Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

Chapter 15

“Did the police come to talk to you before you were released?”

Brendan nodded to Michelle absently as he scanned the familiar menu. Schmidt’s hadn’t changed a bit in his absence. That wasn’t necessarily a good thing. His memory was a bit fuzzy on the quality of the food in the old diner. He wasn’t sure if that was from his hiatus, or just from getting his skull pummeled two nights ago. At the thought of his run-in with Fisher’s goons, his hand moved to his head and probed around the various bumps and bruises.

“Are you going to press charges?” she asked, ignoring her own menu. She probably had the thing memorized by now.

“I gave them my statement,” he responded, looking into her blue eyes for a moment. “We’ll see what happens next.” Hopefully what happened next would be Brendan’s fist cracking Fisher’s skull open.

“You talk to Marcus yet?”

“I called him to say thanks for the free ride to the hospital, but he’s too pissed to talk to me.”

“He tell you to stop snooping around?”

Brendan sighed. “Yeah, said he wouldn’t help me anymore, and that I should quit while I’m ahead.”

“In fairness, he did take a shot for you.”

“Ha. He said they shot him in the back with a beanbag gun,” Brendan said with a rueful smile. “A cop getting taken out by a police weapon. Sucks for him. He says his head hurts pretty bad from smacking it on the ground.”

Conversation continued in that vein. Michelle would ask questions Brendan didn’t care to answer, and Brendan would provide unsatisfactory answers. Brendan’s burger and Michelle’s salad appeared, and the two ate mostly in silence. They gave each other the awkward smiles that friends often give one another when they realize they don’t know a damn thing about each other anymore.

Despite Brendan’s protests, Michelle settled the bill. He walked her to the door, where they stepped out into the cool night. Cool was a relative concept at this time of year. Cool just meant bacon wouldn’t cook on the hood of a truck left in the sun. When Brendan moved towards Michelle’s truck, she put a hand on his arm.

“Why don’t we get a drink at Trish’s?” she asked. “You can make up for letting a girl buy you dinner.”

Brendan started to protest, but Michelle slapped his arm and burst out laughing.

“I’m just kidding, Tenny. You don’t owe me anything, but you should still buy me a drink.”

“What about the kids?” he asked, wondering about Michelle’s children, who he guessed were actually his niece and nephew. It was funny that he’d never thought of that until now.

“I got a sitter, and she’ll stay up all night texting her boyfriend, if she hasn’t already invited him over for a romp on my couch,” Michelle replied. “Ugh, teenagers are gross,” she added with a wink.

Brendan laughed and the two walked across the street from Schmidt’s to where Trish’s neon lights beckoned all-comers. Inside, the same bartender from a couple of days ago welcomed them warmly and asked what they wanted before they even reached the bar. Apparently Brendan’s mauled face didn’t faze the young woman, because her smile didn’t skip a beat as he ordered a bottle of Shiner, while Michelle opted for a frozen margarita. While they waited, Brendan and Michelle alternated between looking at each other and glancing around the bar aimlessly. Blind dates probably went smoother than this. The bartender returned and Brendan paid cash. Armed with alcohol, the pair found a booth in the corner.

“So you read any good books recently?” Michelle asked. Both of them cracked up a bit, and the laughter vented some of the odd anxiety between them.

“Yeah, John Scalzi’s got some great sci-fi stuff I’ve been into recently. What about you?”

Michelle grinned. “Between Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey , I’m set for life.”

“I have no idea what those are, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”

Michelle set her drink down, a look of disbelief on her face.

“Are you serious? Where have you been the last six years?”

“The Marines.” He took another drink from his beer.

“Not much time to read girlie stories in the Marines?” she asked, emphasizing girlie .

Brendan chuckled. “Not really, no. I’d never hear the end of that from the guys.”

The televisions around the bar switched channels suddenly, and a silent broadcast of recent high school football highlights played. Brendan’s mood dipped down at the sight. The bartender appeared, asking if they wanted another round. She glided away when Brendan nodded darkly.

“You follow the Coyotes at all while you were gone?” Michelle asked him, so engrossed in the highlight reel that she hadn’t noticed his change in demeanor.

“No.” He tried to keep a lid on the can of worms rattling around.

The bartender appeared with their drinks. Michelle didn’t seem to notice as her empty glass was traded out for a full one.

“Me and Grant go to almost every game still,” she continued, totally sucked into the TV.

“Good for you.”

Michelle quietly drained most of her second margarita while the broadcast continued. The conversation was apparently on hold for now, so Brendan’s eyes naturally roamed where they pleased. Damn, she was attractive. Her flannel blouse hung open just enough to show she was only wearing a bra and no tank-top underneath. Even her slender forearms and graceful neck drew Brendan’s attention. Had he noticed all of this a decade ago? Shit, if not, he’d been freaking blind.

The show went to commercials, and Michelle turned back to Brendan. He wondered if she’d remember why he wouldn’t give a crap about the local high school football team. A few beats later he saw the light go on behind her eyes. She stared down at her now empty glass, blushing a bit. Brendan took the opportunity to wave to the bartender for two more drinks.

“Grant likes watching the games?” Brendan asked.

Michelle looked up and nodded. “Yeah, he does, but sometimes he finds it a little hard to watch,” she said. “Especially if he thinks he was better than the QB out there.”

“He still get really pissed off about that?” Brendan asked as the bartender showed up with their order.

“You know how it is,” she said noncommittally. Her eyes drifted back to the television on the wall.

He watched her staring at the TV screen, which still silently cycled through commercials for new trucks and barbeque pits. The marketers definitely knew the audience in Shallow Creek, but what worried him was the faraway look on his friend’s pretty face.

“Grant ever hit you, Michelle?” he asked casually, before taking another sip of his beer.

Her drink froze at her mouth. She slowly turned to him and put the slushy margarita down. Maybe it was just the result of the two drinks she’d thrown back in no time, but her cheek’s reddened again.

“No, he wouldn’t ever hit me,” she whispered, eying the bar’s other occupants. “And you shouldn’t say things like that so loud.”

“He had a mean streak in school.”

“He changed after you left.” She leaned against the backrest of the booth’s bench seat. The alcohol flowed in her tone now. Brendan had only put away two and a half beers, so his decision making wasn’t affected, but he knew he was about to embark on an unwise conversation.

“I was surprised when you married him.”

“Why’s that?” she asked, not looking happy.

“Bit creepy, that’s all.” He took another swig while she glared at him. “He was already out of school when you were a freshman.”

“So what? It’s not like we dated in high school. Four years difference isn’t weird for consenting adults.”