Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

“You mind me asking what happened between you and Michelle?” he asked.

“What happened to a simple, ‘Hey Kim, how’s life been since high school?’” she replied coyly.

Brendan didn’t smile. “I’m serious.”

Kim stared into her coffee and stirred it a few times with a small stick.

“Why?” she replied. That was a good question.

“I’ve had a few rough experiences since I got back,” he said. “I’m just trying to make sense of things.”

She stayed quiet for a moment, now staring down the empty highway. “Um, it’s kind of personal.”

“Sure, you don’t have to tell me.” He hoped that she would.

To his disappointment, she hopped off the tailgate. Instead of walking away, she turned to him.

“Maybe one day I’ll tell you,” she said, captivating his gaze with her deep green eyes. “Thanks for the coffee, but it sounds like you’ve got a lot going on up here.” She tapped him gently on the forehead. “Why don’t you get that stuff squared away, then give me a call.” When Brendan didn’t immediately react, she added, “I mean it. I’d like to catch up.”

“Okay,” he said, still irked that she hadn’t told him what he wanted to know.

“It’s a little embarrassing, but I live in the apartment above my mom’s garage,” she said as she started to walk around the side of the truck. “Just swing by sometime when you’re ready.”

Brendan watched her walk towards a beat-up Chevy coupe, noticing the easy sway in her hips. His brain tried its best to keep him on the investigative track, but he couldn’t peel his eyes away. Her movements hypnotized him, but his brain eventually won out.

She stopped halfway across the empty parking lot when he called out, “Did Michelle ever do meth?”

Without turning her body, she slowly peered back over her shoulder in his general direction.

“Don’t be a stranger, Brendan.”

With that, she strode more purposefully to her car, and a minute later Brendan was sitting all alone on the back of his mother’s pickup.

Chapter 18

As per regulations established long before Brendan’s birth, Saturday night in the Rhodes household revolved around one thing, and one thing only: Texas football. True to form, Brendan and both his parents sat engrossed by the burnt orange Longhorns as they continued to trounce state rivals Texas Tech in the second quarter of this game. Brendan sat back in his chair as the game clock closed in on halftime. His dad had ignored him all day long since he’d returned from his gas station rendezvous with Kim Prost earlier. Yet now here they sat, father and son, watching the Texas game and bullshitting freely about blown calls and poor tackling as if nothing was wrong.

Each of them downing a few beers along the way probably helped ease the tension, but Brendan wasn’t looking a gift horse in the mouth. He finally felt at home for the first time since showing up at his parents’ house. It was relaxing. He hadn’t even realized just how on-edge he’d been with them in the last few days, not until finally letting some of the stress go.

Halftime arrived and Brendan wondered if this newfound camaraderie with his father would continue past the fourth quarter.

“Another beer, son?” his dad asked, standing up from his trusty recliner.

“Yeah, sure,” he replied. “Thanks.”

When Brendan’s dad disappeared around the corner into the kitchen, his mother struck up conversation with him. She liked football fine, but Brendan could tell she’d been eager to talk the entire way through the first half.

“So you saw Kim today?” she asked.

“Yup, at the gas station,” he replied. “Like I told you earlier.”

His mother’s eyes glazed over a bit as she stared off into the corner of the room.

“Oh, those Prost girls were so sweet to you in high school,” she said whimsically. “I don’t mind telling you that I always thought you’d end up marrying Michelle.”

“Yeah.” Brendan hadn’t shared those same thoughts until recently.

His mom turned to him, more serious now. “Such a shame about that lowlife father of theirs. Running off in the middle of the night without a word.” She shook her head, privately condemning the man who’d abandoned his wife with two daughters still in high school. Brendan only vaguely remembered the circumstances, and he’d never really gotten a full explanation out of Michelle back then.

His dad returned with a Coors Light for himself and one of the Shiners Brendan had picked up at the gas station earlier. Damn things had cost an arm and a leg, but he’d been too lazy to go to the grocery store just for cheaper beer. He thanked his dad as the elder Rhodes reclaimed his throne in front of the TV.

The sportscaster started the roundup of the day’s Big 12 action, which featured insane offensive displays from WVU, Baylor, and TCU. Brendan’s dad appeared indifferent to the highlight reels until the show’s host added a side note about Texas A&M getting crushed by LSU earlier in the afternoon. This got a hearty laugh out of the old man, who turned and remarked, “Serves those Aggies right for jumping ship.”

Brendan nodded in agreement as he took another drink out of his beer. His phone vibrated in his pocket. Not many people had that number. He faltered for a moment, wondering if Scott Fisher was contacting him for some reason. Slowly he pulled the phone out of his pocket. A sigh of relief deflated the paranoia; it was just Michelle. He still thought she’d acted like a bitch the night before, but the fact that she was even calling him was a good sign, right?

“I’ve got to take this.” He wandered back towards the kitchen. He overcame his slight annoyance with her for last night’s behavior and answered the phone on the fifth ring.

“Hi, Tenny.” Brendan could hear small tears in her voice. “I know last night didn’t end well, but can you come over? I can’t get over everything that happened. I’m scared to be in the house alone and—”

“Don’t worry about it.” His heart melted as she rambled on through tears. “I’ll be right over.”

His dad glared at him for a moment at the news he was leaving to check on Michelle. His parents didn’t know the whole story, but he’d given enough details that his absence shouldn’t have been a problem. Of course, just when Brendan had worked his way back into his dad’s good books, here he was ruining Saturday night football. Back to square one.

On the ride over to Michelle’s place, he forced himself to separate out all the nasty feelings he’d contended with last night while he walked back this way from her house. Between kicking those guys’ asses, and then having Michelle yell at him, he’d been pretty wired. The walk had flown by, and before he knew it, his parents’ house had appeared in front of him. By comparison, the drive over took way longer as he thought about Michelle crying in fear.

She opened the door before he’d even finished knocking. He stepped inside and closed the door moments before she hugged him as if her life depended on it. After letting her crush his ribs for a while, Brendan felt a bit uncomfortable and gingerly peeled her off. Her makeup was running all down her cheeks, so he grabbed a tissue out of the box sitting on a short cabinet next to the front door. She took it from him and dabbed under her eyes with little effect.

“How about a beer?” she asked, heading towards the open kitchen.

“Sure.” He followed slowly, taking in the expansive mobile home. “Just one, though. I’ve got to drive home.”

Really he just wanted to keep his wits about him in case trouble did show up, and homicidal meth dealers weren’t his only concern. Things could easily get out of hand when two attractive adults got drunk together.