Twenty-Seven
LYNYRD POINTS AT Abby.
“Man, Big Nothing, you don’t waste any time,” he says. “You already hitting that again?”
Quietly Vince says, “We should get out of here, Silas. Like now.”
My eyes are still locked on the Crockett boys, who are making no move to head to the bar, still a few feet from the front door.
“Them first,” I say to Vince.
Abby leans close to my ear. “Silas,” she says. “You’ve already had enough trouble for one day. You don’t need any more from the Crocketts.”
“I’m not the one who’d be starting it.”
Maybe it’s something in my voice, as calm as it is. Or just how long Vince Tarplay has known me, and how well. Maybe something he sees in my eyes.
“I’m here,” he says in not much more than a whisper.
I’m still looking at the Crocketts like they owe me money.
“That was just the JV team of assholes this afternoon,” I say to Vince and Abby, only loud enough for them to hear. “Over there is the varsity.”
Rowdy’s, despite the crowd in the front room, has gotten very quiet. It’s even as if someone has lowered the volume of the music.
“You talking to us, Big Nothing?” Roof Crockett says to me.
“Nah, Roof,” I call out to him. “That would indicate that I’m doing anything about you boys being here except care.”
He and his brother come walking toward us then, both of them weaving slightly, shoving a couple of guys out of the way as they do.
They’re both wearing vests with white long-sleeved shirts underneath and jeans with visible stains on the front.
As always with the Crockett boys, my first thought is gravy stains.
Or blood.
“Hard to believe nobody’s snatched you yet, Abby,” Lynyrd says.
By now they’re standing over the table, Lynyrd in front. He says, “You think it might be on account of there being too much tread on your tires, girl?”
He reaches down and rubs a hand down her cheek. She flinches, maybe afraid that he might not stop there.
But he does, because my hand is around his wrist as I’m already up and out of my chair.
Abby slides her chair closer to Vince.
“Silas,” Vince says.
Lynyrd tries to pull free, but now my hand is covering his and I’m squeezing it with all my might. My arm might not be what it was before the accident, but my grip is as strong as ever. I can see the strain on his face as I squeeze harder now.
“Cut the shit,” he says through clenched teeth.
“Am I hurting you?”
Roof begins to move around his brother now.
I look down at him and say, “Now, don’t you go and do something you’re going to regret.”
“You’re making a mistake,” Lynyrd says, his face starting to redden.
“People keep telling me that today.”
Vince stands now.
I say, “I got this.”
“Let him go,” Roof says, “before this shit gets real.”
“Hey there, boys,” the bartender, Earl, yells. “We don’t need any of this shit.”
“I got this,” I say to him now.
“Like hell you do,” Roof Crockett growls, taking a few steps over to the pool table, grabbing a cue off it, and swinging it in front of him like a sword as he heads back toward our table, everybody nearby giving him all the room he needs.
I wait until he’s close enough and then shove his brother back into him, knocking them both off-balance.
No fights for me in years, I think. Now two the same day.
Forget about the hereafter.
What are the odds of that?
Earl runs from behind the bar through the crowd.
But Roof Crockett wheels when he sees him and uses the butt end of the cue to knock him down.
Then Roof’s the one shoving his brother to the side and swinging the cue at my head.
But I block it with my forearm, feeling the pain shoot all the way up to my shoulder and back before I take it away from him, grab the ends of it with both hands, and get it right up under his chin.
I’m backing him toward the pool table now, then bending him over it, shoving the cue harder against his neck. I hear a shout from behind me then, and out of the corner of my eye I see that Vince Tarplay has Lynyrd in a bear hug from behind. Vince was another one who always played bigger.
“You were never quick enough,” I say to Roof.
“… so… fucked” is the best the former linebacker can manage with what little air he’s getting in him with the cue still pressed against his neck.
“Hell, Roof,” I say. “That was true even before I got back home.”
I hear more shouts from behind me, just before I hear Burt Webb yelling over the shouts and saying, “Let him go, Silas.”
Then: “And please cut the shit.”
I feel him and Vince pulling me off Roof Crockett as the cue goes clattering to the floor.
“What is this, for fuck’s sake?” Burt asks. “Walking Tall?”