C. Box - The Highway

He signaled for another round.

“Please, not another one,” Cassie said. “We’ve got to get you out of here before-”

“Before what?” Cody asked. “I’ve got nowhere to go, thanks to you.”

The bartender arrived with his head down. He looked whipped.

“I see what’s been happening, partner,” Cody said to him. “You’ve been losing a lot of business tonight.”

The bartender nodded.

Cody shifted in his stool and reached back and opened his wallet again. This time, he handed the bartender a Visa card.

“Buy everyone left in the place a couple of rounds,” Cody said to him. “And one for yourself because you look like you need it. And another wine for the pretty lady here.”

“I’m fine,” Cassie said quickly.

“I’ll be the judge of that,” Cody said. To the bartender: “Keep it flowing until I tell you to stop. For everybody in the place. They’ll call their friends back and we’ll all have a good old time.”

The bartender left with the card, and announced to his remaining customers that the party had started. The bikers lifted their beer bottles in Cody’s direction. Cody took it all in, acknowledging the accolades.

To Cassie, he said, “This is how drunks make friends.”

She shook her head, “I’ve never seen you like this.”

“This is the real me,” he said. “I used to be a fun guy before I turned into a sober curmudgeon.”

And your son and your wife came back, she thought but didn’t say.

As the bartender delivered drinks to everyone, Cassie said, “I was asking you how you knew all this about the sheriff.”

“You were?”

“Yes.”

He held her eyes with his, and he smirked. “Have you ever met Dixie Tubman?” he asked.

“The sheriff’s wife?”

He tilted his head and grinned. It was an unfamiliar man-to-man gesture that unnerved her.

“Before Jenny came back I catted around a little,” he said, still smirking. “Dixie gets kind of lonely in that big house all by herself when Tubman is away giving speeches or politicking.”

“ You slept with the sheriff’s wife? ” she said, raising her voice. Someone had fed the jukebox and the guitar intro to Lynyrd Skynyrd’s “Gimme Three Steps” was playing.

“I fulfilled a need.” Cody winked. “Didn’t do much actual sleeping. Damn, I always liked that song.”

She rubbed her eyes. “I’m trying to wrap my head around this,” she said. “So how did you find out about the mines and the contingency agreements?”

“Pillow talk.” He laughed. “When she wasn’t biting the pillow, I mean.”

“Don’t be an asshole.”

“I used to be an asshole when I drank,” he said frankly. “Everybody told me that. So many people told me I began to believe it might be true.”

“Does Tubman know?”

“Know what? That I was an asshole?”

“That you slept with his wife!”

“Keep it down, girlie,” he said, “All I know is I didn’t tell him.” He reached out and put his hand on hers. She pulled her hand away.

He was obviously drunk, she thought. The evening had taken a turn she had dreaded but anticipated. Men like Cody-in fact, most men she’d been around-would eventually make a play. It wasn’t that they pined for her, or wanted her, or even thought much about her during their day. It wasn’t even personal, which kind of hurt. It’s just what they did, what they were hardwired to want to do. She’d once mistakenly believed a situation like this might turn out to mean more. Hence, her son.

“So no more about the pillows, is what you’re saying.” He chuckled.

She turned and slid off her stool. The wine fogged her brain and she reached out to steady herself.

“I’m not going to stay,” she said to him. “I’ll drive you home.”

“Home?”

“You’re right,” she said. “I don’t think you want Jenny to see you like this. So I’ll drive you to a motel for the night.”

“What about your place?” he leered.

“My mother and son wouldn’t like it,” she said. “And I wouldn’t, either.”

Then he looked up over her shoulder and his face changed. The leer was gone. Suddenly, he looked stricken.

She turned and recognized Justin from the football photo Cody had showed her.

9:33 P.M., Tuesday, November 20

Justin drove Cody home in his car. Cassie Dewell followed them in Cody’s pickup after Justin agreed to return her to her Honda later. His son drove with barely controlled fury, but laid out the circumstances of the night; how Danielle and Gracie Sullivan had suddenly stopped communicating with him.

Cody sat in embarrassed silence although his heart was racing and the comforting buzz of alcohol coursed through his blood stream. Home was a beige two-story ranch with a double garage, on a block lined with beige two-story homes in a new development on the north side of Helena. So new, that he could still see the seams of grass sod on the front lawns and all the cue-stick-sized tree trunks were secured with wires to T-posts so the wind wouldn’t blow them away. Justin swung into his driveway and nearly kissed bumpers with Jenny’s car, missing it by inches.

Cody said, “I can’t ask you to lie to your mom. But you could just not say anything.”

Justin refused to look over at him. He said, “Just help me find those two girls. Then you can go out and destroy yourself again.”

It was like a knife to the heart, and Cody moaned. He rubbed his face with both hands and tried to will himself sober. He hated the role reversal; his son as the parent, himself as the miscreant. He was embarrassed for Justin and angry with himself.

Justin got out and Cody followed. Cody’s boot caught a crack in the driveway concrete and he tripped and righted himself by grabbing the hood of the car. Justin simply looked at him, shook his head, and went inside the house.

Cody stood there for a moment breathing in cold air, feeling the frigid sheet metal of the roof numb his bare hands. He watched Cassie park his truck in front of the house and was still there when she walked up.

“You look like you’re waiting for someone to pat you down,” she said.

“Feel free,” he said sullenly.

She shook her head. “Just remind Justin I need a ride back for my car.”

“Come inside out of the cold,” he said, standing up. He was grateful he didn’t swoon. “No reason for you to stand around out here.”

She started to object but he said, “Please.”

She sighed and nodded.

“Jenny might start swinging,” he said. “You might have to protect me.”

“I’ll probably help her,” Cassie said, deadpan.

He paused inside the front door and kicked off his muddy boots. One thing he liked about the place was that it still smelled new-new paint, raw lumber, fresh carpet. It was the first new house he’d ever owned and he wondered how long it would take him to damage it. Every hovel he’d ever lived in he’d left with fist-sized holes in the walls, carpets stained from whiskey spills, and bullet holes in the molding. But that was before he stopped drinking and raging and before Jenny decided to give him one more chance.

She was standing at the top of the landing with her arms crossed, looking down at them. Justin stood behind her. Jenny had long dark curly hair, blue eyes, a pug nose, and was fit and trim due to her daily runs. She wore a loose-fitting sweatshirt and tight jeans.

As he evaded her eyes she said, “Are you going to introduce me?”

“Oh,” he said, “This is Cassie Dewell. She’s my … used to be … my partner.”

“What happened?”

Cody paused, hoping Cassie would say the right thing. But she remained quiet other than to say, “Nice to meet you” to Jenny.