“Catchy, though. You should tell Nancy to change the sign.”

  Pritchard chuckled, taking his little book back. He then fished out a pen and noted that the dish was colorful.

  She stretched to look. “And the service?”

  “Impeccable.”

  She laughed again, her eyes lighting up. He felt good for causing it. That was part of the high he sought as an angel.

  Small talk and laughs continued until the sheriff walked through the door, his experienced gaze taking in the diner, yet he missed Cat sneaking in behind him to find his seat again. Upon seeing Pritchard, he stalked there, looking twice when he noticed Sheila.

  “Hello, Sheriff,” Pritchard said.

  Sheila scooted in a bit, looking like a kid at the principal’s office.

  “Thank you.” Sheriff Hall sat. “I’m sorry to inform you that your car needs more than a new water pump this time.” Pritchard nodded, trying to ignore the smug smile on the man’s face. “I’d love to hear this story.”

  “I borrowed his car,” Sheila said. Sheriff Hall looked at her, surprised, but then worry flashed, and he reached up to turn her head by a gentle grip to her chin. “I sat inside it while Hank bashed it with a bat. These cuts are from the driver side window raining in on me.”

  Sheriff Hall no longer looked smug as he turned his gaze back on Pritchard. “I also heard a tale about gunshots?”

  “Warning shots to make him stop, and I do have a permit for concealed carry.”

  “I heard the word...bodyguard mentioned.”

  Pritchard then knew where it came from.

  “Do you blame me? Look.” Sheila pointed to her face.

  Sheriff Hall shook his head, thinking. “And auto parts salesman is to fly below the radar. I don’t appreciate someone coming into my town and shooting it up, though.”

  “This is gonna sound snooty as hell, but I really don’t mean to,” Pritchard said. “If she was safe from an idiot husband who’s already causing trouble in town, then there’d be no need for me.”

  “I’m tied by law, and unless she reports something, I can’t do anything.”

  “We all know the statistics of women in abusive relationships, whether they report it or not, right?” Pritchard asked. Sheriff Hall gritted his teeth. “I’ve done no worse to him and his car than he’s done to her and my car. And I don’t plan on taking it further than that. I’m not a killer.”

  Sheriff Hall leaned closer. “Keep it that way.” Then he stood and left, almost bumping into Hemish.

  Pritchard gave a thumbs up to have Hemish back off the sheriff.

  Hemish turned to the counter and planted his huge hands on it. “I’ve heard this place has the best pie in town. In the state, actually.”

  Nancy laughed. “Well, take your pick, hun, and let’s see if that’s true.”

  Pritchard looked at Sheila. “You never reported it?”

  “There were never bruises.” She looked ashamed of it, though. “Or...enough, I guess. And I always felt so silly afterward because you couldn’t see it. Not really, so...I was just overreacting.”

  “Is that the word he used?”

  “Yeah.” A sad smile flickered. “Town drama queen.”

  From that to a trailer park princess was a big step for her. Thank God he found her in time.

  “What was the final straw?”

  “Just...the way he talked to me, and he was never home. And I sat around waiting, watching TV, and I stumbled upon a movie where the woman was in an abusive relationship. It was like watching my life.”

  “Were there rumors?”

  “At work, yeah. And here.” She snorted angrily. “That’s the problem with towns this small.”

  Pritchard nodded, not really having the experience, but even Hell’s Kitchen and Glens Falls had rumors. He guessed it was a human thing.

  He’d finished eating, and so had Sheila. “We better get back.” Pritchard glanced down the center aisle to see if he could spot Hemish. He could, and he was almost done stuffing pie into his face. In fact, he was licking the spoon more than necessary. But he had Cat’s attention, so he gave the sign for them to get going.

  Cat rose and left first, then Alex.

  A few minutes later, Pritchard collected their plates, and Sheila took them out back. When she returned, they left, and Pritchard didn’t hide the fact that he’d noticed Dean and Tom in the car.

  They drove back to the motel with Dean and Tom riding their bumper. Pulling into the parking lot, it was full of people that time of day—even kids running around.

  “Is Dean the kind of guy who does reckless shit in broad daylight with people around?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so. Not pulling guns and stuff if that’s what you mean.”

  “Good.”

  Pritchard got out, playing it cool, even when Dean and Tom exited their car, too. Behind them, Cat and Alex waited, and Hemish got out of the car a moment later. Motioning for Sheila to move, Pritchard put an arm around her and began moving toward the entrance to the courtyard.

  “Hey!” Dean shouted.

  Pritchard stopped and turned, guiding Sheila behind him and handing her the key. “What?” Pritchard shoved his hand in his pocket and worked the knuckleduster on.

  “I think I got you pegged.” Dean looked around. “All these innocent people, you’re not gonna pull it.”

  “You’re right, I’m not.”

  “But we’re gonna finish this. You don’t come to my town and steal my best friend’s girl.”

  “She’s not a girl, she’s a grown woman who decided to leave him before I rolled in. I’m just facilitating her wishes being met.”

  “It’s none of your business, stranger.”

  “I made it my business, so I’m seeing it through.”

  “You’re a stubborn fucker, aren’t you?”

  Pritchard nodded. “I’ve been called that.”

  “Well, you better reconsider that.” Dean lifted his thick hoodie, revealing a gun. But he didn’t pull it. He merely lowered the shirt again.

  “You’re right, I should reconsider things.” Pritchard raised his left arm high—their code for backup.

  Hemish roared like a warrior worthy of having stood on that battlefield in Braveheart. Dean turned from surprise, and Pritchard got out of the way, discovering that Sheila had returned. He grabbed her and pulled her to safety by the wall, while Hemish thundered toward Dean. The three-hundred-pound ginger linebacker slammed into Dean and sent the guy flying.

  Dean crashed to the ground and tumbled across it, and Pritchard ran to him to disarm him before he got the wits about him to draw. Looking around, he saw people hurrying away and shielding their kids.

  Hemish walked over as Dean got a hold of himself. “Spring cleaning!”

  Something rasped over asphalt, and Pritchard saw Cat and Alex pull a garbage container on wheels away from the wall, then opened the lid. Hemish grabbed Dean’s hoodie and twisted it at his chest, then grabbed a good fistful of pant leg.

  Gaping, Pritchard watched Hemish lift the man off the ground and carry him to the container, and tossed him in.

  Nonchalantly, Hemish turned to look at Tom. “Are you gonna jump in on your own, or do you need my help?”

  Tom stared for a beat, then turned and sprinted away.

  Hemish grinned sheepishly, brushing his hands as after a job well done. “No littering!”

  Cat flipped the lid on the container back, and he and Alex rolled it back to its place against the wall.

  “You’re awesome, Hemish,” Sheila said.

  The big man winked at her.

  “You need me more now?” Alex asked, looking at his watch.

  “No, go get your donkey,” Cat said.

  Alex stalked off.

  “Where’s Patrick?” Pritchard asked.

  “I sent him to the pool house. If Hank didn’t come here, I’m guessing he’s there.”

  “Are you leaving Dean in the dumpster?” Sheila whispered.

  Pritchard smiled. “I think he’ll climb out in a moment.”

  “He’ll try,” Hemish said. “But the weather’s nice today. I might have a smoke or two right here.”

  “No smoking,” Cat said, pointing to a sign.

  Hemish looked at it, then slapped his medium skillet-sized hand over it. “I don’t see a sign.” He pulled a smoke from his pocket, using only his free hand, and lit up.

  Cat shook his head, grinning. “We have signs to make.”

  “My room. I’ll be right in.” Hemish tossed them the key, so they went ahead.

  “What did the sheriff want?” Cat asked.

  “To tell me he found my car, busted up. And he told me not to kill anyone.”

  Cat laughed.

  “Don’t laugh. If something like that happens, I’ll be the one in trouble.”

  Cat doubled back and jogged to Hemish.

  In the meantime, Pritchard and Sheila went to Hemish’s room and found a big box with all they needed for signs. And more.

  Sheila stood with her arms folded, looking at the stuff, grinning. “I can’t get over how ridiculous this plan is.”

  “Cold feet?”

  “Cold feet?” She snorted. “I can’t wait to drag his ass through town in his underwear!”

  Pritchard smiled at the mental image he got.

  Cat entered the room. “Hemish said something about having written up ideas for signs.” Cat looked around, finally holding up a pad. “Aha!”

  “Where is Hemish?” Sheila asked.

  “He’s securing the thug who upgraded to a gun,” Cat said, looking through the pages. Pritchard didn’t like the sound of that. Cat glanced up. “No, he’s not killing him.”

  Sheila gaped.

  “Don’t worry,” Pritchard said, hurriedly. “It’s Cat’s sense of humor.”

  Sheila looked from one to the other, looking worried.

  Cat tossed the pad on the bed and looked at Sheila. “He’s the good guy, I don’t mind capping someone. In this case, Hemish is taking the guy to our RV and cuffing him up there. No one’s gonna die. He might mess himself, but that’s about as far as we’re going to take neglecting his needs.”

  Sheila looked at Pritchard, apparently seeing his trust in Cat’s words because it made her relax a bit and nod. She then moved the plan forward by grabbing the pad. “Okay. Let’s make signs and banners.”

  The next four hours seemed like arts and crafts, and it lightened the mood, but what really brought it home was when Patrick returned with pizza and Alex dragged a donkey through the courtyard to stash in his room.

  The mood had lightened, especially when Hemish began practicing his chant.

  Day 28

  THAT MORNING, PRITCHARD had again woken up with a warm body cradled against his own, yet this time his bladder hadn’t cheated him out of enjoying it or mulling over his emotions at a new woman in his bed.

  Monica and Zack could never be replaced, and Sheila wasn’t a replacement. She needed to rediscover herself as much as Pritchard did. It wasn’t a love to be built upon that caused them to end up in the sack together it was the need to feel again. Even if it was merely lust. That was what he saw in her eyes, anyway—lust and the need to reclaim her womanhood as much as he needed to reclaim a sense of self outside the roles of husband and dad.

  He loved that it didn’t turn awkward after that.

  The whole day, Pritchard felt strangely comforted by having his friends around, and he loved working with them on getting this show on the road. He hadn’t known Alex or Patrick before meeting them in the Kitchen with Rose, yet the two had skills and their friendship was a comic relief to behold.

  “You smell like a barn!” Patrick said, wrinkling his nose at Alex.

  “Yeah, well, you try sleeping with a donkey in the room. Those things crap more than a puppy with diarrhea.”

  Sheila snickered. “Poor carpet.”

  “I ripped off a newspaper boy yesterday,” Alex said. “I might have to go do that again, though.”

  “And straw,” Patrick said.

  “No, hay, straw is for spreading, hay is for food.”

  “Okay there, Farmer Bill.”

  Alex rolled his eyes theatrically.

  Yeah, having those guys around was fun. Considering they were Cat’s go-to guys for getting stuff done, Pritchard had no problem trusting them. That man was not easy to impress.

  “Hey, squabble heads,” Cat said. “It’s time to get the brothers. Especially since you’re gonna have to ride that donkey through town to get it in place.”

  Patrick snickered and slapped Alex’s shoulder. “See you there.”

  “Bring Hemish,” Cat said.

  The big dude packed up, quickly, checked his gun, and grabbed his jacket. He and Patrick then left for the car, while Alex crossed the courtyard to get his donkey.

  “Let’s get everything into the car,” Pritchard said, gathering bags.

  Everything was planned to go live at eight pm, and Pritchard even felt a bit nervous that people wouldn’t show up as promised. It would be a lonely walk through town, then, but it was bound to turn some heads.

  Sheila seemed excited, though, smiling to herself as she loaded signs and bags into the car.

  “Leave half the backseat for me,” Cat said.

  Sheila got into the car and stacked the bags a bit better, while Pritchard lit two cigarettes.

  Cat held out a hand to take one, so Pritchard lit a third. “Ah, I see. Gentleman and all.”

  “Want a few tips?”

  Cat snorted. “I have no problems getting the ladies.”

  That’s where Cat and Pritchard differed the most. Cat was all about quantity, while Pritchard sought out quality.

  Sheila backed out of the car and released a satisfied sigh.

  “Here,” Pritchard said, handing her a smoke.

  “Thanks.” She took a drag. “I feel good about this.” She looked at Pritchard, smiling. “I feel...like it’s going to work.”

  “Let’s hope so, since we so far have the goodwill of the sheriff,” Pritchard said.

  “Yeah, never saw that coming,” Cat said.

  “He might change his mind if people start calling in about us shouting and parading a half-naked guy down the main street,” Sheila said.

  Cat chuckled. “It’s going to be epic. Especially Hemish’s part.”

  Pritchard chuckled, looking forward to that part. “I’m just glad he’s not wearing a kilt.”

  “It’s not eight o’clock yet.” Cat checked his watch, but Pritchard knew it was around six. “He has time to change.”

  “Is it true you’re not allowed to wear underwear under a kilt?” Sheila asked.

  “Oh, God, don’t go there!” Pritchard rubbed his eyes as a particular scene from Braveheart, where all the men pulled their kilts up to expose asses or dicks, flashed before his mind’s eye. Having Hemish on there was not what he needed.

  Cat laughed loudly. “Trust me, he takes that rule to heart.”

  Sheila snickered.

  “So, how about I go grab us some grub and we eat before the show goes live?” Cat asked.

  “Yeah, let’s do that.” Pritchard slammed the trunk.

  A QUARTER TO EIGHT, they rolled up at the parking lot they’d arranged for everybody to meet at. There were more cars than Pritchard had expected. As requested, most of Sheila’s friends and coworkers with a bone to pick with their boss had called around. Some had masks with them, and Pritchard could kinda understand why. No one wanted to lose their job from this.

  Hemish sat on the trunk of a car, wearing a kilt. Banging and shouting sounded from underneath him. Patrick stood leaning casually against the side of the car.

  Alex stood with the donkey, nuzzling its head.

  People crowded Sheila as soon as she got out of the car, and she immediately began distributing the signs.

  “I’ll go help get Hank onto the donkey,” Pritchard said.

  She nodded, grinning, distracted by the many people talking at once.

  “Mind them when you open the trunk,” Pritchard warned. “Hank’s a swinger.”

  Hemish hopped off and opened the trunk, quickly pulling back to avoid getting hit. Pritchard had the best vantage point to get to the first brother, Jasper, and he stepped in and punched him to disorientate him enough not to struggle too much as he hauled him out of the car.

  Cat stood ready with a pair of zip-tie cuffs. Pritchard got Jasper onto his knees by Cat’s feet for him to tie him up. In the meantime, Hemish hauled Hank out of the trunk and began stripping him from his clothes, impatiently.

  Hank struggled to keep his clothes on, cussing up a storm, so Pritchard went to help by getting Hank’s hands zip-tied, then assisted in tearing the clothes off the guy. They finally managed, Pritchard holding Hank under the arms while Hemish struggled with the kicking legs to get the jeans off him.

  Sheila stood not far from them, a burning loathing shining in her eyes.

  “Now!” Alex said, pulling the donkey closer. “You better treat my friend here nicely. Or she’ll bite you.”

  “You’re fucking insane!” Hank shouted.

  “Gag!” Hemish said.

  Cat rummaged in his bag and pulled out a ball-gag.

  Sheila snickered, while Pritchard kept holding Hank so that Hemish could force the BDSM thing into Hank’s mouth. Pritchard didn’t even want to know where Cat got the paraphernalia.

  “Now, upsy-daisy.” Pritchard guided Hank to the donkey, yet he apparently struggled more than the donkey liked, so it turned its head and bit his arm.

  Hank howled behind the gag.

  “Told ya,” Alex said.

  Hemish took over Hank and lifted him off the ground, and Alex struggled to hold the donkey in the meantime. But it finally worked, and Hank somewhat settled down once he, in nothing but his undies, sat astride the animal’s back.

  Pritchard looked around at the twenty-something people having gathered—all having been handed a sign and a torch. Pritchard recognized Nancy and the cook from the diner.

  Cat tied a rope to the seething Jasper’s cuffed hands, then tied the rope around Hank’s midsection. If he tried to get away, he’d haul his brother off the donkey to get hurt from the fall. And maybe a kick.

 

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