Page 6 of Flint
I lean forward in my chair and notice Tommy tense up as well.
“Tell us what happened, Jules. Maybe we can help,” he says gently.
“There was a car pulled over on the shoulder with the trunk open and a middle-aged man sitting on the back bumper with men in black suits surrounding him. He looked like he was in bad shape, like they had beaten him up. There was blood.”
I’m already getting a bad feeling about this situation.
“How much blood?” I ask.
When Tommy shoots me a dark look, I realize that I should have just let her finish the story.
She glances at me. “He had a swollen eye, a bloody lip, and some kind of wound on his upper arm that they tied a cloth around. He was bleeding through it.”
Tommy curses under his breath before asking, “How close were you when you passed? Did they get a good look at your face?”
“Probably. I was close enough to see their faces.”
Tommy leans forward. “Jules, you were driving past at highway speed in the dark. You probably saw some guys having car trouble and your brain filled in the rest.”
She gets that stubborn pout on her face that I know so well. “It was more than that. One of the men was yelling at him and waving one arm around.”
“So, they were arguing,” I say. “It could have been a bar fight or just some guys roughhousing.”
Jules frowns at me. “It was more than just an honest disagreement between folks,” she insists.
Tommy keeps talking, calmly walking her through the logic of why a tired person driving alone at night might misread a situation. It is a reasonable argument, and he makes good points. “Are you leaving anything out of the story, Jules?”
She comes to her feet and shoots us both an annoyed look. “You know, this is exactly why I don’t like to come to you with my problems.”
I have a million questions to ask, but I don’t because now Jules is angry with us and Tommy has already pretty much told me to shut the fuck up with that look he gave me. There’s no point pushing either of them tonight.
Tommy stands up as well and tries to take charge of the situation. “We can talk about this some more another day. For now, you’re staying here.”
Jules doesn’t argue. Unless I miss my guess, she actually looks relieved.
I grab her suitcase from where Tommy set it by the door. It’s heavier than I expected. But then again, women never do travel light. I follow them upstairs, to the guest room and set the suitcase on the floor beside the bed, check the window lock out of habit, and step back into the hallway.
When I turn to leave, she calls out, “Thanks, Flint. I appreciate it.”
I jerk my chin at her and respond, “Get some sleep. After a drive like that, you’ve earned it.”
Tommy comes back after a few minutes, and we head out back to his backyard and sit down with our beers. We always brainstorm when someone throws a curveball at us. My frienddoesn’t have a single neighbor for miles in every direction. And his sister is probably in the shower or in bed by now. So, I feel reasonably confident that we can talk without anyone overhearing us.
Tommy takes a long draw off his beer and says the last thing I expect. “We gotta keep the club brothers away from her.” He sounds like he’s half-joking, but I know better. He’s extremely protective of his little sister, and I can’t say I blame him. “The last thing I need is one of the brothers sniffing around Jules. She’s too young and innocent to start hooking up with Ragers.”
I don’t care for that term, but I don’t say anything. Instead, I murmur, “I’ll pass it along.”
He looks at me like I’m part of the problem. “I’m being serious.”
“She’s your sister. If you say she’s off limits, then she is. I’ll back you up on this a hundred percent.”
He takes another drink of his beer. Staring out at the fireflies lighting up his yard, he muses out loud, “I can’t get my head around the fact that she’s grown up, you know? She grew up too damn fast if you ask me.”
I try to be supportive. “Your sister’s a woman now. She’s got a degree and will soon have a career. I get that you’re not ready, but you can’t keep her on a short leash forever. You know that, right?”
Ignoring my question, he redirects the conversation. “She isn’t telling me everything. I know Jules. Something else happened,” he says bluntly. “Why do you think she did that?”
I snort a laugh, swallowing the last of my beer. “Because we’re both fucking assholes. We kept interrupting her, trying to convince her there were no fuckin’ monsters in the dark, when we both know there are.”
