Chapter 15

Hunter

The knocks came again, and a little bit louder than before.

I’m coming, motherfuckers. Don’t you worry.

I wrapped my hand around the door handle, took a deep breath, and ripped it open, stepping out of the way of whatever was standing outside and about to come crashing in.

A fist came flying through the door. I caught it with my free hand and lifted the body attached to it into the wall, sending a cheap painting falling to the ground and shattering the frame.

I stood there seething, with my arm pinning the fucker’s head to the wall. I was about to bring the blade up to his neck when I heard him choke his words out.

“Hunter, Hunter, it’s me, son. It’s me, Dennis.”

I looked up and sure enough, the bloodshot eyes bulging out of the terrified face staring back at me were Denny’s. I took my arm off his throat and let him drop back to his feet while he coughed and tried to catch his breath.

“Jesus, boy! What in the hell do you think you’re doing? You damn near choked the life out of me. Not to mention knock my head off while you’re at it. Just what do you think you’re doing?”

I was about to ram a piece of steel in your fucking neck and watch you bleed out, Denny. That’s what I was doing.

“Denny, shit, I’m sorry, man. With those guys at the diner earlier and all, I didn’t know who it was. You didn’t say who it was.”

And you almost fucking paid the price, asshole. Know whose door you’re knocking on, Denny. You saw the punks in the diner. You should know by now.

“You need a stiff drink, son” Denny said, but then caught a whiff of my breath. “Judging by that gasoline coming off you, you’ve already started. Maybe have a few more, finish the bottle. Calm those nerves down a bit. Today was a mess, but don’t let it rattle you, boy.”

Shut your fucking mouth, Denny. I’ve still got a blade behind my back and it’s still got your name on it if you fucking want it to. Rattle me? Those punks in the diner were my pleasure. It’s that waitress with the green eyes and tight pussy that’s got my mind spinning. I’d tell you what we did, but I don’t want to give you a hard on or a heart attack.

“Yeah, maybe you’re right, Denny. Fuck. I’m sorry, man. Rough morning.”

Suddenly a voice behind me spoke up. A voice I recognized.

“Ah, Dennis, he’s been jumpy since the day I met him. Never was the mellow type, Old Hunter.”

Deacon?

I turned around and saw the closest thing I ever had to a friend standing there in my doorway. Shit, he was my friend. He was my only friend and the only person I could stand to be around that I wasn’t about to kill or fuck.

“Deacon, man, what the fuck? I mean how?” I tossed the blade in a pile of clothes so Denny wouldn’t hear it drop, and shook Deacon’s hand. He pulled me in and tapped my back twice with his fist.

“You can run, but you can’t hide, cocksucker,” he whispered, just loud enough that I could hear.

I could feel myself tensing and wished I hadn’t thrown the blade. Did the old man flip Deacon? He was always civilian. Never wanted a piece of our business. Tough as goddamn nails, but always kept a safe distance between himself and anything we did. How did the old man do it?

“Deacon. What the fuck, pal?”

I was wrapping my head around having to bash his fucking brains in right there in front of Denny, when Deacon pulled back and flashed me a smile. The smart ass was fucking with me.

“You going to offer me whatever is coming off your breath, dipshit? It’s a long fucking drive from Boston to Montana and I could use a goddamn drink. I’m pretty sure Dennis here needs a bottle.”

“No, thank you,” Dennis said, almost too eagerly. “No thank you, sir. I’m going to drink downstairs with the regular crew. You boys are too high strung for my liking. If he calms down, swing on by,” Dennis said, motioning to me. “You caught me off guard twice today, boy. There won’t be a third time.”

He walked out my door, trying to salvage whatever scraps of manhood he had left.

Denny, if you’re not fucking careful with your tongue, I will cut you open like a goddamn fish. Keep walking, tough guy. Change those pants. It looked like you shit yourself when I almost slit your goddamn throat.

“All right, Denny. I’ve been warned,” I said with a slight chuckle. “We open at the same time tomorrow, pal?”

“Same time, Hunter. Don’t get too far gone tonight. Swing by the bar for a couple. Deacon, nice meeting you, son. I promised to show you to Hunter’s place and here we are. I think you owe me a couple beers after that nonsense.”

“Yeah, Dennis, thanks a lot, pal. You got a couple coming your way on me, all right?”

Denny just waved his hand at Deacon as he made his way down the stairs.

“He’s a jolly fuck, isn’t he?” Deacon said with a smile. “You should’ve jammed that steel in his neck. You know I wouldn’t have said shit. Anyhow, how about that fucking drink, asshole?”

“Deacon, what the fuck are you doing here, man? How did you fucking find me? This was really fucking stupid, pal. You’re really fucking stupid.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa. Shut your fucking mouth, asshole. I’m stupid? I’m stupid? You mean like spit in the face of my father, Old Man Donnelly, and then take off with his money to Buttfuck, Montana? That kind of stupid? Because I don’t know anyone fucking dumber than that.”

Deacon was pointing his finger in my face and getting close. He was my boy, but I would knock him the fuck out if he took one step closer. Wouldn’t be the first time we’d come to blows. Probably wouldn’t be the last. Damn good thing too. He was the closest thing I ever had to a challenge in a fight. He could scrap better than anyone else I’d come across. Only guy to ever get the jump on me. He was a good friend.

“I’m not kidding, Deacon. You shouldn’t fucking be here, man. You could get this whole fucking town killed, you dumb fuck.”

“I wasn’t followed, Hunter.”

“How do you know that? How do I fucking know that? How do I know you aren’t selling me out right here and now?”

“You’re my fucking boy, Hunter. We go way, way back. You think I would ever do anything as fucking stupid as giving you up to whoever was trying to kill you? Fuck you, pal. Fuck you. I’m fucking out of here.”

Deacon started walking to the door and turned on his heel, heading back toward me.

“Better yet, how about I knock you the fuck out first, cocksucker? I didn’t drive all the way here just to watch you choke some fat fuck mechanic and then shit talk me like some rookie.”

“Jesus, Deacon. You on your fucking period or something?” He stopped in his tracks.

“The fuck you just say to me?”

“You seem a little easily upset is all. I was wondering if you were having a rag day,” I said, just fucking taunting the poor bastard. A smile broke out over his face as he kept moving toward me, his fists balled, ready to scrap.

“I’m going to beat your fucking ass to a pulp, you big mouthed motherfucker.”

“How about a drink first? You know, before I slap you around and send you packing,” I said, turning my back and walking over to where the bottle of whiskey was sitting.

“Sorry. No glasses, pal. I beg your fancy fucking forgiveness.”

I tossed the bottle to Deacon, he caught it, and drank the rest of it down. What an asshole.

“Well, shit, that tasted like heaven. Your cheap ass keep anything else lying around?”

I lit a cigarette and bobbed my fist in the air, telling him to go jerk off.

“So touchy, Hunter. Hey, don’t worry. I always come prepared,” he said as he pulled his flask out of his coat pocket and tossed it over to me.

I took a good pull and threw it back.

“Welcome to my humble abode, asshole,” I said. “Now, let’s get fucked up, shall we?”

I pulled another bottle out of the box I had next to the cot.

Some things never fucking changed.