Chase was sticking to beer.
Chase knew his name had already been run through the system by Bodeen, and the man would be wondering about all the gaps and holes. Lila had come up with a pretty complicated and convincing backstory that would hopefully divert any doubts. It was so involved and complex that Chase couldn’t remember any of it.
Bodeen would know about Chase’s mother being murdered. Jonah had been off the map for too long; Chase didn’t think anybody would ever find a connection between the two of them, but you just couldn’t tell. There might be some small scrap of computer info. Or somebody in the bent life might’ve flipped and given up everything he knew about everybody he knew. It was a chance Chase would take for Lila. They could always run if it came down to that.
Her parents had him pinned in the living room. Hester sat to the left of Chase, sipping a tumbler of rye and patting and rubbing his wrist. It was a vaguely sensual display and really threw him off.
Bodeen, squashing him on the right, said, “You plan on staying in these parts?”
“Yes,” Chase said.
“Never knew anyone from the North who could last more than a year down this way.”
“I’ve been in the South for almost four.”
“On the move.”
“That’s right.”
“Why’s that?” Bodeen asked.
“Because I’ve been alone.”
“And now you’re not so you think you wanna settle down. But I’m talking about roots. It’s a different way of life. We still speak like somebody. We have the advantage of not being as homogenized as other places.”
Bodeen’s use of “homogenized” impressed Chase. It was a word his father had used. He could just imagine his old man sitting here, trying hard to fit in and get along, making the effort not to discuss Russian literature. Maybe saying, “Boy, it’s humid!” because when you got down to it, there wasn’t a hell of a lot of middle ground where they could meet.
“I think I’m taking to it just fine so far.”
“Because of Lila.”
“Yes, because of her.”
Hester smiled at him and kept touching his wrist. Chase smiled back. She smiled more. He tried to smile more but just couldn’t do it, it was tiring his face out. Bodeen finished another glass of whiskey and started chewing the ice.
Lila poked her head out of the kitchen and said, “Dinner’s almost ready.”
Bodeen told her, “Me and the boy are gonna have a quick smoke out back,” and Chase thought, Here it comes, here it is.
“You smoke after dinner, Daddy, not before.”
“I smoke whenever the hell I want and that’s just so. We’ll be back in a couple a minutes.”
Chase walked out the back door with the man and accepted the unfiltered Camel offered from a soft pack. He used to smoke on occasion with the crews but hadn’t had a cigarette since that poker game, when he’d split the filters and flushed them down the toilet hoping the others wouldn’t cap him like they’d done Walcroft.
The smoke burned in his mouth. Bodeen leaned in as if to say something but didn’t. Just rocked back on his heels, then bent forward again. He did it three or four times before getting in close and whispering, “I’ll give you twenty-four hours.”
Chase asked, “For what?”
“To get out of town.”
At least it was right there out in the open now. “That so?”
“I don’t want you ’round my little girl.”
“Why’s that?”
“She deserves better.”
“You’re probably right. But for argument’s sake, who would you consider better?”
“Anybody but you.”
“Now you’re just being mean.”
“Maybe yes, maybe no, but it’s a daddy’s right.” Bodeen took a long drag, let it out slow. Turned that gaze on Chase again, really sizzling it in. “I can smell the bad on you. You gonna try and deny that?”
“No.”
“So, by this time tomorrow, you be gone.”
“No.”
“What’s that now?”
“I love her and I’m not leaving.”
Chase thought if Bodeen pulled his gun now this whole situation was going to step up a notch, so he might as well do it himself. His hand flashed out and he snatched the.45 from its holster and tossed it over his shoulder into the mud.
Get the ball rolling, let’s see where this leads us.
Sheriff Bodeen stared at him and let the smile ease out again, inch by inch. “You’re a fast one,” he said.
Same thing his daughter had first said to Chase.
Chase thought if it was going to work with Lila he would have to do something to impress her father. That meant a slug-out or some kind of insanity like duck hunting. He stepped forward in case the sheriff wanted to take a poke at him. So long as it wasn’t in the kidneys, it would be worth it.
“Yeah,” Chase said, and finished a last drag on the cigarette and flicked the butt in the dirt.
A knowing, crooked smile split Sheriff Bodeen’s face. Like a lot of cops, he enjoyed finding a player. Someone in the know he could legally beat the shit out of.
Bodeen nodded, said, “Let me tell you something, son. You don’t ever throw a man’s pistol in the dirt. It’s disrespectful. It’s uncivilized.”
Then with a mulish bellow, he lunged.
Chase thinking, Frickin’ terrific.
The sheriff caught him in the left ribs with a hell of a shot. The air burst from Chase’s lungs and he went over backward and hit the ground hard. Black streamers appeared at the edges of his vision, but as he gasped for breath he still had sense enough to roll aside as fast as he could.
He tucked in tight because Bodeen was coming at him again. Chase got to his knees and took a kick in the gut and a quick one-two punch to the head that sent him spinning in the grass. But at least he’d bought a little time, and now he was breathing again.
Cracking his knuckles, Bodeen postured for a moment. Good, the guy was flawed. He imagined eyes on him. He wanted to show off for the crowd. Chase managed to get to his feet, trying to remember the boxing lessons Jonah had given him years ago.
He got his fists up and deflected a couple of Bodeen’s jabs. The man was strong but not very quick, and Chase had an extra few inches of reach over the short fucker. The man came on with another flurry and tagged both Chase’s eyes, which immediately started to water.
Bodeen started to chuckle, enjoying himself. And why not, Chase hadn’t landed a punch yet. He had a hell of a time focusing, his mind stuffed with clutter and loud with too many voices. Jonah telling him to pick up the gun and shoot the cop. Jonah telling him to get on his toes, dance forward, work the bridge of the nose. His father explaining that violence was a sign of character weakness. His mother crying-why was she crying? She seemed to be crying so much there at the end. Why? He hadn’t thought about that since he was a kid.
Lowering his arms an inch, Chase baited Bodeen into throwing a wild roundhouse. He dodged and gunned four rapid-fire shots into the sheriff ’s belly, hearing the man’s grunts grow louder and more pained each time he connected. It felt good. He danced away, kicking up tufts of grass, then came in again and worked Bodeen’s nose.
Snapping his knuckles hard across the bridge, over and over, wanting to leave his mark. Blood burst from Bodeen’s nostrils and the man let out another little laugh. Everything funny to this guy. The Jonah inside Chase’s head said, Look out.
Chase tried to move back a step, but Bodeen charged again, those squat muscular legs really letting him
