Here Comes Trouble (Trouble, Tennessee 0.50)

“You can camp out here all you like,” Allister said. “It’s a free country out here, but you won’t step one foot inside Trouble’s gates. And so you know, I’ll be watching for you, Denny.”

“Allister,” Draegan warned.

“I want you to do me a favor, Allister.” Denny’s expression changed and he looked rather sincere. He tossed his weapon aside as if the action alone was a show of good faith.

Allister hung on to his for the time being.

“What makes you think I want to look at you, much less grant you a favor?”

“Oh you’ll grant it, all right. You won’t have any other choice. When I tell ya what it is, my words will stick with you from here to eternity.” He shot Allister a wicked grin before he gave Derek, Ryan, and Bradley one as well. “When you boys are sniffing around my wife’s pussy? You remember one thing. I tapped it first. I tapped it often. I got in there several times a day on evenings, holidays, and weekends, too. My cum has been all up in that woman, and when you’re sucking on that stuff, you remember that. She’s had a piece of me.” He snarled. “Guess that means, you boys have had some of me, too.”

“Not yet, you dumb fuck,” Derek said, giving his gun a whirl. “But I see no reason to delay the inevitable.”

“Oh well looka there. Seems you boys have finally come to your senses!” Markie bent over and set his shotgun on the ground.

“Grief,” Draegan muttered. “Here we go.”

Markie struck a prissy, nonthreatening pose. He placed his hands on his hips and cocked his shoulders as much as his head. “Come on, fellas.” He turned to Trouble’s male population and waved them forward. “Let’s play fair here, honeys. Besides…” Markie looked at Denny and smacked his lips. “If we’re gonna fight these bitches, we might as well have some fun.”

* * * *

It was over less than an hour later. Derek had the pleasure of beating Denny into submission. By the time Denny left Trouble, he was willing to consider their way of thinking, which included never speaking about or to Ellie Hunter again.

She was off limits and Derek had driven home their point. After it was all over, they met at Draegan’s for a cold one and a lecture Allister knew he had coming to him.

“Don’t let him get to ya, sugar,” Markie

said as Allister entered Draegan’s two bedroom cottage. Located on the outer field, the cottages were all occupied by the founding fathers. The community was layered in one big square with the back acreage used for farming and perhaps future development.

For now, when they all came together for a meeting, the men gathered there around a bonfire, threw back a few beers, and made plans.

At the moment, Allister was agitated. His plans, prior to Denny’s arrival there, had included spending the evening with Ellie. Now, he’d have to listen to Draegan preach.

“Draegan, before you get all worked up, I want to—”

“Did you see that red convertible parked on the curb while Denny was here?”

“What convertible?” Allister hadn’t seen much more than Denny’s snide face.

Draegan frowned. “It was a…a little reddish, maybe it was more maroon, convertible. A blonde was driving it.”

“I didn’t see it.”

Markie punched him in the ribs. “The appropriate reply here, Allister, would be more along the lines of something like, ‘no but I’ll find out who was drivin’ it and get back to ya.’” He winked. “That one is on the house.” He nodded his head, arched his brows, and made a pass by the keg and accepted a red cup from one of the other fellas.

“You didn’t notice that little blonde and the cute bug she was driving?”

“Cute bug?” Derek asked, walking up on the interrogation.

“Tell me you didn’t call this meeting tonight to find out who drove a ‘cute’ bug.” Ryan looked like he’d deck Draegan at any minute. “We’ve had a long week, Draegan.”

“I saw it,” Nicholas Speed spoke up. He took a sip of his beer and grinned. “Have a pretty good idea why it was here, too.”

Markie turned around. “Oh please now. Don’t make us drag the information out of ya. I don’t have the tow truck’s keys on me and I’m not much for Sean Penn’s gangster-style torture where we tie your body to the automobiles and see what we can find out before we—”

“Markie?” Allister held up his hand. “Just because you showed up tonight at the OK Corral with your shotgun doesn’t mean you’re a badass outlaw now.”

“He’s right,” Derek said, turning up his cup. “You didn’t fire it and you didn’t throw the first punch.”