“How convenient for you.” I flashed my brother a meaningful look, and knew he was reading my thoughts because he gave me a guilty one in return.
He was right and he was wrong. Between the two of us, I may have exhibited all the outward signs of good humor, but that’s because one of us had to. We couldn’t both be surly little shits all the time. I supposed being nice was just like anything else done consistently over a long period of time: it became a habit.
Missing our unspoken communication, Hank lifted his chin toward Duane. “Then what did you get in your mother’s womb?”
“All the meanness, selfishness, and recklessness I reckon,” he replied easily, then continued without malice or any trace of resentment, “which is why I agree with Hank about this situation being unprecedented. I’ve never met a person who didn’t like you best—especially at first and especially a woman—and I’ve never seen you hold a grudge before.” Duane shrugged, looking toward the door again.
He was right about the first part, as most women did like me best. Likely because it’s hard to get to know someone who never spoke, but easy to like someone who always smiled.
“Yeah, that’s the other part of this mystery. This woman pissed you off.” Hank craned his neck toward the bar, likely looking for another round of drinks. “I’ve never seen you actually angry with someone before. And you’re still irritated, what, two days later. You didn’t even blink an eye when Mrs. Townsen hit your GTO in the church parking lot with her daughter’s old Oldsmobile.”
“It was an accident.” I waved off this example. Mrs. Townsen shouldn’t have been driving, she’d been unfit since totaling her Cadillac a few years ago, but she didn’t mean any harm.
“That senile old lady wrecking your pride and joy isn’t a blip on your radar, but remarking on your bent nose is a war crime? Good to know. Hey Patty.” Hank handed over our empties to our waitress, who happened to be Genie’s daughter, and accepted the new beers with a flirty grin.
She ignored him.
“Hey Beau.” She gave me a wink. “My momma wanted me to let you know these are on the house.”
“What? Why?” Duane’s consternation at this news was obvious and I fought a chuckle. Only my twin would be put out by someone wanting to buy his drinks.
“’Cause your brother is a saint, that’s why.” She said this without breaking eye contact with me.
“He ain’t no saint,” Hank grumbled, though he accepted the free drink.
“Thanks for all your help, Beau.” Patty tucked her tray under her chin and hugged it close to her chest.
“No problem.” I waved off her thanks. “Anytime.”
“I might take you up on that.” Her voice dropped a half octave and her grin grew more flirtatious as she backed away from the table, giving me a meaningful eyebrow lift just before she turned and walked away.
As soon as she was out of earshot, Hank kicked me under the table. “Patty? Really?”
I drank my beer and quietly enjoyed Hank’s frustration.
Firstly, I’d known he had a thing for Patty for a while, at least a year. Secondly, I knew—according to Darlene—Patty would never give him the time of day as long as he owned that strip club. And lastly, I knew Patty’s intentions toward me were harmless because Darlene and Patty were good friends.
Darlene and I weren’t technically exclusive yet, but still. Patty was a nice person, and she knew I was seeing her friend.
“I can’t get two words out of her, and here you are, turning down what she’s offering for free,” he lamented flatly. “What did you do, anyway? Save her cat?”
“No. That was Jess,” Duane mumbled.
That made me laugh. “Jess was eight, Duane. Eight. All I did was climb a tree and get her cat.” And she’s yours now in any case.
“That’s right!” Hank snapped his fingers then pointed at Duane. “I forgot about that. Didn’t Jess have a thing for Beau before you two hooked up?”
“We didn’t hook up, Hank,” Duane snapped.
Hank lifted a hand, palm out, as though he surrendered. “Fine. Before you two pledged your troth. Is that better?”
Duane grumbled something I didn’t catch, then shrugged. “Yeah. So what? The past is in the past.” My brother glowered at me as he said this.
“Oh good Lord, Duane. What was I supposed to do? Not get the damn cat? You didn’t even like her then. You used to call her Freckles, remember that?”
“I still call her Freckles.”
“No, you don’t. You call her Princess,” I said, not about to lose an opportunity to correct my brother about his recent domestication, mostly because I was envious of it.
Hank pointed at me with his beer. “So, let me get this straight. You saved Jess’s cat when she was eight, and she had a thing for you after that?” Before I could decide how to answer, he turned to Duane. “And you’re okay with that?”
“Hank, let me tell you something.” Duane’s voice took on an instructional air that cracked me up, likely because it sounded like an imitation of our brother Cletus. “If you’re looking to pledge your troth to a woman within sixty miles of Green Valley, you might as well assume she’s had a thing for my brother at some point in her life.” Duane tapped the neck of his beer against Hank’s. “Welcome to the club.”
“I’m the founding member of the club, Duane.” Hank’s tone was dry and sour.
“And what club would this be?” I tapped my bottle against both of theirs just to be obnoxious.
“The Beau gets all the girls club. And, speaking of which, what’d you do that has Patty bringing you free drinks?” Hank gave me a pointed look.
“I didn’t do anything for Patty, not directly. Genie wanted to get rid of two old refrigerators, but couldn’t find anyone to come pick them up. I took them off her hands last week. No big deal.”
What I didn’t say, because it didn’t require saying, was that no matter how nice Patty was—and sweet, and pretty—the moment Hank stated his interest in the woman, she became off limits. Just like Jess had been off limits since Duane and I were teenagers.
It was unspoken, but I’d expect the same from them, if or when I ever told them about Darlene. Or—if things didn’t work out with Darlene—anyone else I might be interested in courting.
If there is anyone else . . . I scowled at the thought, uncertain of, and unsettled by its origins. Of course there will be someone else if things don’t work out with Darlene. Plenty of fish in the sea.
“What’d you do with them? How’d you get rid of the fridges?”
“Oh, I know,” Duane answered, like he was just now putting two and two together. “Those were the refrigerators you gave to Reverend Seymour today, right? The ones you fixed up at the shop this week?”
I nodded, surprised he’d noticed. He’d been busy with Jess, preparing for his big trip and leaving all of us. I hardly saw him at all.