Eight

'Babe, you seen my car keys?'

'In here, on the table,' Leigh calls from the kitchen, as the phone squawks into life. 'Hello?' Leigh frowns as she balances the receiver between her ear and shoulder, while she tries to carry on spooning oatmeal into Grace's mouth, the spiral cord stretched tight behind her. 'Yeah?... Uh-huh...That's great news...Yeah, Tim's here, I'll pass you over to him, let you talk it through properly.'

I scowl at her, shaking my head. 'I don't have time. I'm gonna be late. Tell whoever it is I'll ring back later.'

But Leigh shakes her head as she holds out the phone to me, her expression the happiest it's been in a while. 'Please, Tim. It's Darrel. Darrel Curtis. Said something about a job coming up, that you could start next week, if you're still interested.'

The roadhouse is busier than usual. So as I attempt to locate Robinson, my view is half-obscured by desperate blokes who think afternoon drinking and cheap hook ups with the girls who Mitch Brannigan has working here are the way forward.

But I can't spot him, or Brannigan, anywhere in the bar. I check my watch. Five already, and we've still got the drive back to Tulsa. The crates to unload outta my trunk, then a check-in with Lewis, my opportunity to tell him I want out. The money might not be anywhere near as good with Curtis, but I sure as hell won't miss trailing around after that asshole, Robinson, or living with that constant feeling that I need to watch my back.

A soft hand squeezing my arm snaps my attention back to the here and now. 'Buy me a drink?'

She's short, about five two, red hair falling in soft curls around the hard, angular lines of her face, her thick make up only accentuating how young she really is, rather than disguising it.

'Sorry, sweetheart, I'm just leaving.'

'Something I said?' She exhales, smoke winding around her, her cherry-red lips twisting into a smile.

'I'm married.'

She laughs. 'Same as ninety percent of the other guys in here then.' She grips my arm a little tighter, stopping me from moving, as she slides her other arm around me and leans into my chest, presses her lips to my collar bone. 'I'm Mimi.'

'Yeah? Nice to meet you, Mimi.' I shift back out of her grasp and signal to the bar tender, pull some cash from my back pocket and set it on the bar. 'Look, I'll buy you a drink, but you got the wrong idea about me, I ain't looking for any company right now.'

'Why's that Shepard?' Brannigan appears out of nowhere, slings an arm across Mimi's skinny shoulders as he kisses her. 'Mimi's very talented, one of our best.'

I grin, try to make light of it. 'I'm sure she is, doesn't change the fact I'm not interested.'

I go to walk round him, keen to locate Robinson and escape this place for good, but Brannigan carries on talking, stopping me in my tracks.

'So, is it that you're not keen on redheads? Because we've got plenty of brunettes, if that's what you go for. Or maybe you'd prefer a blonde, someone to remind you of that pretty little wife of yours. Knocked up again, ain't she? What's that, baby number three? Gotta mean she ain't got much time on her hands for satisfying your needs, running around after little—now what were their names, again?' He shrugs, shakes his head, his face contorted into a smug grin. 'Anthony and Grace, that's right isn't it?'

'Yeah that's right.' Nausea hits me like a wave as I fight to keep calm. Desperate not to show him exactly how on edge I'm feeling over how much he seems to know about my family, I revert to playing the part of the womanising hood I used to be and make a show of leering at Mimi, looking her up and down, before staring at her tits. 'Look, its nothing personal, shes a good looking girl, and any other day... but right now I need to get on the road back to Tulsa before Lewis blows a gasket.'

'Is that right? Cause I was wondering whether maybe the truth is that the ladies don't exactly float your boat at all? Given the company you used to keep.'

'The hell's that supposed to mean?' I ask, even though I'm pretty sure I already know what he's getting at. He's already made it plain he knows about Leigh, so he's obviously done his homework on me. Should've listened to my gut, not let Chris talk me into coming back here one more time, especially now I've finally got an offer of a way out of all this. 'You said it yourself, I've got a wife, kids. I ain't no fag. Reckon youve got me confused with someone else.'

'You think? See, the rumour is that up in MacAlester, Tim Shepard was real tight with that murdering little queer, Bobby Castelli. Apparently the two of you were mighty close, so maybe you were more than buddies. He help you get through those long, lonely nights on the cellblock, Shepard? Payback for all those times you had his back in a fight?' Brannigan kisses Mimi, slapping her ass as he saunters away, one last jibe floating back through the air, his words slicing through me sharper than a blade between the ribs. 'Is that the real reason he was willing to take the rap for you, that day Jeffries bought it?'

And I'm certain this is it, my time is up, and any second now a couple of Brannigan's heavies will appear. That the next anybody hears of me is when my mangled corpse turns up in a ditch when a hand clamps down on my shoulder, Robinson looming over me. 'Alright, Shepard, quit daydreaming and get your ass in gear. None of these broads are gonna be interested in a loser like you, no matter how much you're paying them. Let's get out of here.'

It's late when I do finally get home and the house is lit up, every window illuminated. Every window apart from the middle of the wide bay window, the glass replaced by a sheet of hardboard, like a missing tooth in a pearly white smile.

Leigh's on her knees, sweeping glistening splinters of glass into the dustpan, while my brother closes the lid of his red tin toolbox, snapping the catches into place.

'What's happened?'

'Some asshole put a brick through the window,' my brother says with a shrug, 'most likely kids, messing about I guess. Doing it for a dare or something.'

'What? When?'

'Couple of hours ago.'

'Did you see who it was? Fucking assholes. I'll fucking kill them'

'No, Tim. I didn't see anything. I was busy, getting the kids ready for bed. And lucky I was. Otherwise...' Leigh shudders as she gets to her feet, her eyes drawn back to the rug. 'Tony was playing right there, about five minutes earlier. What if he had still been there?' Her voice cracks as she drags a hand across her eyes.

'But he wasn't, was he?' I gently place a hand on each of her arms and stare at her. 'The kids, and you? You're all okay, right? No one's hurt.'

'Where were you, Tim? You've been gone for over twelve hours. I needed you, but I didn't have the first clue where you were or how to contact you. What if one of them had been injured?'

My first instinct is to snap back at her. But one look at her makes it plain I shouldn't argue with her, that its probably the shock and stress of what's happened that's making her lash out at me. That I need to be strong, reassure her that Curly's right and it is just punk kids and it's nothing to worry about. But this, on top of that shit with Brannigan? I was an idiot for ever believing that phone call from Curtis meant my luck was about to change. Seems like it's always one step forwards and about twenty back for me, these days.

'Look, I'm sorry, alright? You know I'd rather be here, but I'm trying my best, working all the hours I can get.' I go to pull her into a hug, but she places a hand in the middle of my chest, keeps me at arms length.

'Yeah, sure. Working.'

'What the hell is that supposed to mean?'

'Means I'm not an idiot, Tim. So don't you dare keep treating me like one.' Leigh stalks away, disappears into the kids room, the door clicking shut behind her.

'I should probably get going and all. See you around, Tim.' Curly lifts his tool box, his shoulder knocking into mine as he strides past, scowling at me.

I grab his arm, yank him back to face me. 'Christ, not you too. What is it with you and her, always thinking the worst of me?'

'What are we supposed to think?' Curly sneers, shoving me away. 'If you want her to believe you've been working all night, then maybe you shouldn't roll home with some other girl's lipstick on your collar and reeking of cheap perfume.'

'What?' I wheel around and peer at my reflection in the hall mirror, spotting the dark red smudge that most definitely ain't Leigh's preferred shade of lipstick staining my skin and the blue cotton of my shirt, and rub at it, but only succeed in smearing it further. 'Shit. It's not how it looks, Curly. It was just some girl, trying it on down the bar. I haven't done nothing I shouldn't, I swear to God.'

'Yeah? You sure you're not turning into the old man, Tim? 'Cause that sounds a hell of a lot like the bull he used to tell Ma, back when we were kids. Or have you forgotten?'

'I'm not like him,' I insist, through gritted teeth.

'Then you don't have the first clue who did this? You can look me in the eye and tell me it's not some pissed off husband or boyfriend looking to get even with you by getting at Leigh and the kids? That this isn't all on you?'

'Fuck off, Curly. You know I wouldn't do anything to put them in any danger, or do something like that to Leigh. She knows it too. I might be a lot of things, but I'm not a cheat.'

My brother turns the door knob, steps out onto the porch. 'Yeah? Doesn't really matter what I think, it's not me you need to convince, is it?'

A/N: Thanks for reading.