“No, but that doesn’t matter! He –”
“When I was a cop,” Tate cut in, “we frowned on folks givin’ false statements. Now that was in Colorado.” Tate crossed his arms on his chest and leveled his eyes on the cop. “You might do things different here in Indiana.”
The policeman looked at Tate. “You were a cop?”
“Jesus!” Brad shouted. “Stop acting like he’s some kind of God! This is a serious situation! I was assaulted!”
The cop turned to Brad and he must have looked at him in a particular way because Brad clamped his mouth shut. Then the cop turned to me.
“You wanna make a deal outta him harassin’ you?” he asked.
“This is insane!” Brad cried.
“No, I just want him to go away,” I said to the cop.
“I can do that,” the cop replied and turned to Brad.
“Are you serious?” Brad asked the cop.
“Deadly,” the cop replied. “Jackson’s right. I’m a cop in a small town but I got things to do. The IMPD got things to do. We don’t got time to run around doin’ errands for some guy who got his pride stung.”
“I –” Brad started but the cop leaned in.
“You’d be advised to keep your trap shut,” the policeman interrupted him. “They make a big deal outta this,” he jerked a thumb at Tate and me, “trust me, way it sounds, you’re not gonna come out on top.”
Brad glared at the policeman then he glared at Tate. His angry eyes swept through Caroline, Mack, back to the policeman and then rested on me.
“You said we could work it out,” he accused.
“Yeah, Brad, I said that over a year ago,” I reminded him.
“Bud, move on,” Tate advised. “And clue in, Laurie already has. You’re history.”
“Piss off,” Brad hissed.
Tate sighed.
Brad looked back to me and his eyes were squinty. “Be warned, Lauren, after this, you want back, you’ll have to work hard for me to take you.”
“Seriously?” Tate muttered.
“Jeez Brad!” Carrie cried, “How far up your own butt are you? Look at her! Look at him!” She motioned to Tate and me with her arm. “You don’t stand a chance. She’s so far out of your league she can’t even see you,” she turned to me, “and, Big Sister, you always were.”
“I’m uncertain why you’re even talking,” Brad snapped at Caroline. “You always had a mouth on you and it was always a mouth I did not like.”
“Would I get arrested, say, if I assaulted him now, right in front of you?” Mack asked the cop but his eyes were on Brad.
“Probably,” the policeman answered.
“Probably?” Brad shouted.
“That’s too bad,” Mack murmured.
Tate chuckled and Brad turned squinty eyes to him.
“This isn’t over Jackson,” he warned.
Tate stopped chuckling and informed Brad in a dangerous voice, “Friendly head’s up, I don’t respond well to threats.”
“All right,” the policeman got between the two of them, “let’s not make this into a situation where I gotta do paperwork.” He turned to Brad. “Best you go.”
Brad skewered us all with a look, declaring, “You haven’t seen the last of me.”
“Might be wrong but that sounded like another threat,” Tate noted.
“Fuck you!” Brad shouted and Tate looked down at me.
“He always need the last word?”
I considered this, realized it was true as I realized it always kind of annoyed me and nodded.
Tate grinned. “I get you na**d in my bed and in the shower, he gets the last word,” Tate’s eyes sliced to Brad, “works for me.”
Brad lunged. “You son of a –”
Tate’s finger, still in my belt loop, pulled me back, he stepped in front of me and the cop stepped in front of Brad, put a hand flat on his chest and cautiously pushed back.
“You don’t wanna do that,” the policeman warned.
Brad glared at Tate then he looked at me.
“Mistake, Ree,” he put a hand up, palm out in my direction, “big f**king mistake.”
Then he turned and stormed off the patio.
We all watched him as he tore down the lane, gravel spitting out from his tires of his rental car, then the policeman turned back to us.
He stuck a hand out to Tate and said, “Marty Fink.”
Tate took his hand, they shook and Tate muttered, “Marty.”
They dropped hands and the cop glanced around us all. “Sorry about that, had to follow up.”
“Your job. Not a problem,” Tate said.
“Is it really cool Dad meets you for a beer at The Station?” Marty asked hopefully as Mack handed Tate a Coke and they both popped the tabs.
“Yeah, man, but we ain’t hangin’ out. We gotta get back to the hospital,” Tate answered then took a pull on his Coke.
“When you goin’?” Marty asked.
“Leavin’ in fifteen, twenty,” Mack answered.
“All call Dad,” Marty muttered and then his eyes went to Tate. “You’ll make his year.”
Tate didn’t reply; he just lifted his chin.
Marty raised his hand in a half wave. “Again, sorry folks.” He looked at me. “Hope he burns out and realizes he’s actin’ like an ass and you can just keep on…” he paused and glanced at Tate before finishing, “keepin’ on.”
“Thanks,” I smiled at him.
Marty’s eyes got serious and he stated, “Jackson was a cop, now a bounty hunter, I think he gets this but if you don’t… that guy gets in your face again, you go to the police.”
“It won’t be an issue,” Tate put in.
Marty nodded to Tate but repeated, “He gets in her face again, you get her to go to the police.”
“Right,” Tate replied, Marty nodded again, looked at us all, gave another half wave, turned and walked away.
“Tatum f**kin’ Jackson,” Mack said and everyone turned to look at Tate who was studying Mack.
“What was that all about?” Caroline asked, getting close.
“First round draft pick, Philadelphia Eagles, do I remember right?” Mack asked Tate and I felt my eyes get wide as I stared at Tate.
“Yeah,” Tate answered.
“Star at Penn State, Eagles traded picks to get you, the whole f**kin’ state adopted you as a native son,” Mack went on.