
“Good evening,” the cultured asshole says, unable to hide the hint of distaste from his tone. “I was wondering if I might have a word with the three of you?”
Swiveling on my stool, I lean against the bartop with my beer in one hand and flip my hat with the other. “My mother always taught me that if I don’t have anything nice to say, don’t say nothin’ at all.”
Roscoe nods. “Same.”
Owen doesn’t even bother turning around. He just glances over his shoulder like the asshole isn’t worthy of his time, lifts his beer, and says, “Look, I’m not sure what you could possibly want to talk to us about. We have her. You don’t. End of story.”
The muscles in Frederick’s jaw grind as he tries to keep a lid on a temper that I’d bet my paltry inheritance is barely contained beneath a very thin, false exterior.
“I have a…” He looks around the room, noting the number of eyes on us, no doubt. “Proposition for you, but there are too many ears here. Let’s go outside and—”
“Don’t think you’re in a position to start making demands, dude.” My grin is wicked sharp and more menacing than Mr. Cartwright’s grumpy goat.
A loud glass clanks on the bartop, drawing our collective attention.
Gertie has perched herself halfway down the far side, bug eyes peering out through her thick glasses, settling in for the show.
He’s gone and done it now. Half the town will know about this within the next five minutes.
Hell, they’re probably livestreaming it straight to The Grapevine.
Clueless fucker.
He steps forward and opens his mouth, but Roscoe, of all people, leans in and pushes his mouth closed.
“Don’t say a fucking word, you idiot, unless you want the whole town to know whatever scheme that lame ass brain of yours concocted.”
Owen stands up, throwing some bills on the bar. “Take this shit show outside before they start getting the wrong idea.”
Without turning to make sure we’re behind him, he heads for the door. Roscoe and I follow suit, leaving the poor bastard standing there, looking absolutely bewildered.
Gertie’s grumble reaches my ears. “Of course they have to take it outside. Hearing ain’t what it used to be, and they know damn well and good I can’t catch the tea from the doorway.
Those damn crickets are louder than Patsy and Hank’s hollerin’ out their bedroom window after too many beers and dancin’. ”
Didn’t need that image in my head.
The sun has set, and the streetlights are on as Owen walks us over to Town Square.
At this time of night, it’s empty, and the fountain softly bubbling in the background helps cover up conversations best left out of the rumor mill.
We stop in front of the founders’ statue—a big ass metal representation of the two asshats that settled here and fucked everything up right from the beginning.
It provides the perfect backdrop for whatever stupid shit is about to come out of dickwad’s mouth.
Roscoe leans up against one of the trees, twinkle lights sparkling overhead.
Owen crosses his arms and stares down Nik’s ex.
I drop onto one of the benches, slouch back, and spread my arms across the back like I don’t give two shits what he has to say.
But also—my legs are sore as hell from practice, and I need to sit to get them to stop shaking.
“What’s this proposition? Spit it out ‘cuz we ain’t got all night.”
Frederick glares at Owen, hatred clear on his face. “I’ll give each of you half a million dollars if you walk away from her.”
I was in the process of swallowing, so I inhale my spit instead. While I’m busy coughing, Roscoe pushes off the tree and takes a menacing step toward the fuck nugget who immediately shifts backward.
“What did you just say?”
Frederick clears his throat. “I said, if you break up with Annika, I will transfer five hundred thousand into each of your bank accounts.”
“You good, Cars?” Owen asks quietly, never once taking his eyes off the man who just blew all of our minds.
“Yup. Yup.” I cough a couple more times. “All good.”
Owen’s head tilts slightly. “You really think we’d leave her for money?”
Frederick scoffs. “You’d all be imbeciles not to. That kind of money would set you all up nicely. You could get whatever girl you want.”
“We want her,” I say hoarsely, standing on weak legs. “There is literally no amount of money you could offer that would get us to leave her. Ever.”
His shoulders straighten as his fists clench at his sides.
“Do you even know who I am? What kind of pull I have?” He smirks at Owen.
“That offer you’re expecting from the Arizona Reapers?
I make one call, and that’s dead in the water.
And you two…” He turns to Roscoe. “That investment deal you’ve been discussing regarding the land purchase and commercial zoning on the outskirts of town?
I just might be interested in that property, and my resources are unlimited. ”
“Are you threatening us?” Owen growls.
“No. I’m making promises.” The fucker slips his hands into the front pockets of his pants, a smug smile crossing his face. “You give me what I want, and I leave you alone and a little richer than when I met you. You don’t? Well, I’ll take something of yours instead.”
Roscoe starts to take a step forward, but Owen holds his arm out, stopping him.
“Annika is ours. In fact, earlier today, we all decided the logical next step is to move in together.”
My eyes dart up to Owen’s, then over to Roscoe, who looks just as stunned.
“She wouldn’t—” Frederick begins, the smile falling from his face.
“Oh, but she did.” Owen closes the distance between them, stepping into the man's bubble and getting all up in his ugly mug.
“And I need you to understand something. She. Is. Ours. You lost any claim you had on her when you fucked up and lost her. Now get the hell out of our town before we call in some favors of our own.”
Now, see, normally, Owen is an easy going kinda guy.
If you’d have asked me which of the three of us would be more likely to beat a motherfucker’s ass for going after what’s ours?
My answer would be unequivocally Roscoe.
But I suppose everyone has a bad day now and then, and Sir Freder-dick chose the wrong time and place.
“You sure you want to go this route? The consequences won’t pan out well for you,” the dick says, but with a lot less certainty than before.
“We’re sure. Maybe it’s time you learn the consequences of trying to bribe the men who are in love with the girl you let get away.”
Before my brain can compute what’s happening, Owen flinches forward, fists slightly raised. Frederick stumbles back, trips over some garden edging, and falls into a bush as he shrieks like a little bitch.
“C’mon, guys. Leave him there to ponder the ramifications of fucking with Cedar Vale boys.”
Owen starts down the sidewalk that leads toward his apartment, and we fall into step beside him. Before we clear the park, we hear the tell-tale sound of the sprinklers turning on, followed by the cursing of a man who just got dick smacked.
“Well…” I start, savoring the sight of Sir Lame Ass struggling to get himself untangled from the bush’s branches. “That was epic.”
“Except dumb shit here told him we were moving in together,” Roscoe mutters, staring straight ahead.
Owen runs a hand through his hair, and while I can’t see it, I’m almost positive he’s blushing.
“Fuck. It just came out, okay? I don’t want her in that apartment alone—not while this asshole is lurking around.
If he’s desperate enough to offer us one-point-five mill, he’s desperate enough to do something crazier like—”
“Like break in and try to take her.” Roscoe’s expression is so severe, Mr. and Mrs. Berryhill cross to the other side of the street to avoid us.
My stomach sinks damn near to my toes. “You don’t think he’d really go to that extreme, do you? Or the other shit he was talking about?”
Owen sighs. “I think he lost his favorite toy and will do anything in order to get her back.”
We all process his words as we approach the Doc on the Rocks’ office and walk through the narrow alley that separates it from Turn the Page. As we head up the stairs, we all pause on the landing and look over at Nik’s door.
“Do we tell her?” I ask softly, noting the light on in the window.
“About the threats?” He shakes his head. “No. Not right now. She’s got enough on her plate.”
“What about the moving in together part?” Roscoe deadpans.
Owen grimaces. “Let’s leave that one for tomorrow. Right now, we’ll go inside, find some food, and come up with some ideas. We’ll need a foolproof game plan before we have that discussion.”
“Let’s just hope no one else heard that, or there isn’t a play we could make that will keep her from reaming our asses.” Roscoe opens the door and stalks inside.
“Fuck,” Owen mutters.
I clap him on the shoulder. “It’s all gonna work out, bro.”
“At least one of us has a little faith.”
“Nah, I’ve got a death wish, but I’ll be using it to ask for her to leave our dicks alone when she comes at us full throttle.”
He laughs, and we both head into the apartment.
Just before I close the door, I spare one more glance toward the short distance that separates us from the clueless woman we’re in love with.
The blinds move a little, and I wonder how much, if any, of that she just heard.
Considering she’s not storming out here, probably not much, thankfully, because Annika Reed and our infatuation with her is a problem for tomorrow.
Today, we’ll work out a way to make it as little of one as possible.