Once Upon A Killing (A Gass County Novel Book 2) (2 page)

The three large hands picking at the plate of nachos stopped as soon as the sentence ended, and Jefferson smiled into his beer and took another sip, pleased with his victorious week and waited for a response.

“I knew it. I fucking knew it.” Wayne was the first one to talk, or even make a move away from the nachos. “When you guys couldn’t make it to the bar crawl just a few weeks ago, and the fact that you’ve opened your front door with a post-coital hairdo every. single. time I’ve come over, I knew it would happen. Well, congratulations on becoming a father of two in less than a year. To Jeff and Rayray.”

Brody punched Jeff’s shoulder, making him swing against the side of the booth from the impact. Brody rarely had to say anything, a simple move like that showed enough of his emotions. Even Bryce perked up for a slight second and clinked his glass with the other three before going back into the state of moodiness, downing the last of his second glass of beer. He filled up his third.

“I’m so happy you told us this before Bryce dunks under the table and forgets we’re even here,” Brody sternly held Bryce’s gaze.

“Oh, shove it, Brody. Remember you’re off-duty tonight and we all agree you need to get shit-faced.”

Brody looked around the table, having the other two nod in agreement.

“I know two of the girls at the back of that bar that would gladly take you home and loosen you up,” Wayne tried to help, unsuccessfully.

“If you already know them, I will most definitely stay away from them. You probably scarred them for life. How can you even be a paramedic, helping people, when your mind is probably screaming for sex every time a woman walks too close to you?”

“Hey! I take my job just as seriously as you take yours, Brody. Just because I like women… alright, I
looove
women, which you should do more of by the way, doesn’t mean I don’t take my job in helping people who are hurt very, very seriously.”

“Can we just stop fighting for a minute and enjoy the beer and the food. I’m not in the mood for anymore fighting.”

Bryce shoved Wayne’s hand out of the way to get a large stack of nachos, melting over with yellow delicious cheese, then turned his slowly disintegrating interest back to Jefferson, sitting quietly, relaxing with his head back on the soft fabric of the booth.

“From a guy who thought he had his life planned out, and was going to get married soon, and perhaps have his own babies, how did you know she was pregnant? Taking all those tests and stuff?”

“Shouldn’t you already know these things being an EMT and all?” Jefferson teased and smiled at his friend.

“Obviously I don’t know shit, so why don’t you just tell me.”

“I knew it way before she did, way before she took any pregnancy test. Now, I know and appreciate my girl’s love for desserts and all things sweet, but when the amount of chocolate brought home from the store increased immensely, well that was my first clue. She just said she had a craving for it, like usual. ‘But not to that extent,’ was my first thought.”

They nodded in agreement of his astute perception.

“And… the crying. Oh, my god, what is up with women and their crying? Jesus.”

He got nothing back from the other guys on that one.

“I wouldn’t know,” Brody answered and wiped his gooey fingers on one of the napkins he’d stacked underneath his utensils.

“Of course you wouldn’t,” Wayne poked fun at his friend’s cluelessness. “But get that stick out of your ass, sleep with someone, and you might be seeing some tears. At least once a month, if you know what I mean.”

“Stop it, guys. I’m here to relax from stupid arguments. I love Raylyn to death, but my god, if she could just stop the crying it would be close to fantastic. I keep telling myself it will just be for a few months out of our whole life, so I shouldn’t complain. Just glad I’m not the one having a body made out of racing, raging hormones controlling my life. I couldn’t stand being teary-eyed because Harold’s ran out of salty trail mix, or a movie not ending the way I wanted it to, or not being able to stand the wonderful smell of crispy fried bacon.”

“So for our next get-together, no meat?”

“I’m guessing she’ll be a vegetarian until the baby comes. Maybe. I only know that I’m not allowed to fry meat inside the house. Currently she has the nose of a blood hound.”

“Hello, gentlemen. How are you men doing tonight?” Old Mrs. Taylor from the same neighborhood as Wayne’s mother walked by the booth slowly, leaning heavily on her cane, taking in the smile from each and every one of the men around the table.

“How’s that leg of yours doing, ma’am?” Wayne leaned out from the seat, touching the woman’s knee. “Pretty bad fall you took there last week. Knee alright?”

A hot wave flashed over the woman’s cheeks and she fanned her face vigorously with her hand.

“Oh, I’ll be alright dear. You take care now, and don’t let Bryce over there fall under the table, or I’ll tell his mother. But if so, at least we have you here Wayne, an EMT and all. And you, Brody. Thank God for you,” She brushed her hand lightly over Brody’s shoulder, grabbed the cane, and wobbled slowly over to the end of the bar where a bachelorette party was slowly forming.

“When are you leaving, Brody?” Wayne asked.

“Why? You need to get laid right now?”

“Maybe.”

“Can you at least let me finish my beer and for the love of god, you better make sure she’s not wasted.”

A few minutes passed by, fingers groped around in the nachos some more, beers were emptied and refilled, then refilled once again, and again. Finally Brody motioned for his bill, prompting Jefferson to pull out his phone, on somewhat wobbly hands, holding it close to his face to see the screen and make the call.

“Yep, we are done here, babe.”

Chapter Two

A mere fifteen minutes later, Raylyn’s blonde locks could be seen moving through the crowded bar, which had ended up more alive than when they’d arrived, just to be greeted with four very wide smiles as she reached the table.

“Hi, are you guys alright? You all look like you’re part of a Colgate commercial, and you’re freaking me out. Stop with the weirdness.”

That didn’t do anything, until Jefferson burped, excused himself and let her know he’d told them of how much she hated his inside meat frying, her love for chocolate, and that he was totally fine with the amount of candy stored in the house at the moment.

“Oh, you told them, didn’t you? That beer is like truth serum. It has magical powers over you guys.”

“Only if you… hold on…” A long burp escaped Bryce’s lips as well, before he leaned back and downed his fifth, no sixth, glass of golden liquid. “Only if you have these many.” Without taking his forehead away from resting in his hand he held up his other hand, counting each finger until he reached five, then held out his pinky on the other. Counting it to, yeah, six beers.

“Wayne, please stop touching my belly. I know you’re a paramedic and all, but I’m not really comfortable with other people touching me.”

“Only his hands then? Am I right?” He pointed a long finger over at Jefferson, smiling with delight in the corner of the booth.

“You bet your ass I touch her. Like this.” Jefferson held up two unsteady hands mimicking grabbing Raylyn’s breasts, squeezing them midair.

“Alright, gentlemen. Who am I driving home tonight? I need to go home and throw up and eat some more chocolate so it’s time to start moving.”

“I’ll come with you.”

“Well, that’s a surprise.” She answered her husband with a smile, who yet again formed his hands into groping mode in the air in front of him.

“I’d like a ride too, if it’s not too much to ask? And, I’m not going to bother asking Bryce, but he’s coming with us too.” Brody pulled out his wallet, putting down a few bills on the table, before he stood to let Jefferson slide out slowly, grinning at his wife tucking a strand of hair behind her ear.

“Bryce, do you need me to carry you out to Raylyn’s car?” Wayne elbowed his seat mate, and got a finger back in his face.

“I take that as a no. He’s all yours, Rayray.” As soon as Wayne had scooted out Bryce looked up and smiled at Raylyn, buttoning her coat for the coming cold air meeting them outside.

“You’re so pretty, Raylyn. I wish you were pregnant with my baby. Did you know Claire dumped me? After three years, and an engagement, I’m tossed back on the street like I’m not worth a thing. A damn thing.”

Wayne shook his head, and mouthed an apology Raylyn’s way. Brody on the other hand, stood in front of Jefferson holding back a drunken punch meant for Bryce, and not him.

“What a wonderful evening. Can we just get going?” Raylyn leaned into the booth and grabbed Bryce by his arm and helped him finally scoot along the seat and on wobbly legs, like Bambi’s first time on the ice, he wrapped his long arm around her shoulders and followed her lead out of the pub.

The last thing Wayne heard before the door closed and his four friends were all outside was Brody warning Jefferson that a punch to his friend’s face would do nothing but put him in jail for the night, just to have Jefferson’s slurring voice tell Bryce to back the hell away from his wife.

“Everything alright here?” The waitress was back to clear of the table, which was left in quite a mess, now that he looked back at it.

“Sorry about this, let me help you out.” He knew he could put on the charm whenever he wanted to, and tonight he definitely needed to. The amount of beers had made him relaxed and frankly, a tad too horny to go home by himself. There was nothing he found more useless than rubbing himself in the shower later instead of using himself up inside a pretty girl.

For a few minutes he helped her clean off the table, wiping up a few beer spills on the seat where Bryce had been sitting, and took the beer pitchers out of her hands to carry them across the floor and put them behind the bar.

“Thanks. You didn’t have to do that.” She smiled shyly, and that right there was his signal.

“When do you get off work tonight?” His voice just had to ask, it felt like it was automatic, the most common question in his vernacular. The work seemed to already be prepared and done. The only thing left was nakedness and sex. Sweaty, clingy sex. She looked like someone who could cling like a vine around his muscles, letting their moist bodies rub against one another until one of them screamed for release.

She looked down at the watch sitting tight on her slight wrist, then met his eyes once more.

“I can be off like right now, if you’d like?

“Alright, but you have to drive. Those beers you poured us won’t do well on my record if I get caught, knowing one of the other guys around the table tonight was the Sheriff.”

“Sure. Let me just tell my boss and I’ll be with you in a second.”

Oh, she sure was with him alright. Not just then, but was going to be for the rest of the evening.

All night he tossed her around among her bed sheets, trying to keep that erection rock hard blocking out Brody’s idiotic comment about fluid stained sheets, and fucked her all the way into the morning with just a few breathers and snack breaks in between.

This is why he didn’t want a girlfriend, he thought. Mindless fucking was absolutely fantastic: a new mouth breathing, a new voice screaming into his ear every weekend was paradise enough. Why change something so good? Something that had worked since he was in high-school. Making out, grabbing tits, having sex. No one asking when to see him again, or ‘what this thing between them’ was all about.

Some might have called him out for being a rude man-whore. Especially other women whom he didn’t sleep with.
Maybe they were just jealous
? he used to think. He knew what he had to offer physically and was damn proud of it. Six-pack abs, a tall height towering 6 foot 4, a nicely tattooed back and right shoulder, and from anatomy and biology classes, and years of experience within the medical field he knew his way around a woman’s body. Every nook and every cranny. If a part of skin existed anywhere, he’d know about it. And God how he loved taking advantage of that knowledge. Every weekend, every town, with just healthy check-up midweek to make sure things were good to go. Never any strings attached, only mind-blowing, sweaty one-night stands. Kiss some lips, lick some pussy, make someone scream, and then come.
Perfect
, he always thought.

Not that he’d hump and dump, only fuck someone mindlessly, and walk away. There was a big difference there. A girlfriend hadn’t existed since, well, probably high-school. Now he was way into his mid-thirties, the last one in the family, and the work crew to still dive down between a stranger’s bed sheets as often as people changed underwear. He still got it, and had no plans on changing that, ever.