Alistair McIntyre - Shallow Creek

At the end of a tough week, doctors ruled conclusively that Grant wouldn’t just miss his senior season, but he’d never play ball again. All eyes had turned to a lowly young teenager huddled in the corner of the room; a teenager who’d tested positive for alcohol in his system after a car crash. That whole thing was bullshit; he’d had one damn beer, but of course, that’s not the piece of information anyone cared to remember. As the story burned across town, his blood alcohol content doubled and tripled and more. The residents of Shallow Creek liked a good story, and they created one.

Brendan hadn’t cried at the announcement of his brother’s fate, but after the first day of school, with hundreds of disappointing kids relentlessly tormenting him, Brendan had broken down in his room, sobbing his heart out.

Surprisingly, his father had shown up. Brendan had braced himself for a beating, assuming that was the reason for his dad’s visit. Instead, Darryl Rhodes had instructed his son to man-up and accept the consequences of his stupidity. He saw no reason to discipline Brendan any further, since he knew how cruel his high school years would be, but by the same token he would not move the family to a different school just for his son’s stupid mistake.

Brendan and his dad enjoyed a strained relationship throughout high school, but it was nothing compared to the vindictiveness endured at the hands of his brother. Grant never really spoke to Brendan again, and definitely never defended him against the various forms of assault brought upon him at school. It all came to a head when Brendan started his own senior year.

The varsity football coach had made it perfectly clear Brendan would never play for him, so Brendan had given up on his passion early in high school. He saw no point in pursuing it if the ultimate goal was unachievable. Plus, the other players hated him, even the ones who’d never even met Grant. They all knew that Brendan had blown everything.

So Brendan had been confused when Grant showed up drunk one night, bitching him out about his senior season. As far as Brendan was concerned, he’d suffered enough for Grant’s ill-fated decision to let his fourteen-year-old brother drive all those years ago, but Grant was juiced up for a fight.

Grant beat Brendan mercilessly, leaving blood splattered on the kitchen floor. Brendan was a late bloomer and nowhere near strong enough to defend himself against the furious onslaught built up over three years. He’d curled up on the floor as his brother waylaid him for what seemed like forever before his dad rushed in and threw Grant across the room.

And Brendan didn’t say another word to his brother, even after he graduated and headed for the Marines.

Chapter 38

After reminiscing about the good ol’ days, water just wasn’t going to cut it. Brendan headed back inside to the fridge and grabbed a beer out of the twelve-pack that had survived a surprisingly long time. He cracked it open and took a seat at the small table next to the kitchen.

Had losing out on some meaningless high school football game pushed his brother into the drug business? It wasn’t like Grant was ever going to be a pro, or even a college star. Even Grant couldn’t be that delusional. Even if the dumbass thought that was his reason for indulging in meth, there was no way that was all there was to it. There had to be more.

And Brendan was the one to work out what that “more” was.

He sat and finished his beer in silence. When he started to wonder what had happened to his parents, his mother appeared through the front door with bags of groceries. Brendan dropped his empty bottle in the trashcan on his way to help her bring the stuffed paper bags in.

“Michelle and Grant bringing the family over again?” he asked as the last of the bags went onto the kitchen island.

“No, hun,” his mom replied. “I talked to Michelle earlier and she said she was taking Grant out on a hot date since he came back into town early.”

“That sounds nice.” Brendan unpacked some boxes from the bags. He had no idea where to put any of this stuff, but he needed a reason to hang around and ask a few more questions. “Did she say where they were going?”

His mom opened the fridge and started filling it up with the cold items.

“She said she’d booked a reservation at De Luca’s.”

“That old, nasty Italian place? People actually need reservations for that dump?”

“Oh, they remodeled about five years ago,” his mom explained. “It’s one of the nicest restaurants in town now.”

“It’s not that far from Trish’s Place, right?” he asked, still idly fumbling with the dry goods on the counter.

His mother wrestled a can of beans from his hand and carefully balanced it on top of two other cans in the pantry. “Not far at all, but then again, nothing’s really that far away in this town.”

And that made things a lot easier when surveillance was involved, especially on a solo op. It looked like Brendan’s next step had landed nicely in his lap, all thanks to dear old Mom. He wasn’t exactly sure what good following his brother around would do, but he could at least watch for third-parties involved.

He yawned long and hard.

“Where did you stay last night?” his mom asked, pausing in front of the open fridge, a jug of milk hovering in her hand.

“Uh, I met up with some of Grant’s old friends,” he said, blurring the truth ever so slightly. “Things got a little out of hand, so I didn’t want to risk driving home.”

“That was a good decision,” he mother said sternly. “But next time you need to call me and let me know where you are. I know you’re all grown these days, but I still worry when you don’t come home.”

“You’re right, Mom. I screwed up. It won’t happen again.”

His mom placed the milk in the fridge and closed the door. She walked up and gave him a brief hug before taking his hands and moving back a step, her round face looking up at his with moist eyes brimming with tears.

“It’s good to have you home.”

“It’s good to be home.”

“Be careful,” she said, releasing his hands.

Abruptly she returned to the task of organizing the groceries. Brendan stood stunned, his mother’s words penetrating far deeper than she’d intended.

Or maybe not.

“Okay, Mom. I will.”

She turned just enough to catch his eye.

“You look terrible, hun. Go take a nap before dinner.”

He yawned on cue and nodded as he left the kitchen.

Chapter 39

“Need anything else, hun?”

Brendan looked up from his phone.

“Sure. I’ll switch to water for this round, though.”

The bartender smiled, grabbed the two empty beer bottles from the table, and moseyed back inside the bar. Brendan zipped up his fleece a little higher and pulled his Texas Rangers’ baseball cap a little lower. A cold front had moved in during the afternoon and the temperature had plummeted with the sunset. Not too many patrons inhabited the fenced-off patio outside Gruff’s Bar & Grill, but enough sat around him that Brendan didn’t stand out.

Across the street, seated at a small table by the window, Grant and Michelle enjoyed a nice dinner for two at the new and improved De Luca’s. Judging by the expressions on their faces, the conversation had taken all the twists and turns that a married couple could jet through in a little over an hour. Laughter, anger, the threat of tears, and then more laughter. Brendan had selected a table next to the short fence, and had chosen a chair that didn’t directly face the restaurant, but did make it easy to peer over and around his phone to keep a close eye on his brother and sister-in-law. The poor lighting on the patio, and the generally high levels of drunkenness assured no one watching him casually would notice where he cast most of his attention.