It had been Wade’s touch, Arlen realized as he stepped onto the porch. Smoke had filled Paul’s eyes when Wade laid a hand on his shoulder; it had vanished as soon as the hand was removed.
But the smoke had been there. He was certain of that, and of what it meant.
21
PAUL HAD A THICK red lump swelling on his forehead, just above his eye. He sat on a bar stool while Rebecca ran a cool rag over his face and inspected the wound. Arlen could see the boy’s breathing stagger when her fingertips slid over his skin. It wasn’t from pain.
“You okay?” he said.
“Yeah,” Paul mumbled. “I wasn’t expecting him to come on that fast. Once I got my bearings, I’d have been all right.”
“Sure,” Arlen said, knowing that Tate probably would have beaten the boy within an inch of his life if he’d been allowed to start swinging that chair leg.
“Thank you for stepping in,” Paul said. “I shouldn’t have needed your help, but—”
“You were going to need somebody’s help. I would have, too, with that old bastard. Only reason I was able to get away with what I did was that he was paying attention to you. That’s a mean son of a bitch, Paul, and a dangerous one. You see him again, you stay the hell away from him.”
A family of vipers, the woman named Gwen had said. Tate surely seemed to be, and tonight he’d traveled alone. If he’d brought those boys of his along, it might have been a very bloody evening.
“Tate’s awful,” Rebecca said. It was the first time she’d spoken. “He’s a terrible human being. Just like Solomon.”
“Why do you let them come around here?” Paul said.
She didn’t answer. Arlen went behind the bar to pour a glass of whiskey. His hands were trembling and he shifted so they wouldn’t see. When he turned back, he noticed that the cigar box was missing from the top of the bar. She’d already moved it.
“Hey, Arlen,” Paul said.
“Yeah?”
“Who was Edwin Main?”
Rebecca looked up at that, too, looked Arlen in the eyes for the first time since that afternoon.
“Nobody, Paul. He was nobody.”
Silence overcame them quickly. Arlen’s mind was lost to the sudden appearance of smoke in Paul’s eyes, and Rebecca was quiet, with Paul trying too hard to lure her back into conversation. She went upstairs early, but not without first giving his arm a squeeze and telling him to take care of his forehead. He stuttered out something about not being able to feel a thing, giving her the tough-guy routine, but she was already moving up the stairs.
The two of them sat there in silence for a while, and then Paul went out to the porch. Arlen could see him through the windows, leaning on the rail and staring out at the dark water. He went to the bar and poured two glasses of whiskey, one tall and one quite short, mixing a touch of water in the short glass to level them out. Then he took the two glasses and went out on the porch.
“Here,” he said, handing the watered-down whiskey to Paul. “After a man gets in a fight, a man deserves a drink.”
Paul stared at the glass for a moment and then a smile slid over his face and he nodded and took it from Arlen’s hand.
“Thanks.”
Arlen drank his whiskey and pretended not to notice when the boy’s eyes began to water after his first sip. They stood there together and listened to the waves breaking.
“What do you think those guys are doing out here?” Paul said eventually.
“I don’t know, and like I told ’em tonight—I don’t care. It’s got nothing to do with us.”
“Well, I do care. Because they’re—”
“Yeah,” Arlen said. “Because they’re bothering her. I get it.”
Paul frowned and fell silent.
“You been gone from Flagg for a while,” Arlen said. “Your mother know where you are? You written her?”
Paul blinked at him. “What?”
“Does she think you’re still in Alabama, son?”
“I, uh, I don’t know. I told her I was going to try to get down to the Keys.”
“Well, shit, if she’s been reading about that hurricane, she’s probably worried. Show some respect; sit down and write a letter.”
“She doesn’t do much writing herself,” Paul said, “and I doubt she’s real concerned about me.”
There was bridling resentment in his voice.
“But is she counting on your CCC checks?” Arlen said. “I bet she is.”
“Sure she is. And the first time I’ll hear from her is when she notices the money’s stopped coming in.”
Arlen took a sip of the whiskey and said, “You’re not making money here, son. You need to find your way back to a camp and do another CCC hitch.”