“She knows you’re going to be here?”
“Sure,” Tony said, but his voice went up a bit higher than honesty would dictate. “You get off work early?”
“Little bit.” His boss was six months from retirement and had a lady on the side. Will was about to say something derogatory about Salemi’s work habits, but then Tony Dell stood under the porch light and Will was rendered speechless.
The man had gotten the shit kicked out of him. There was no better description. His nose was sideways. Both eyes were bruised. A long, open gash on his cheek had been sewn shut with thick black stitches.
Tony smiled, despite the pain it must’ve caused. “Cop caught up with me.”
“Vickery?” Will guessed. He’d joked about it with Faith before, but now that he saw Paul Vickery’s handiwork, it wasn’t funny. “What the hell happened?”
“We’re cool, Bud.” Tony held up his hands in defense. “I didn’t tell him a damn thing. I think that ol’ boy just needed to give somebody a beat-down. Coulda been you. Ended up bein’ me.”
Will couldn’t believe the man’s cavalier attitude. “You gonna file a report on him?”
He practically guffawed. “Shit, that’s funny, Bud. Like they work for us or somethin’.” He raised his hand to knock on the door. “Act like you invited me, all right?”
“Like—”
Cayla had a huge grin on her face when she opened the door. And then she saw Tony Dell and looked like she wanted to murder him. “What’re you doin’ here?”
“Bud invited me.” He patted Will on the back. “Didn’t you, Bud?”
Will mumbled, “Yeah.”
Cayla didn’t seem concerned that Tony had been beaten. She sneered at him, saying, “You sneaky little prick.”
“Aw, don’t be like that.” Tony pushed himself into the house. He had to slither under Cayla’s arm to do it.
For the first time since he’d met Tony Dell, Will was glad to have the little freak around. Cayla had obviously prepared for their date. Her makeup was so heavy that it clumped in the corners of her eyes. Her jeans cut her into two separate parts and her white lace blouse clearly showed the dark purple bra underneath. Even from the porch, Will could smell her perfume. He didn’t know enough about these things to guess whether the scent was cheap or not, but going by how much she used, Will hoped she got a volume discount.
Tony made a show of sniffing the air. “Damn, girl, you smell pretty.”
“Shut up, Tony. I told you not to talk to me that way.” She gave Will a tightly coiled smile as she motioned him inside. “He’s my brother.”
“Stepbrother,” Tony corrected. He winked at Will. “Not by blood.”
Cayla groaned as she shut the door. “His daddy married my mama when we were in junior high. Ever since then, he’s been a sticky turd I can’t scrape off my shoe.”
Tony’s laugh said he took this as a compliment.
Will grunted, not out of any Bill Black response but because he was at a complete loss for words.
“You look nice,” Cayla said, though Will had specifically dressed down for the occasion. His jeans were torn at the hem. His blue Oxford shirt had been nice two years ago, but the collar was frayed. The black T-shirt he wore underneath had holes in the armpits.
“You wanna beer?” Cayla asked.
“I’m good.” Will didn’t drink or smoke, which presented a serious handicap as far as his con cred was concerned. “Maybe later.” Tony said, “I could do with a cold one.”
“Then get your scrawny ass back in that truck and go get you one,” Cayla suggested. Tony grumbled a response. They certainly talked to each other like brother and sister.
Will looked around the room as he waited out the argument. The house was clean if not tidy. Cayla liked her figurines. Large dolls in fancy dresses were on almost every available surface. Some were under glass like wheels of cheese. Others were on stands that helped them hold up umbrellas or push baby carriages. Cayla had decorated everything in pastels, mostly pinks and blues. A large flat-screen television took pride of place across from a baby blue sectional sofa.
The fight was over. Or at least Tony seemed to think so. He hurdled the back of the sofa and plopped down in front of the set. “We gonna eat out here? I think the game’s coming on.”
“You can eat out here by your damn self.” Cayla motioned for Will to follow her, telling him, “Just so you know next time, I prefer it’s just me and you.”
Will grunted as he trailed her into the kitchen. The house was choppy, which was strange for a new build. The wall bisecting the kitchen and family room looked taped into place. The saloon doors in the middle weren’t even on the same plane. At least an inch separated the top edges, like blocks in a game of Tetris.
“We can eat in here.” Cayla held open one of the saloon doors.
Will glanced around the kitchen, which was small and crowded but smelled so good he felt his stomach start to weep. Even the stench of a cigarette burning in the ashtray couldn’t hide the delicious aroma of fried chicken, biscuits, and some kind of sweet cobbler.
“You hungry?”
Will nodded. His mouth was too filled with drool to answer. Sara could do a lot of things, but she could not cook to save her life.
“I told you I gotta good scald on some chicken.” Cayla took down a plate from the cabinet. There were pots warming on the stove. She picked up a spoon and started to fill the plate.
Will sat down at the table.
She asked, “You hear that cop’s not doing good?” Will didn’t answer.
“Got an infection or something. Went into septic shock.”
Will tried to keep her talking. “What’s that mean?”
“Means he’s got blood poisoning.” She took her cigarette from the ashtray as she placed the heaping plate of food in front of Will. Fried chicken, green beans, black-eyed peas, mashed potatoes and gravy, and two biscuits perilously balanced on top.
She put the cigarette to her lips and inhaled deeply. “Sepsis happens a lot with surgeries. They got all those tubes going in and out of them. Bacteria gets into the bloodstream. The heart can’t take it. Poison floods through the body, shuts it all down.”
He noticed her grammar had suddenly improved. Cayla Martin seemed to have an accent for every occasion. “Sounds bad.”
She took another long drag before stubbing out the cigarette. “Yeah, it can be. You want that beer now?”
Will nodded. “Is he going to make it?”
“The cop?” She was at the refrigerator. She looked back over her shoulder. Underneath all the makeup, Cayla Martin wasn’t unattractive. She seemed to have that weird quality that made otherwise smart men do stupid things. “He might make it. He’s young. Pretty strong. Why do you care?”
Will shrugged as he picked up his fork. “I don’t.”
The saloon doors opened. Tony eyed them suspiciously. His jealousy was like a lighthouse beacon scanning the room.
Cayla gave him a nasty look. “I thought you were watching the game.”
“I bet you did.” Tony walked into the kitchen with his hands clenched. He told Will, “I heard you were up there today. In the ICU.”