“And no alcohol, of course,” interjected Jack.
“No, sir,” said Blake right away, though his friends gave goofy grins.
“Right. She’ll have to get back to you on that, sport,” said Jack, while Mikki scowled at her father.
“Nine o’clock. About the midpoint of our run, near where the big yellow house is,” he added.
“Right.”
“Okay, hope to see you there.”
The young men walked off.
“What was that all about?” demanded Jack.
“Do you have a boyfriend?” a grinning Cory wanted to know. “I thought you liked this Liam guy.”
Mikki’s face reddened. “Will you two just knock it off?”
“That guy doesn’t even have an earring, and his hair is perfectly normal,” said Jack. “He’s not your type. He’s a football player, for God’s sake. You hate football players.”
“Who told you that?”
“Your mom. She made a big joke out of it because she married a football player.”
“I think I can decide for myself what my type is,” Mikki said hotly.
“Well, I’m still your dad and I don’t like the idea of—”
“Hey, Miracle Man!”
Jack jerked around to see where the voice had come from.
“Over here, Miracle.”
Jack turned to see two large men sitting in the cab of a pickup truck staring at him. One man stuck his head out of the truck. “I need me a miracle. You want’a come over here and sprinkle some water on my head?” He waved a five-dollar bill. “I ain’t expecting miracles for free. I’ll pay good money for it.” Both men burst out laughing. They got out of the truck and leaned against it, their big arms folded over their thick chests. They were dressed in jeans and dirty T-shirts, with greasy ball caps on their heads. Their bare arms were covered in tattoos.
Cory said fearfully, “Dad?”
“It’s okay, son. We’ll just keep on walking.”
They passed by the men.
One of them said, “Hey, Miracle, you too good to stop for us poor folk?”
Mikki whirled around and said, “Grow up, you creeps!”
“Mikki,” Jack snapped. “Just keep walking.”
“Yeah, Mikki,” mimicked one of the men. “Just keep walking, sugah.”
Jack stiffened at this remark. He almost turned around, but his kids were with him, and he knew nothing good would come out of a confrontation. Jack said to the kids, “We’ll go on down to the beach when we get back, and—”
“Hey, Miracle, was it true your slutty wife was cheating on you with your best bud?”
Jack moved so quickly, Cory’s hand was still up in the air where it had been clutching his dad’s. When Jack rushed at them, the first man threw a punch. Jack ducked it, grabbed the man’s hand, ripped it back and then over his shoulder, swung him around, and slammed him headfirst into the truck. When the bloodied man turned back around and charged at Jack, he sidestepped the attack and leveled the guy with a crushing blow to the jaw. The second man slammed into Jack’s back, propelling him forward and face-first into a lamppost. In the next instant he’d spun out of the man’s grasp, laid a fist into his diaphragm, doubling him over, and then kicked his legs out from under him. Jack’s elbow strike to the back of the man’s neck sent him down to the pavement, where he stayed, groaning loudly.
Jack was bent over, his breaths coming in gasps and blood pouring down his face from where he’d hit the post. As he straightened up and looked around, it seemed like the entire town of Channing was staring back at him. No one moved; no one seemed even to be breathing. As he glanced across the street, he saw Jenna and Liam staring at him from the door to the Little Bit. When he looked to his left, he saw Bonnie and Fred gawping at him in shock from the entrance to the gift shop. Bonnie looked at Jack, then to the unconscious men, and then back at her bleeding son-in-law.
“Daddy!”
Jack looked over his shoulder. Jackie was standing on the sidewalk bawling. Cory stood there looking in amazement at his dad, while Mikki glowered contemptuously at the two men lying on the pavement. “Idiots,” she said.
Jack quickly piled his kids into the VW and drove off.
36
Jack sat at the kitchen table with ice wrapped in a paper towel and held over his left cheek. Dried blood was stuck to his forehead from the impact with the street lamp. When someone knocked on the door, Jack half expected it to be the police.
“Old man and wady,” squealed Jackie after he managed to open the door.
Jenna and Charles strode in. She was carrying a small bag and sat down next to Jack. She started pulling things out: sterilized wipes, Band-Aids, an ice pack, and antibiotic cream.
“What are you two doing here?” asked Jack.
Jenna moved Jack’s hand away from his battered face and cleaned up the cuts, applied the ointment, and covered it all with a large Band-Aid.
Charles said, “We thought you might need a little assistance.”
“Those two idiots,” said Jenna. “Going off half-cocked like that. Probably drunk.”
“You know them?” asked Jack.
“They come into the bar every once in a while. But I can’t really say I know them.”
“They’re from Sweat Town,” added Charles.
Jenna frowned. “I despise that term.”
“Well, it’s not very nice, but I think the residents actually coined it,” said Charles.
“What exactly is Sweat Town?” asked Mikki.
“Other side of the tracks,” replied Charles. “Poor side of town. Every coastal area has them. Most of the people who do the actual work around here live there.”
Jenna said, “Here’s an ice pack. It’ll work faster on that swelling.”
“Thanks.”
She closed up her bag, sat back, and studied Jack’s face. “Okay, you should be good to go.”
“You’re pretty slick at that,” said Mikki.
“Just your mom-standard-procedure stuff.”
Jackie jumped up and down trying to get to her bag of medical supplies. Jenna finally placed a Band-Aid on his finger and kissed it. “Now your boo-boo is all gone too.” She straightened back up and gazed steadily at Jack. “Looks like you didn’t forget your army training. Those weren’t small guys, and you put ’em down pretty fast.”
Jack grimaced. “It was stupid. Never should’ve happened.”
The door opened, and Sammy walked in carrying his motorcycle helmet. “Had a nice little ride—” When he saw Jack, he exclaimed, “What the hell happened? You fall off a ladder?”
Jackie yelled, “Daddy pighting.” The little boy did a kick and then swung his fist so hard he fell over.
“Fighting? Who with?” demanded Sammy.
Mikki and Cory both started telling Sammy what had happened. The older man’s features turned dark as he listened to them. When they got to the slur that the one man had called Lizzie, Sammy went over to his toolbox and pulled out a crowbar. “You tell me what they look like and where I can find these maggots.”
“No, Sammy,” said Jack.
“I’m not letting them get away with this crap,” barked Sammy.
“I’ll handle it.”
“What, you think I’m too old to take care of myself?”
“That’s not the point. You beat them up, your butt will land right in jail.”
Charles said, “He’s right, Sammy. That’s not the way to go about it.”
“Uh-oh,” said Jackie. He was peering out the window into the front yard.
“What is it, Jackie?” asked his sister.
Jackie pointed to the door, his eyes so big they appeared to touch. “Cop dude,” he said in a very un-Jackie-like whisper. Then he sped into the next room to hide.