After the Rain

A pregnancy, a marriage to sanctify it. A daughter.

Other people found an equilibrium, hand and glove, yin and yang-complementary energy. Even darker partnerships found a balance-the enabler, the drunk.

They had never agreed.

They had always fought.

They never gave in. Rather than compromise, they had separated.

All his friends agreed. A match more suited to the boxing ring than the marriage bed.

And not real good for the kid.

Auntie Jane and that Hollywood character wanted a domestic? No problemo.

Broker wasn’t used to seeing her show so much skin. Wasn’t used to seeing her wear makeup. Wasn’t used to seeing her with a glass of whiskey in front of her in the early afternoon.

She’d relaxed her martial precision into honky-tonk ripeness. No, more than that-a rawness. Palpably, from the set of her hips and her jaw and her eyes, she hungered after something, and this dumb shit Shuster probably thought it was some combination of booze and himself.

How’d she do that? Was it the funky shirt, the way she held herself? She’d never gone to any trouble to make herself attractive for him. But she was sure laying it on for this pretty-boy asshole.

Nina lowered her eyes and her fingers touched Ace’s forearm; like just a little scared. So she had added vulnerability to her repertoire. Some mix of catch me, fuck me, I can’t help myself.

He looked at Shuster’s chiseled jaw and cheekbones, his touseled blond hair, his thick forearms. At exactly the wrong moment an old line he must have used a dozen times when he was younger jumped into his brain. You ever notice how you have the best sex with the worst people?

As if on cue, Shuster stood up. “My place, my rules,” he said. “Talking is fine. So’s yelling. But no hitting.”

Broker tried, but failed, to ignore Shuster-because all of a sudden there was real anger, jealousy, and possessiveness churning in his chest. The kind of kid’s stuff that could get a forty-eight-year-old man killed in a North Dakota bar.

Gordy did a fast eye exchange with Shuster. Shuster cooly warned him off as Broker took a few more steps. Now Broker had Gordy at his back. He stopped three feet from the table and aimed a casual snarl at Nina. “Brought your stuff, hon. Sorry, but Jane wouldn’t part with the motorized dildos, or the whips and chains.”

Nina just said, “Aw shit. You.”

He stared at her. “So you dumped Jane already.” Then he shifted his attention pointedly to Shuster. “At least she didn’t have cowshit between her toes.”

Shuster stood up a little straighter, loosened his shoulders, and shook out his hands. Not much, just enough. Broker heard Gordy’s boots scrap the floor, coming around the bar.

Nina shrugged, definitely raw. “So much for trusting a fuckin’ dike.”

“Whatever. Look, I came to take Kit home before she’s totally damaged by all this. Just what the fuck do you think you’re doing?”

Nina’s voice clotted, she showed her teeth and her knuckles.

“I’m not doing anything you haven’t done, you asshole.” The challenge in her voice conveyed a pretty convincing picture of a woman who might like to see two men fight on a hot humid afternoon.

“I want to talk to you-outside,” Broker said.

Shuster nodded. “Like I said, talk is fine.”

Broker shot him a look. “Is there a fucking echo in here?”

Shuster cooly stepped back. “So talk,” he said.

Broker took a second look at Shuster, sensed Gordy at his back. He had been sizing up men for thirty years, and Ace Shuster looked like amiable trouble. Not dumb, or mean, just low-key dangerous. And Broker’s quick study detected none of the overpressurized compulsion he associated with the true out-of-control asshole or psycho. This Shuster was trickier than that. He had some irony. Some of Holly’s steel behind silk. He’d be full of surprises.

While Broker was pumping out the ice, Nina was going equal and opposite; fighting off a major meltdown behind her sternum, in the neighborhood of her heart.

Look at you, you sassy son of a bitch. Been a drag all year and now you’re gonna make your one redeeming move. Like some major-league egomaniac pitcher who thinks he can go the distance, high on bottom- of-the-ninth, bases-loaded, full-count cool-twenty-four hours and here you are, standing in the same room with me.

“So talk,” Ace said, stepping back to give them room. He made the briefest of eye contact with Broker, saw the bandaged hand, then looked back to Nina. A fast once-over that gave nothing.

“I suppose I got to talk about taking Kit back home,” Nina said. Resigned. She stood up.

“Damn fool thing bringing her here in the first place.” Broker clipped off the words, spun on his heel, walked the length of the bar.

Nina erupted in a wildcat snit, fast-stepping to catch up.

“Don’t you turn your back on me,” she yelled.

Broker spun just before they got to the door. The words tumbled out fast: “I don’t know why in the hell we ever had a kid, anyway…”

She did this horrible puff-adder pursing with her teeth, lips, and cheeks. Her freckles glowed like grapeshot. She hissed: “I’ve thought about this a lot, you asshole. It was completely out of our hands…” Broker caught a spray of spittle from the force of her words. He smelled last night’s whiskey on her breath, and tobacco. But her voice dropped low, just for him. “It was pure biological imperative. We saw each other and the drum didn’t stop beating till the sperm penetrated the egg.”

“Cunt.”

“Prick.”

As they pushed through the doorway Shuster and Gordy exchanged impressed glances. Gordy raised his hand and blew on his fingers, shook them, like, Wow.

They just had to follow them outside to the porch. An uneasy curiosity devoured their faces as they watched Broker and Nina jockey for good footing on the trap rock.

Shit, man, this could be a fistfight.

Half circling but moving away from the porch, Broker and Nina opened the distance until they were out of easy earshot.

Broker looked at Shuster, then at Nina, and then looked around at the bleak sky. “I been briefed. You guys are grabbing at straws. This is too small a town to pull this off.”

“Agreed. So I could use some help. They explained, right?” Nina spoke flatly.

“Uh-huh. Move onstage and off like a piece of scenery.”

“This is dead serious.”

“I’d say putting Kit out on a limb is pretty serious.”

They had started circling each other as they talked. Setting up a hostile rhythm with their bodies. Broker wanted to grab her and shake her. She sensed this and egged him on with a smirk. He was touched, never having seen this game, feline side of her before.

“You got shot in the hand,” Nina said and jabbed a finger at him accusingly.

“How’d you know?” He glowered and hunched his shoulders.

“Garrison, the ex-FBI guy, told us. He tried tracking you yesterday. Talked to somebody in Washington County.” She paused. “Look, you gotta get Kit out of here.”

“For sure.”

Nina grimaced at him. She was having trouble starting her words.

“Well?” he asked.

She clicked her teeth together. “Something about this scene doesn’t feel right.”

“You bitch!” Broker’s voice rose to a shout, loud enough for Shuster to hear on the porch.

“What can I say? We’re new at this sort of thing. I knew if Kit was here you’d come for her…”

“Nina.” Broker’s voice ended in a sputter.

“Can you get Kit back to stay with your folks? Charter a flight? There’s a landing strip.”