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“He’s a heroin addict.”

“Oh, wow. Okay.” She wasn’t upset, but hadn’t expected that.

“That’s how we met. He’s been clean for awhile. At least until Debbie fucked him over. He relapsed, and I’ve been helping him back on the wagon.”

Alma rubbed Paul’s leg. “You’re a good person, Paul.”

“I’ve just got you fooled, little Miss Harper.” He walked his fingers up her leg, then up her stomach until they were between her breasts. He pushed her back onto the bed and lay down beside her. “Because I’m a bad boy. Remember? That’s why you fell for me.”

“The tattooed bad boy my Mommy used to warn me about?” Alma pushed his hand away and then grabbed his belt buckle.

“Wait,” said Paul. He took her hand off his buckle, preventing her from undoing it. “There’s one other thing I have to tell you.”

“Oh crap,” said Alma, again recognizing Paul’s tentative tone. “What is it?”

“Jacker’s in trouble with the law.”

“What? Why?”

“Well, you’re right about him being a big teddy bear. He’s one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met, but I saw a different side of him come out this week. After he found out what Debbie was doing, he flipped. He started using, and then just went to shit. I’ve never seen someone fall apart like that before.”

“What did he do?” asked Alma. “Why is he in trouble with the police?”

“You remember how I told you that he lost his job?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, he lost it because he put his boss through a plate glass window.”

Alma gasped. “You’re kidding.”

“No, unfortunately not. And it gets worse.”

“Of course it does,” said Alma as she started to become frustrated.

Paul stood up and started to empty his pockets. He tossed his keys, wallet, and spare change onto the dresser. “After that, he knew he was going to get in trouble, so he went to Debbie’s work. He found the guy that she’d been cheating on him with.”

“Oh no, what did he do?”

“What do you think he did?”

Alma sat up and shrugged. “I don’t know. He seemed like such a passive, nice guy to me. I can’t imagine him hurting anyone. For crying out loud, he passed out from just seeing me cut my foot open.”

“I doubt that’s the whole story with that.”

“What do you mean?” asked Alma.

“I think he’s been using,” said Paul. “He told me he just used once, right after he found out about Debbie, but I don’t know if I believe him. I think he’s still taking something. I’m not sure what, but he’s been acting weird all week. He’s been living out of that fucking van ever since he…” Paul stopped and rubbed his eyes as he sighed.

“He what?”

“He put Debbie’s boy toy in the hospital. The kid’s in serious condition. Jacker found him in the alley, on a smoke break, and beat his head against the wall until he stopped moving.”

“Holy shit,” said Alma. “I would’ve never guessed. He seems like such a nice guy.”

“That’s just it, babe. He is a nice guy. Seriously one of the nicest guys I’ve ever met. He just got pushed too far and he snapped, and the drugs didn’t help.”

“Should we turn him in?” asked Alma.

“No!” Paul was angry and screamed louder than he meant to. “Fuck no.”

“But he put a guy in the hospital, Paul. I’m sure the cops are looking for him.”

“Yeah, and he’s got priors. If he gets pinched for this, he’s going away for a long time.”

“What sort of priors? Who is he? Are we driving around with a career criminal or something?”

“No,” said Paul. “It’s not like that. He had a rough life, just like a lot of us. He got into some shit that he shouldn’t have, and he’s been working hard to pick himself up out of that shit. He fucked up, that’s all. And now it’s going to cost him his life.”

“Paul, Jesus, I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to react to this.”

“I figured you had the right to know.”

“And so do Rachel and Stephen,” said Alma.

“No they don’t. It’s better for them to stay in the dark.”

“Then why did you tell me?”

Paul looked at her and reached out to hold her hand. “Because I don’t want to keep secrets from you. I want to do it right this time around. You deserve to know the truth.”

Alma walked away from him and went to the window that overlooked Branson. “Maybe not. Maybe sometimes it’s better not to know.”

* * *

“Come on,” said Stephen. “Do a shot with me.”

“No,” said Jacker as he sat beside Stephen at the bar. “Honestly man, I’m good.”

“What?” asked Stephen as if Jacker had to be lying. “You’ve been driving all damn day. You’ve got to at least let me buy you a drink.”

“I’ll have a Coke.”

Stephen looked offended and ignored Jacker. “Excuse me, beautiful,” said Stephen as he waved down the lithe, pretty bartender. The girl held up her finger to let Stephen know he had to be patient.

“I should probably head up and get some sleep,” said Jacker.

Stephen grabbed his arm. “No way, pal. You’re with me tonight. Rachel went shopping, and I got the go ahead to have some beers at the bar. No chance in hell I’m going to let you take off on me. Sit your ass down, big guy.”

“Hello, gentlemen,” said the blonde haired, blue eyed bartender as she came over. She had studs in either cheek that accentuated her dimples, and vibrant tattoos curled up from under her tight shirt, over her shoulders. “What can I get for you tonight?”

“Now, how in the hell am I supposed to sit here and not ask to see your tattoo?” asked Stephen as he peered at her cleavage. “Does that go all the way down?”

“Oh boy,” said the bartender with a smile. “Are you that type of guy?” She chided him and then winked at Jacker. “Are you going to sit here asking to see my tits all night?”

Stephen held up his left hand and showed his wedding ring. “A few years ago, yes. But I’m a married man now. My friend here, however, is all sorts of single.” He pat Jacker on the back. “Maybe if we get a few drinks into him he’ll loosen up a little and start flirting with you so I don’t have to.”

“Well,” said the bartender as she smiled at Jacker. “I’ll certainly look forward to that. What am I getting you two started with?”

“How about some whiskey? I’m in a bourbon mood,” said Stephen.

“Just a Coke for me,” said Jacker.

“God damn it,” said Stephen. “Stop fighting me on this! Tell you what, darling.” He reached out and took the bartender’s arm. “Bring me two shot glasses, same size, and fill one with whiskey and the other with water.”

“Uh oh,” said the bartender. “Looks like we’re about to witness a bar trick.”

“Zip it, beautiful,” said Stephen before he turned back to Jacker. “Here’s the deal. She’s going to get us two shot glasses, one with whiskey and one with water. The whiskey is mine, and the water is yours.”

“Okay,” said Jacker. “What’s the trick?”

“We both have to drink our own glass one minute after she serves them.”

“What’s the trick? Are you going to try to get me to turn around or something? Switch the glasses?”

“Nope,” said Stephen. “And I can’t drink either of them before the one minute is up, and I can’t use a straw, and I can’t leave my seat. If I can get my whiskey into your shot glass before the minute is up, then you have to drink it.”

The bartender had the two shot glasses ready and waiting on her shelf on the other side of the bar. She had her lips pursed, restraining a smile, and her eyes twinkled as she looked back and forth between the two of them.