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After the horrible meeting with Peyton and Baracus, Major felt sick to his stomach. But Russ Roche was jubilant. "We showed that bitch, didn't we? 'Autocrat'. Graves showed her an autocrat, didn't he?"
Forcing a matching jovial mood, Major grinned. "He sure did."
"We should celebrate! This calls for wine, women, and song. Or, you know, shots, brains, and whatever trouble we can find to get into."
"Scratching Post?"
"You know it! Got a shift tonight, but I'll see you there tomorrow."
"It's a plan."
As Roche made his self-satisfied way down the hall, Major frowned after him. He didn't have a shift tonight. Apparently Major hadn't made it into Roche's inner circle just yet. More time spent playing along with this guy was going to turn Major into some kind of monster … but that was the job he'd signed up for, so he might as well go along with it.
At the Scratching Post the next night, Roche dropped thousands of dollars on top-shelf booze and the top seller on the menu—cowboy brains. Major sure hoped that turning into a cowboy didn't make him spill the beans, but he also couldn't afford not to partake, not without making Roche suspicious.
So he ate, and he drank as sparingly as he could manage, and he laughed at all Roche's misogynistic jokes. Knocking back a slug of whiskey with imported hot sauce, he let out a "yeehaw!" that echoed through the bar.
"You like to party, don't you, boy?" Roche asked admiringly.
Major laughed. "Does Dolly Parton sleep on her back?" It was time to ante up, he decided. Letting his tone go more serious, he said, "But Russ—I can't afford all of this. You keep spottin' me; it ain't right."
"Hey, you ever need a few more coins in your pocket, you just tell me."
Recognizing his opening with relief, Major said, "I am so dadgone broke, partner, I'd do anything."
To Major's dismay, before Roche could continue, Don E approached their table. "Hey. Stop requesting songs about tractors and cold beers. You're makin' everybody wish they were more dead."
"I'm just treatin' my partner here to a night on the town," Roche told him. He put his arm around Major's shoulders. "Shoot, I'd've been knocked into a cocked hat if it weren't for this buckaroo's loyalty."
"Skittles. We're a pack of wolves, ain't we? We stick together." He and Roche howled together. Don E looked horrified, and backed away from their table like cowboy brain might be catching.
Later, full to the brim with good whiskey and cold beer, they went to a zombie fight club together.
"You'll love this place," Roche assured him. "The Zombie Thunderdome. Blood everywhere."
"Russ, this has been the best time I've had since the last time I bucked my bronco, if you know what I mean."
Roche grinned. "I aim to please, partner."
The atmosphere was enough to pump a person up—the two fighters making grandiose promises, everyone screaming for their heads, the noise enough to deafen a human. Major had to admit, he was feeling the excitement in the air. Maybe a little too much. He thought he might need a moment to remember who he was. Leaning over to Roche, he said, "Reckon I oughta shake the snake before it starts."
"Don't fall in, partner."
"I'll surely try not to." He hurried off … and ran smack into Liv.
"Lord Major of the Lilywhite." She shook her head at him in disappointment. "My lady Peyton doth tell me that your knights have acted with little honor."
"Liv, I can't talk about this right now."
"Forsooth, what better time could there be than the present moment?"
"Pretty much any time would be better than this one."
"And what, pray tell, causes thee to exeunt with such unseemly haste?"
He frowned. This brain must be a doozy. He pitied Clive for having to parse all these highfalutin sentences. "The need to pee, Liv. So unless you want to be standing in a puddle …" He gestured for her to get out of his way.
"Chivalry hath expired," she said sadly, but she moved, and he headed for the bathroom to try to simultaneously calm himself down and remember why he was here, and psych himself back up after that unsettling encounter. At least this Renaissance festival brain or whatever it was had kept her from making a scene that would have drawn Roche's attention, but man, that had been a close one.
He left the bathroom and they finished the night, but something had gone out of it for Major, despite the excitement of the fight. Roche seemed to have lost some of his energy as well. He was pretty quiet the rest of the night, and when he dropped Major off at his car, he had no response to any of Major's hints about ways to make extra money.
Major hoped it was something he ate—or drank—and prepared to get back to the pretense of being a jerk with no conscience again tomorrow, exhausting though that charade was becoming.
The next day, he was playing a quiet solo game of pool in the empty break room when he saw Roche go by. Roche saw him as well, but his pace didn't slacken. Alarmed, Major called out his name. When Roche came into the room, he gestured to the table. "Want to win some more money off me? I'm feeling unlucky."
"No, I don't think so." Roche's tone was clipped.
"Everything okay?"
Roche hesitated before stepping slowly into the room, frowning. "Last night. What were you telling that cop?"
"Cop? I didn't talk to a cop." Then it sunk in: Russ had seen him talking to Liv. Damn it. Speaking of feeling unlucky—of all the places to run into her!
Roche didn't believe him. "I saw it, bro. The blonde zombie that works with the police? She's a medical examiner, I think."
Major thought fast. Roche wouldn't have described her that way if he knew Major's history with her—it seemed likely that Roche wouldn't have talked to Major at all if he knew his history with Liv. Unless he was significantly smarter than Major had given him credit for, but that was a risk Major was going to have to take. "Look, man, I just saw a pretty girl and was chatting her up."
"Any luck?"
"Nope."
Major tried not to openly hold his breath while Roche stared at him, weighing whether to believe him, and tried equally hard not to give an obvious sigh of relief when Roche decided to believe him and smiled. "Yeah. So, you free to meet up tonight?"
Was he ever. "Sure," he said casually.
"Still eager to make some extra money?"
"You know it."
"Cool." Roche fist-bumped him. "I'll text you the address. We can meet there."
"Yeah."
Roche paused in the doorway. "And, uh, what we're doing? It's not exactly legal."
Major suppressed a whoop of victory—finally!—and made it into a cocky grin instead. "I ain't dumb, son."
With an answering grin, Roche left the room, and Major breathed a sigh of relief. At last he was getting somewhere.