Chapter 2 #2
“Okay, well, offer’s there anytime. Now, I just saved you from a lecture from Bart, so you owe me,” Red said.
His face looked thinner, and now that he was noticing the man and not dwelling on his own problems, Finch could see Red had lost weight under that thick black sweater and jeans.
“You well, Red?”
“Dandy. Been working out and walking because Dee said she wants to keep me around a bit longer, as the kids are too much for her to handle alone, so I have to get fit and eat better.”
“Always good to feel loved,” Finch said.
“Amen. How you doing?” Red asked.
“As you’d expect.”
“So, shitty, then?”
Finch nodded.
“Well, snap out of it because you owe me for luring Bart away, and Dee will blister my ears for lying.”
“Seems harsh, but okay,” Finch said.
“You’re working bar on girls’ night because, apparently, you’re good-looking, though I can’t see it myself. Be here by 7:00 p.m. on Wednesday the 15th, and if you want to wear a Christmas-themed getup, all good, but if not, we’ll sort you out when you arrive.”
Before he could speak the roar of motorcycles had Finch turning on his heel to watch three bikes roll into town. They then parked in front of The Do Si Do Diner. All three leather-clad riders dismounted and went inside.
“What the fuck are they doing here? I thought we hated Bandits after all that shit went down with Leah Reynolds,” Finch said.
“I don’t like it, but some locals say that since their leader, Grill, was put inside, they’re nice—more community friendly.
I call BS, and they’re still not entering my bar with their leathers on.
That one in the lead is Walker Luke, and he rolled Clover, who stepped up when Grill left.
Deputy Dan and his uncle don’t like him, but they can’t do shit until he messes up. ”
“Sounds like trouble to me,” Finch said.
“Amen,” Red said. “There’s a whole lot of shit that I don’t get in this town at the moment that we’ve never had before.”
“Like what?” Finch didn’t really care but thought he’d better ask. After all, this was where the people he called family lived, so he should make the effort.
“Someone broke into Nina’s house and went through it, making one hell of a mess. They took cash and left,” Red said, looking pissed.
“Did anyone else get hit?”
“Nah, just her, so maybe they were disturbed or something?”
“Then some cars got broken into outside the Rollaway too, and Nina’s was one of them, so she had a double load of crap happen, which considering she’s dealing with enough shit in her life, is not cool.”
“Has to be hard,” Finch said instead of “What other shit?”
“Has to be. Anyway, gotta go. Don’t forget girls’ night, and wear something tight. They like that.”
“Isn’t that objectifying men? I mean, women hate it when we do that to them.”
“Oh please, men deserve it because some of us are shitheads to women constantly,” Red said.
“I really don’t think I can do girls’ night, Red.”
“Sure you can. Now I have to go.”
“Red….” Finch’s words fell away as the man left. There was no way in hell he was working behind a bar on girls’ night—no way, even if he did owe Red for the interference.
Finch thought about walking down the middle of the street then, so no one else approached him, but as there was plenty of traffic, that wouldn’t work. He kept close to the road so he could make a run for it to the other side if someone wanted a conversation.
“Hello, dear.”
Damn, he hadn’t noticed Bart’s sister, June, standing outside the thrift store, washing windows. Didn’t she know it was freezing?
“Hi, June.”
“Can you help me with something, Finch?”
He thought about saying no—everyone knew he wasn’t the same Finch—but before he had a chance to open his mouth, she’d gone inside.
“Fuck.” He followed.
The heat hit him first, and he saw a heater with all bars blazing red. An old Christmas carol about letting it snow was playing. Shelves were filled with household goods and racks of clothes and shoes. Ordered chaos, he thought.
“Can you open this jar for me?” June said, holding out a large glass jar with a metal lid that had nothing inside.
He took it and twisted. The lid came off easily. Finch looked at June with a raised brow.
“Thank you, that’s wonderful. My grip is weaker than it used to be,” she said, taking the jar back, unrepentant for the obvious lure to get him into her store. What he didn’t know was why she had done it.
“Now, this should fit you nicely.” She picked a dark green jacket up off the counter.
“I’ve googled it, and it’s called a Sherpa-lined hooded jacket,” she said, holding it open as if he was going to try it on.
“You’re not wearing anything warm, Finch, and it’s cold enough to freeze the hinges off a barn door out there. ”
He took a step back as she advanced on him.
“Now put your arms in these sleeves and let me look at the fit.”
“I don’t need a jacket, June.”
“Everyone needs a jacket in this weather, Finch, and it upsets me to see you walking about without one. Especially considering you’re going through a rough patch at the moment.”
He almost laughed at that. His life was more of a crisis than a rough patch.
She grabbed his hand and stuffed it into the sleeve, then pulled it up his arm. “Next one,” June urged. “Your fingers are freezing. Honestly, what were you thinking, going about with no clothes on?”
He could fight her, but had been raised to respect his elders, so he slid his arm into the other sleeve. The warmth felt good, and Finch realized he was an idiot for leaving the cottage without extra layers.
Just another thing to add to how he had changed. He was pretty sure he hadn’t been an idiot before the accident, but he could be wrong there.
“Even though it’s not wool, but a blend of polyester and cotton, it’ll still keep you warm, Finch,” June said, moving around the front to zip him up.
Finch could honestly say no one had zipped him into a piece of clothing since kindergarten.
She patted his chest and smiled. “Good, now off you go and get about your day.” June kissed his cheek. “You’re going to be okay, Finch. We’ll make sure of it.”
The words had a sudden surge of emotion choking him. He quickly pulled out his phone, which had his cards in the back.
“No,” June shook her head. “It’s on me, dear. Now off you go.”
“Thank you,” he said, his voice raspy.
She waved him away, and Finch left, because if he stayed, he might just end up crying all over her shoulder.