“Fuck you,” says the man in the plaid. He turns to his partner. “Am not.”
Ever turns back to me as the man’s partner starts pulling balls off the table and cursing loudly. He takes a sip of beer, a smile curving his mouth, and says, more to himself, “Just thought you’d like to know.”
I frown at his strange mood. “I’m surprised you’re still here. I’m happy about it, don’t get me wrong, but it seemed like you were in a hurry to leave.”
“Yeah, well.” Ever drops his beer back on the table. “I guess I must be in the mood to torture myself.” A new song comes on the jukebox and he yells without looking, “Someone turn it up!” I watch the lone other woman in the bar walk to the jukebox and turn the dial, eyeing Ever with intention.
Yesterday on my lawn, the sheriff had pleaded with me for help one last time before I fled into my house.
“We don’t have enough evidence for a warrant yet,” he’d said. “Which is why we haven’t arrested him. We need a confession or some lead on evidence, a location where he stashes souvenirs, a tip on a weapon, something like that. You’re the one he trusts. We need your help.”
My father had turned to me with actual respect in his eyes and told me I had a chance to do something noble that would restore me to full righteousness in the eyes of the Lord. It was like he could see straight into my soul, the way he’d said,No matter your past sins, it’s a chance to repent. I hadn’t been able to look away from him. And it wasn’t only the guilt that held me there—it was also that old impulse, the one I thought I’d outgrown, to be good in his eyes. To make him proud. To be loved.
It had taken muscular force to push the impulse down. I’d had to remind myself that I knew better than to trust them. If Ever was evil, I would’ve known by now. No two people in the world have been closer than us. I’m the one who keeps secrets, not him. So I’m here tonight to protect Ever. Warn him about the sheriff, tell him to get out of town. I open my mouth, and…
Nothing comes out.
He watches me expectantly. His face is truly so haunting—those flecks of color dancing in his eyes as hypnotic as the bands of color on a coral snake, rustling in warning under fall leaves. A memory comes back: that day at the dock when we were eighteen and I crouched in front of him in the sand, locking an invisible door in his chest, shutting away all the things better left unsaid.
All the things I didn’t want to hear.
“Ever.” I clear my throat. “Did you ever run into Fred Fortenot at a gas station?”
He barely looks at me—he’s busy grinning at the woman who turned up the music, his white teeth dazzling in the low light. “I don’t know,Ruth.” He turns, still wearing the Cheshire cat smile. “Bottom Springs is a small town. Chances are.”
I try to sound casual. “You ever get in a fight with him?”
He rolls his empty bottle across the table, snatching it just before it falls to the floor. “You asked me here to talk about Fred?”
“Asshole,” barks the man in plaid, knocking Ever’s shoulder as he stalks past our table.
“Cheater,” Ever calls back, and the man stops. He turns. His eyes are hard.
“Say that to my face.”
Ever seems nearly giddy as he unfolds from the booth. “Gladly.”
The man looks up at him, taking in his height and breadth, and clenches his jaw. “You know what? Not worth my time.” He shoots me a dirty look and beelines out of the bar.
Ever sighs and drops back into the booth.
“Are you trying to start a fight?” I want to shake him. This is like his performance at Holy Fire: reckless, self-endangering. We’ve spent our friendship trying to take care of ourselves and each other, so I’ve never seen this side of him. He’s like a stranger.
Is that why you haven’t told him about the sheriff’s accusation? Are you doubting him?
I push away the Boone’s Farm.
“Let’s say I am trying to start a fight.” Ever’s dark eyes glitter. “Everyone around here already thinks I’m a villain. Why not give them what they want?” He glances at the woman by the jukebox, dancing slow and sultry to the rock song, and shakes his head. “They want it so bad, after all. What have I got to lose?” He returns to me. “I’ve got nothing left to care about, anyway.”
Hollowness empties my chest. Before I can answer, he leans in. “So, what’s next? You going to ask if I’ve ever tampered with HermanBlanchard’s gas lines? Come on, Ruthie. Let’s hear the next part of this very subtle interrogation.”
I jerk back like he’s slapped me, shame burning my cheeks, and then shove up out of the booth. “Whoever this person is I’m talking to, tell him I want my friend back.”
Ever doesn’t blink. “Funny. I’d like mine back, too.”
We stare at each other, two faces mirroring anger, until I can’t take it anymore. I leave him sitting in the booth, nearly kicking open the door to the bar on my way out. Let him keep drinking and fighting. Let him become his father for all I care.
Cloud cover means no stars tonight, so the outside world is dark and lonely. I’m unlocking my car when a deep voice calls, “Hey, Red. You’re pretty cute.”
