The redhead looked at his grandfather, then back at Eric, and grudgingly put out his hand.
“Danny Hastings,” he said.
When Josiah Bradford left the Porsche he moved quickly, up the steps and across the porch and through the door in a flurry. The door banged off the wall and his eyes found Eric’s and then went to Kellen on the couch. Kellen gave him a little wave and a wriggle of the eyebrows, Groucho Marx if Groucho had been six foot six and black.
“Edgar, these sons of bitches are asking about my family?” Josiah said.
Danny still had his hand out, and Eric shook it, said, “Good to meet you. I’m Eric Shaw.”
Danny pulled his hand back like it had touched hot coals, then stepped away hurriedly and looked to Josiah for guidance. Josiah stood in the doorway with his feet spread wide. Kellen still hadn’t moved from the couch. Now he leaned back against the cushion, stretched, and laced his fingers behind his head, watching them with a lack of interest, as if the scene were unfolding on the TV instead of five feet away.
“You know them?” Edgar asked Josiah. Then to Eric, “Thought you was from Chicago?”
“I am,” Eric said. “Just got in yesterday. Haven’t been here for twenty-four hours yet, but it was long enough to meet Josiah and have him take a swing at me.”
“I believe we encountered that difficult streak you spoke of,” Kellen told Edgar.
“I’d have beat the shit out of you last night and I’ll do the same today,” Josiah said as he stepped into the living room. The dog hurried away into the kitchen and placed himself behind the table and chairs. Evidently Riley was acquainted with Josiah.
Josiah pulled up with his face a few inches from Eric’s. “Who are you, and what business is it of yours to come into my town asking about my family?”
Eric was looking into the other man’s weathered face, burnt by the sun and seasoned by the wind. The skin beneath his right eye was swollen and discolored, streaked with purple and black, a souvenir of Kellen’s left hand. Eric found himself staring at it, something about the color of the bruise reminding him of the storm cloud he’d seen coming with the train. Above the injury Josiah Bradford’s eyes were a dark liquid brown that seemed familiar. Campbell’s eyes? No. Eric had just seen Campbell on the tape that morning, remembered well that his eyes were blue. But he’d seen these eyes, too. They were the eyes of the man on the train, the man who’d played the piano.
“I asked you a question, dickhead,” Josiah said.
“I’ve been hired to do a video history,” Eric said, not wanting to stare at Josiah Bradford’s eyes any longer but unable to stop himself. “My client wanted me to find out about Campbell Bradford. I didn’t know a damn thing about you, your family, or anybody else here until I got down here yesterday. Sure as shit didn’t expect to have you acting like an idiot the first night I got in town, begging for a fight.”
The longer Eric looked into Josiah’s eyes, the worse his headache became. It had swelled into a pain so intense and so demanding that even the conflict of this moment couldn’t distract him from it, and he turned away from him and sucked air in through his mouth, wincing and lifting his hand involuntarily to the back of his head.
“You been fighting again?” Edgar said. “Josiah, I swear you’re a lost cause.”
“They was looking for trouble, Edgar.”
“Bullshit.”
“Ah, he was only joking around with us yesterday,” Kellen said. “Say, Edgar, you ever hear the one about the nigger in the fur coat?”
Josiah lifted his arm and pointed at Kellen. “You watch your ass.”
“You watch yours,” Edgar shouted. “I won’t have this carrying on in my house.”
Josiah dropped his arm, ignoring the old man, and looked back at Eric. “I want to know why you’re down here asking about my family.”
“I already told you,” Eric said, and he had to speak with his head turned sideways. He didn’t like that body language; it suggested he was intimidated, but he also couldn’t stand to look him in the eye, because when he did, the pain flared worse.
“You didn’t tell me shit. Working on a movie, my ass. Where’s the cameras?”
That made a smile creep over Eric’s face.
“You think it’s funny lying to me? I’ll whip your ass right here.”
“Like hell you will,” Edgar said, and over by the door his grandson said, “Ease up, Josiah,” in a voice that was near a whisper.
“Where’s the cameras?” Josiah repeated.
“I had a little equipment malfunction this morning.”
“I don’t believe you.”
Eric shrugged.
“Who’s making the movie?” Josiah said. “And why?”
“I have no interest in answering that question,” Eric said, and this time he got his head lifted and looked Josiah Bradford in the face, taking care to stare at the center of his nose and avoid a direct look into those liquid brown eyes.
“Well, boy, I’m about to give you the interest,” Josiah said, stepping up and bumping his chest against Eric’s. Eric held his ground as Edgar shouted at Josiah to back off and Danny Hastings shifted uneasily at the door. Kellen stretched his legs out and put his feet up on the coffee table and yawned.
“You got no right to be asking about my family,” Josiah said, breath warm and reeking of beer. “You got questions? Then you’ll pay for the answers. I got a financial right to anything you do that so much as mentions my family.”
“No,” Eric said, “you do not. Perhaps you’ve never heard the word
“It’s been there before,” Edgar said from his chair. “Going to have to say something different than that to convince him.”
“Shut up, Edgar,” Josiah said, his eyes still on Eric.
“Hey,” Danny Hastings said. “No call for that.”
Eric said, “Thanks for your time, Edgar. You were a help.”
He walked past Danny, then turned back when he had his hand on the door and watched Kellen get to his feet slowly, letting his full size unfold and fill the room.
“Get out,” Josiah said.
Kellen smiled at him. Then he leaned across the coffee table and offered his hand to Edgar Hastings, passed very close to Josiah without touching him or looking at him, nodded at Danny, and joined Eric at the door. Eric pushed it open and they stepped outside. They were halfway to the car when Josiah followed to yell a parting line.
“You better forget you ever heard the name Campbell Bradford,” he shouted. “All right? You better forget you ever heard his
Neither of them responded. Eric kept his eyes on the mirror as Kellen started the Porsche and backed around the pickup truck, but Josiah stayed on the porch.
“Well, that sure was fun,” Kellen said as he backed out of the drive. “Made the trip down from Bloomington worth it.”
“Sorry.”
“No, no, I’m serious. I’d have driven an extra hour to see that. You get a look at his eye?” He laughed. “Ah, that made my day. You notice he seemed a little less brave today? No punches, no jokes.”
“I noticed.”
“Yeah, well, black eye can do that.”
There was a blue minivan pulled off on the side of the road not far from the house, and Kellen came dangerously close to sideswiping it, flying along at least twenty miles an hour over the limit.
Kellen looked over at Eric, eyes hidden by the sunglasses. “You mind my asking you something?”
“Go ahead.”
“Seeing as how your Campbell doesn’t seem to have existed in this town… have you stopped to consider that
