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reminded Shawn of the man from whom he d bought his last
car.  I didn t come here to start any trouble. In fact, I came to
make you a little offer.
 I m not interested in anything you have to share, mister.
 It might be in your best interest to hear me out, son. You
can t be doing too well for yourself if you re shacked up in a
seedy motel like this one.
Shawn didn t bother correcting the man, or pointing out
that he was spending the night there because it was the only
damn motel in the two-bit town. All of sudden he wanted to
see where the arrogant son of a bitch was going with his spiel.
When Shawn didn t reply or move the door, a lurid smile
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spread across Mr. Vanhoosier s face, revealing teeth so white
they probably glowed in the dark.  I thought that might catch
your attention.
 How about you cut to the chase and tell me what you
want?
 Fair enough, Vanhoosier said with a nod that shook his
jowls like gelatin.  In exchange for& let s say, one thousand
dollars& I want to know how you know Marcus. I d also like
to know why you were sitting outside his house watching him
play with Wyatt.
What the fuck?  I m not sure what you re talking about,
Shawn hedged.
 Don t give me that bullshit. I have two witnesses who
saw you.
 It s a free country. If I want to park on the street and stare
at strangers, it s my business. Why do you care?
 So, you re going to play it like that, then?
 Yeah, I am. Now if you ll excuse me, I have better things
to do than stand here and play twenty questions. Shawn took
a step back.
 I ll give you two thousand. But that s my final offer.
Shawn did an inner eye roll. His cheapest suit was worth
more than that.  Fuck you, mister. I hate to break it to you, but
some things are worth more than money.
Shawn tried not to laugh at the look of incredulity on
Vanhoosier s face as he closed the door. What a fool. And that
was the man Marc was allowing to bully him into a corner?
Jesus.
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He paced back and forth along the narrow strip of floor
between the door and the foot of the mattress, going over what
had just happened. Although he didn t know whether Marc
was telling the truth about his wife being dead, his lover
former lover did have reason to worry about his father-in-
law. The man was a nosy asshole. A nosy asshole who
apparently had spies driving past Marc s house.
Shawn sat on the side of the bed and reached for the
tequila bottle. Something wasn t adding up. A contrary
thought tingled at the back of his mind, just out of reach. He
took a swallow of the strong liquor and set aside the bottle.
Drinking more probably won t help matters. He began
searching his memory for whatever he was missing.
Vanhoosier had someone watching the house. The
Vanhoosiers wouldn t need someone to keep an eye on it if
Marc s wife was there to do it for herself. Unless could
Marc s wife have been going out of town for the weekend?
Fuck, my head hurts.
With his elbows resting on his knees, Shawn tried to rub
the ache from his temples. It didn t work. His brain still felt
too large for his skull, the pressure growing stronger. He
swung his legs up on the bed and lay down, thinking a little
sleep would do him good. All he could do was hope things
looked clearer in the morning. If nothing else, at least he
would feel better. That had to be a plus.
He closed his eyes and began thinking about the latest
company he was trying to buy out. Beringer & Sons was a
large automotive parts company on the brink of bankruptcy. If
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all went well, Shawn had every intention of swooping in to
save the day and making a tidy profit while he was at it. He
had several competitors of Beringer & Sons already lined up
and waiting to make a deal once he deconstructed the
company and started fishing out the different divisions.
After spending time ruminating on everything from
business strategies to the apparel he should wear for upcoming
meetings, Shawn felt anxiety begin to flow out of his body.
Thinking of business was easier than acknowledging the train
wreck his personal life had become. He continued to clear his
mind until the only things in his head were the sounds of the
motel s water pipes popping and the walls rattling. Now he
was relaxed enough to sleep.
The loud chorus of AC/DC s song, Back In Black, blared
out of Shawn s cell phone and pulled him out of his stupor. He
jerked up, tension flooding back into his neck and shoulders,
although the ring tone informed him about whom he was
going to hear on the other end of the line.  Hey, old man.
 Not too old to whoop your ass, boy, a voice roughened
by a lifetime of Marlboros growled back at him.
Shawn laughed.  It s good to hear from you, Tex. I m
sorry to bother you on a Friday night, but it s kind of
important. I didn t pull you away from any pretty little thing s
attention, did I?
 If I had anything other than my own hand for company
tonight, you wouldn t be talking to me now. So, tell me what s
going on, boy. It s late and I have things to do.
 It s about the man I asked you to check for me.
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 Right. What about him?
 You sent me a marriage license, but he s claiming his
wife is dead, Tex. I hate to ask, but is there any way you might
have missed something?
 I m damn good at my job, boy. The fella you had me look
up is widowed. There was a death certificate in the files I
faxed you.
 No, there wasn t, Tex. I think I would have noticed that
before I confronted him about being a lying, cheating, closeted
bastard.
Tex chuckled.
 It isn t funny, dammit.
 Oh, yes it is. You know I remember when you were this
little skinny kid fresh off the bus. You swaggered into the club
as if you owned it and then hugged the wall like you were
afraid someone was going to bite you. The kid I brought home
with me that night swore all he desired in life was enough
money to write his own ticket and an easy lay whenever he
wanted. Sounds to me like the mighty Shawn Delaney has
finally met his match.
 You re an asshole, Tex. I don t know why I still talk to
you.
 Because you love me. You just won t admit it. Now, on a
more serious note, your little friend really is a widower. I
don t have access to my files at the moment, but I clearly
remember finding a death certificate for his wife& an Olivia
something, I think.
 Yeah, that s right. Fuck, Tex. I may have made an ass out
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of myself with this one. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]