1
Brant
The morning air has an edge of a chill to it that I’m still not used to, even after living here for a little over two months. I walk up to the front of the shop, digging into my pocket for the keys, while Puddles, my huge brindle English Mastiff, trots happily beside me, her tongue lolling out of the side of her mouth like she doesn’t have a care in the world. Must be nice to be a dog.
I’m steps away from the front door of the gun range that I now help run when I catch movement in my peripheral and turn to find someone slinking around the corner. My hand automatically flies back to where my gun would usually be holstered, but of course, I’m not in the Army anymore, so I grip nothing but air. The intruder moves more into view, and just before they step out of the shadows, I tense, ready to attack. In the next instant, my gaze falls on a familiar face as the early morning sun brightens her features, and I blow out a relieved breath. But that relief isveryshort lived. I immediately jerk my head skyward, looking as far up as I can, just to be safe.
“Dharla,” I grit out. “What thehellare you doing?”
The woman is in her late sixties, and she’s known around town for being eccentric as fuck. I mean, this is a small town, soeveryoneknows everyone, and all of the people here are a bit eccentric, but Dharla…well, she takes her notoriety to a whole other level. Case in point: She’s standing in front of me, on this otherwise beautiful morning, where anyone can see her on Main Street, buck naked, and holding out a half-empty can of soup. She shakes the soup can at me, and I can hear liquid and loose change slapping around inside.
“Feed the poor,” she says, before hacking a surprisingly robust cough and spitting a nice, thick wad of mucus onto the sidewalk.
Fucking great.
I keep my eyes up, because for fuck’s sake, I donotwant to see Dharla Cornburner’s pale, flabby, and nude body first thing in the morning. Her tits are down to her belly button, and I’m quite certain there’s a red mole on her thigh that needs to be looked at.
“Dharla, you’re not poor,” I remind her, as I try to keep my eyes on my shop sign so that I don’t do further damage to my eyes or my brain. Puddles is big and scary looking enough to warn off any threats, but apparently she doesn’t see anything wrong with this situation, and she trots off to sniff around the parking lot, abandoning me in my dire time of need. Traitor.
“Iampoor,” Dharla insists with an indignant sniff. “My Willy left me without a cent when he died!”
I sigh. I am not awake enough for this shit. “Dharla, your husband died ten years ago, and he didn’t leave you anything in the will, because you’re rich as fuck and you already had all of the money.”
She completely ignores that and sloshes the can in front of my face again, making broth splash out onto my boots. Damn it all, I just fucking cleaned them. I take a step back and release a frustrated huff. I dig my phone out of my front pocket and hold it above me so that I can see the contacts without having to catch an eyeful of Dharla Cornburner’s...cornburner. My first few dealings with Dharla were not of the nude variety, but her crazy is always in full-effect. I managed to get the number of her live-in nurse the last time I had a run-in with Dharla, and luckily, I had the foresight to save it.
Nurse June picks up after one ring. “She at the range again?” she asks me, no preamble or greeting as she gets right to the point.
“Yes, ma’am. And she doesn’t have a speck of clothing on her, so you may want to bring something,” I inform June, and the line goes dead with no response from the other end except for a long-suffering sigh. Now, if you weren’t familiar with Endstone or with Dharla, you might think that kind of rude, but June is a fucking saint, and she doesn’t waste precious seconds on pleasantries when she needs them to wrangle Dharla and all of her insanity.
A small, frail hand suddenly grabs my crotch and I jump back, startled, nearly dropping my phone on the sidewalk. “Dharla, that’s not cool!” I chastise as I push her hand away.
“A blonde-haired, blue-eyed boy with muscles to spare. You’ll do just fine,” she nods, eyeing me up and down lasciviously. “I usually like a beard, but clean-shaven will be alright.”
“Glad I passed the test,” I say dryly.
“Those glasses make you look smarter than you are,” she says, which I’m pretty sure is her version of a compliment. “You need a haircut,” she adds.
I run a hand over my short mohawk. “I’ll get right on that.”
She just cackles and reaches out to pinch my nipple through my shirt. “There, I serviced you,” she says. “Now pay up.”
I dig into my pocket and toss every last scrap of cash and coin I have into her soup can, just so that she won’t accost me again. She cackles delightedly, but then sits down right in front of my shop’s door, her legs spread wide in front of her. I groan and run a hand over my face, praying that June gets here real quick.
Dharla starts sipping from her soup can and spits out a penny, showing it to me. “This year is a real nice mint,” she says.
I blow out a breath. “Right.”
I turn on my heel and head across the street to hide behind the hardware store owner’s truck. Cowardly? Maybe. But with her legs spread-eagled like that, I’d like to keep some space between us. Unfortunately, as soon as she drinks the rest of her gross broth, she gets up and follows me over. June finally shows up, just in time to find me running in circles to keep away from the randy and very senile Dharla as she chases after me, her flabby bits flapping in the wind.
As soon as Dharla catches sight of June’s car pulled up next to us, she stops like she knows the jig is up. It makes me question if Dharla is as crazy as everyone says, or if she’s just old, bored, and likes to get a stir out of the citizens of Endstone. If it’s the latter, I’d have to be grudgingly impressed. June gets Dharla wrapped up in a coat in no time, and I help wrangle her into the backseat of the car as June promises more soup for her at home. “Thanks, Brant,” June tells me with a wave before getting into the car.
“See ya.”
As if I haven’t been traumatized enough this morning, Dharla rolls down her window and waves a saggy boob at me in a goodbye. It’s an image I’ll have to burn from my brain.
“Fucking Endstone,” I say with a shake of my head. This town is crazy. The guys and I have only been here for ten weeks, but shit like this is already becoming commonplace.
I shoot a glare at Puddles, who finally decides to meander on over to my side again as I make my way across the parking lot to the front of my shop. There’s a Dharla-shaped smudge on the door that will make Madix go crazy. I smirk, deciding it’ll be a small consolation that I’ll let him deal with. Puddles nudges my thigh as we walk, but I shake my head at her. “Some kind of emotional support animal you are,” I tell her sternly. “You left me to fend for myself in a state of distress.”
