Junkyard Dog (3 page)

T
he meth dealer isn’t from White Horse. He works out
of the town next door. Even though Common Bend isn’t usually my problem, lately
it's suffered from revolving sheriffs and turf wars. Though the Bend’s issues have settled down recently, I have a punk fuck selling his shit in
my
territory.

Unlike the Common Bend sheriff, I don’t have a
biker gang pushing my buttons. Another motorcycle club calls the shots in
neighboring Hickory Creek Township. My muscle is purely freelance. White Horse
thugs do what I say, not because of an alliance to a crew, but because I pay
well and spill blood easily.

The White Horse sheriff is an extension of my
power. He handles the small crimes, but I’m the one who really keeps the town
safe.

“Found this asshole selling his shit by the White
Horse Mall,” Sheriff Briggs tells me.

Despite having the cops on my payroll, I don’t rely
on them for muscle. The two guys holding the dealer are losers, but they’re my loyal
losers. They’ve lived on the harsh streets of Nashville and know the deadly pressure
the police and competition can cause. Here in White Horse, life is orderly.
Do
what I say and no one suffers.
This dealer will soon learn I tolerate no
disobedience.

“Hey, man,” he says to me immediately.

I reach into the back of my truck and find a crowbar.
The dealer’s fake smile fades.

“Now wait.”

“You’re in White Horse,” I explain while walking to
him and swinging the crowbar.

The metal hits his kneecap, and he drops to the
ground.

“Pick him back up,” I tell Joe and Greg.

They grin at my instructions. These losers love
beating on people. While I don’t particularly enjoy hurting people, I relish
instilling fear in my enemies. This guy will cry to his sheriff boss about what
a scary fuck I am. He’ll also share his horror story at all of the Common Bend
shitholes. The locals will claim I’m crazy or evil. Whatever they say, their
fear translates into staying the fuck out of my territory. If people in White
Horse want their drugs, they can drive ten minutes to Common Bend and buy it
there.

The crowbar makes quick work of the wailing fuck.
He begs first before having a delusional moment where he threatens me with
payback. I nail him in the ass for that bullshit and likely break his tailbone.
Ass injuries are surprisingly bothersome, and I smile at the thought of him
limping around Common Bend. Whenever people ask what happened, he’ll share my
evil deeds. I look forward to my legend growing.

Joe and Greg dump the dealer back in Common Bend
while I drive home. On the way, I pick up fast food for Nightmare and me. I
also call the new sheriff in Common Bend.

Sheriff Carter is a whipped monkey. He takes his
orders from a motorcycle club out of Kentucky. The last sheriff pushed back
against the Reapers and their leader, Cooper Johansson, and he’s a dead man
walking now. The better-behaved Carter plans to remain alive and well.

“You need to keep your people on tighter leashes,”
I bark as soon as Carter answers.

“I don’t…”

“You will. If I find your people peddling their
shit on my streets again, I’ll have a conversation with Johansson. I don’t mind
if he sends his guys down here to look around. How about you, asshole? Are you
okay with your boss checking up on you?”

I don’t wait for Carter to answer. Hanging up, I
order my burgers and fries before heading home.

My house is my sanctuary. Sounds like a pussy thing
to say, but I love my damn house. No one is allowed to visit. Even my dad
doesn’t come over. Not when he’s always covered in cat hair, and Nightmare eats
cats. Well, I’ve never actually seen my dog eat a cat, but I’ve seen him chase
one with his mouth hanging open. I assume if the big bastard caught the furball
he’d have made it a meal.

A maid cleans the place every other day. A gardener
keeps the yard perfect. My house isn’t the nicest in town, but it’s built to
fit me and only me.

The fence isn’t a delicate iron-rod like my
neighbors’, but a thick, concrete mass capable of withstanding a car bomb. The
style of the house is considered mid-century modern apparently. I’ve always
preferred hard edges. As a kid, I enjoyed playing with blocks. That’s how my
house feels - a well-built row of tall blocks with sharp lines.

In my house, I never have to duck. I can enter my
shower without squeezing through the door. I’m able to stretch out in my
bathtub. Everything fits a man of my size. The house is manly as fuck too. I
like dark wood. I like dark colors. I like leather furniture. I hate light and
airy. This house looks like me, and I hear it scares the local kids. This idea
makes me smile.

Nightmare meets me at the garage door. He has the
run of the place while I’m gone. Through his giant-sized doggy door, he can go
outside to do his business. Mostly he hangs out inside and owns the place.

My dog is Leonburger breed and huge like me. He scares
the shit out of everyone even though the dumbass hunts squirrels rather than
burglars. If someone broke into the house, he would watch them take all our
shit. Well, assuming the asshole didn’t sleep through it.

Nightmare looks like his name, but he’s a softie
unlike me. The dog follows me from the kitchen to the massive living room where
I turn on the massive wall-mounted TV. I dump his burger and fries on a plate
on the floor and then dig into my meal.

After searching my DVR, I settle on an episode of the
survivalist show
Alone
. Nightmare finishes his meal and jumps on the
expansive sectional couch. He has his spot, and I have mine, and it’s been this
way for a decade.

“New assistant started today,” I tell the dog.

He looks at me with his brown eyes, and I wonder
what he imagines I said. My guess is something about food. Only a few things
perk him up lately.
Food, squirrels, and food.

“She’s a fucking bossy bitch,” I say with my mouth
full. “I like her. She might work out.”

Nightmare rests his head on his paws and stares at
me. I think he’s hoping I’ll toss him a few fries.

“She’s a helluva looker too,” I say, giving in and
handing the dog a fry. He eats it before staring horrified that I might think
one is enough. I give him a few more, and he’s a happy camper. “She has kids.
Women with kids are too much of a hassle. You remember Brenda.”

I think to my last attempt to have a girlfriend.
She came with a daughter, an ex-husband, custody issues, and too much whining
to make the relationship worth my time. The woman was so self-absorbed I had to
dump her twice before she noticed.

Candy might be worth trying again. When I yelled at
her earlier about not answering the phone, she yelled she was in the bathroom.
Did
I want her crapping on the floor or was it possible for me to get off my ass
and pick up the phone myself?

The chick is ballsy, and I like women with big
brass ones. I figure office life will get very complicated if I decide to
pursue my assistant. I consider waiting to make my move until she settles in,
but I know other men will soon circle her like sharks. Available attractive women
in White Horse are a rarity.

No doubt I’ll need to put my mark on Candy before
it’s too late.

W
hen I pick up the twins, I learn Honey’s douche
husband is working late and won’t be home for dinner. My sister looks like
crap, and her kids are writing on the walls. I want to kick their adorable
little asses, but instead, I suggest she come with me to dinner at McDonald’s.
Her kids can wear themselves out in the play area, and I can learn to be friends
with Honey.
A simple enough plan.

“Andrew doesn’t want me to discipline them,” Honey
says when her older two kids throw fries at each other. “He feels his way his
better.”

“Marriage is a fascinating institution,” I say
rather than what I’m really thinking.

I turn to her six-year-old daughter Allison. “Stop
throwing the fries or I won’t let you go in the jungle gym.”

“No!” she yells at me.

“No what?” I ask.

“I’m gonna play.”

“Not if you don’t stop throwing the fries. I will
hold you on my lap while everyone else plays. You can fight me, but I won’t let
go. I’m
very, very
stubborn. You can scream and kick, but I won’t let
you go. I will make you sit here and watch the others play. Aunt Candy doesn’t
mess around. So are you going to stop throwing your fries?”

Allison looks at her mom for assistance, but Honey
only stares at her food. Exhausted by her life, she wants someone to fix what
she’s broken. I’d feel sorry for her if I wasn’t the middle child and forced to
figure everything out in life myself.

“Well?” I ask again.

Allison doesn’t respond, but she eats her food
without throwing them at Evan. Her brother sitting across the table gets the
message too.

“Thanks,” Honey mumbles to me.

“No problem. I like bossing around small humans.”

Honey stares at me, and I realize how much she
looks like our mom. “I’m tired all the time.”

Nodding, I say nothing. I’m not someone who offers
advice. I don’t believe people really want anything besides sympathy when they
ask for advice.
I know I don’t.

“Before we move into a house, you should bring the
kids to the hotel so they can swim,” I say instead of pretending to know how to
fix her problems.

“That would be nice.”

Her lackluster response steals my interest in
talking to her. I focus on Chipper nibbling at his chicken nuggets. I imitate
him, and he laughs. He’s such a mellow kid. I feel lucky to have done the hard
work with the kids when they were little. Now I have them pretty well trained.

Once all six kids finish eating, I give them
permission to use the play area. I see Allison peeking back at me to see if I’m
watching her. When she finds me eyeballing her hardcore, the kid stiffens.
Yeah,
Aunt Candy is a big old meanie.

“What’s it like working for the scariest man in
town?” Honey asks as soon as we’re alone.

“A little boring. Hayes won’t let me do much. I
figure he’s worried I’ll quit. Once I don’t, I hope he gives me more to do.”

“Is he horrible?”

“No. He yells a lot, but mostly at other people, so
I don’t care.”

“I’ve heard a lot of things about him.”

“Like what?”

“That he kills people for pissing him off. That he
owns half of the businesses in White Horse. That he will see a woman and order
her to sleep with him. If she doesn’t, something bad happens to her family.”

I roll my eyes. “Who told you all that?”

“People talk.”

“People are morons,” I say, realizing I sound like
Hayes. “I don’t doubt he breaks rules and laws and does what he wants, but he’s
not a monster.”

“You should be careful.”

“No.”

“No?”

“Life is about taking chances and expecting most of
them to end up in the dumper. I like my job, and I find Hayes interesting.”

“He is attractive. Rough, if you like that sort of
thing.”

Something about her tone makes me curious. “Do you
like rough?”

“I married Andrew.”

Arching my eyebrow, I say, “Yes, you did, but that’s
not what I asked.”

Honey shrugs, but I know she’s thinking of someone
in particular that ain’t Andrew.

“I admit I’m curious about Hayes,” I say, allowing
her to weasel out of admitting who she likes. “By curious, I mean freakishly
attracted to him. I want to keep my job, so I plan to behave. Not all risks are
worth it.”

A few minutes pass while I watch the kids play and
Honey stares at her uneaten fries.

“I’m not a bad mother,” Honey says, but her words
sound like a question.

“No, you’re not.”

“It’s Andrew’s rules about disciplining them.”

“I understand.”

“But you don’t like him.”

“Have I ever pretended otherwise?”

Honey narrows her eyes. I catch a hint of her
temper hiding beneath her broken-down-woman mojo. “No. You’d still be at the
house if you could pretend.”

“I like the hotel better.”

“If you can see the good in Hayes then you should
know Andrew’s not a monster either.”

Focusing on my sister, I stare into her eyes and
again see our mother looking back at me.

“You want me to lie and say he’s a good husband and
father. Not going to happen. I think he’s a thin-skinned wuss who takes his
fucking issues out on you. You know that’s what I think. So you either expect
me to lie, or you're looking for a way out with him and think I’ll give it to
you. Which is it?”

Honey’s been so beaten down these last years that
she doesn’t even look hurt by my words. She only stares at me and considers
what I said.

“I can’t leave him.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t have the money to take care of four kids.”

“He’ll pay child support.”

“I can’t raise them on my own.”

“How much does he do now? I mean really? You say he
is in charge of their discipline, but they’re wild when he’s home too.”

“They’re not bad kids.”

I’m irritated by her weakness. Honey’s path is as
doomed as our mother’s. “No, they’re wild,” I say. “They need you to be the
grownup, not their maid and cook.”

“It’s not easy to walk away and be alone.”

“I raised the twins by myself. Toby didn’t want
them. His family did help financially, but I never got greedy. They babysat
occasionally, but I was the one in the trenches every day with two kids who
ganged up on me. The twins aren’t saints, and I’m not super mom. They’re sneaky
and plot against me when they want something. It’s my job to be smarter than
them. Outwitting children isn’t difficult, but it takes commitment and energy.
If you’re spending all your time trying not to piss off Andrew, you don’t have
much energy left for the kids. That’s how Andrew likes it.”

“He wants me to do more, not less.”

Sighing, I wonder if she’s really so blind or
simply wants me to tell her what she already knows. “That’s what he says, but
he knows if you were stronger and more confident you’d kick his ass to the
curb. You’re still young enough to start over. He’ll keep you down until you
feel life’s passed you by. That’s what men like Andrew do. He’s not the kind of
guy who beats you down in an obvious way. He does it slowly, every day until
you begin doing it for him. You tell yourself you can’t do better. You say you
can’t be on your own. You believe his lies because you’ve heard them for too
long.”

Honey wraps her arms around her body, and I know I
should come at her with more finesse. She’s been bossed around for a long time,
and I’m bossing her around now. I can’t edit myself. Not when an asshole like
Andrew is involved. I know how losers like him destroy people in my family.
We’re asshole magnets. The only way to survive is to call an asshole an asshole
and face life alone rather than as someone’s bitch.

“You think about it,” I say when she remains quiet.
“If you need help, I’m here. If you need money, I have some saved up. If you
make any cash from babysitting, I’d suggest you hide it from Andrew and keep it
for the day when you’re sick of his shit. A guy like him will empty out your
bank accounts as soon as he knows you might walk. He’ll want you desperate.
That’s what I think anyway. Take it as you will.”

Honey nods and I leave her to think. At the play
area, I find the twins whispering. They see me and smile. If I do nothing else
for them in life, I’ll raise them prepared to face life alone rather than
settling for losers. With them having each other, maybe they’ll be better
suited for that choice than Honey and her kids.