Games We Play (33 page)

“Now that’s what I call planning ahead,” she said, glancing over at Hugo snoring up a storm in his chair. Not-so-nice Hugo. She’d caught him staring at her, him and his brother, the Proctor brothers, and what a pair, straight from some old movie in which everyone threatened black folk on the daily with bodily harm.
Where is the other one?
she wondered.

When they stared at her, she stared back, and they’d end up in a crazy staring contest. She knew it wasn’t smart to lock horns with the brothers—nothing would change their thinking, and they would never get with the new and improved program called change. But she stared back anyway.

“I’ll need to finish something up, so I’ll be in my office. We can leave as soon as Hugo’s gone. Do you mind watching him? Call me when Jeremiah comes, and I’ll come out and let him in.”

“I don’t mind letting him in.”

“No, it’s okay, I’d rather deal with Jeremiah personally. He can be a bit tricky sometimes,” he said.

“Sure,” she said, shaking her head, glad that Cooper had devised a method to ensure that his most intoxicated customers found their way home, even the not-so-nice ones—and what had he meant by tricky?

She sat back on her barstool, listening to the snores from Hugo, watching as he relocated himself from his chair to the floor underneath the tables.
Okay, whatever
, she thought. The hardness of the floor apparently wasn’t a problem for him.

Hearing a car door slam, she walked over to the front door. She could see a minivan through the window. It must be Jeremiah. A van stood parked next to the curb, had one of those removable signs on the doors that read
Taxi
. She opened the door.

“You must be Jeremiah,” Kendall said, smiling. She’d had to look up. God, he was tall, built like a mountain man, sleeveless T-shirt covering a huge chest, guns built for doing some serious damage, and enough tattoos for three people.

“Where’s Cooper?” he asked, looking at her like she was something that had left a bad smell on his shoe.

She stepped away. “In the back,” she said, answering in the best way she knew how when encountering his type of male—with no small amount of confidence and no show of fear. She’d seen others like him before.

“Jeremiah,” Cooper said, emerging from the back, and this was a very different Cooper from the one she knew.…He was as serious as he’d been on that night he’d accused her of wanting to take advantage of her aunt.

“Where’s my customer?” Jeremiah said, standing at the door, not even a hint of pleasantness in his voice.

“On the floor,” Cooper said.

“Under the table,” Kendall added.

“Hugo,” Jeremiah said, recognizing the man as he strode toward him.

“Hugo,” Cooper said.

Jeremiah slid the man out from under the table by his feet. He lifted him from the floor effortlessly and carried him in his arms, like you would a baby, through the pub and out the front door. The swastika tattoo on his right bicep caught Kendall’s attention, confirming her first impression of him. She stood and watched as Cooper followed him out the front door.

They were talking now, Jeremiah and Cooper, and she moved closer to the window to listen. Cooper opened the back door to the van, like you would an ambulance, watching as Jeremiah placed Hugo inside.

“I hear Hank’s back,” Jeremiah said as he strapped Hugo in.

“He is.”

“That’s good.”

“It is what it is,” Cooper said.

Jeremiah smiled. “We can finally put an end to your experiment with the old black woman,” he said.

“I wouldn’t count on it,” Cooper said, closing one side of the door while Jeremiah closed the other.

“I can’t believe you. Here with her. What are you thinking? This is a public place. You could at least try to hide what you’re doing,” he said, shaking his head. “What would your father think? It’s a good thing he’s dead, because you’re a disgrace to the Cooper name.”

“It’s really none of your business,” Cooper said. He stood watching as Jeremiah turned away from him and climbed into the driver’s seat. Cooper remained standing on the curb as Jeremiah slid behind the wheel and pulled the van away. He locked the front door behind him after he was back inside.

“Give me five,” he said, turning to face her. He was angry. “And next time, would you do as I ask?” He walked away from her, heading toward his office.

Okay
…she thought, biting back her temper and her who-the-hell-are-you-talking-to retort. She followed him into his office, determined to talk to him about what she’d heard Jeremiah say about her and the old black woman, to tell him that she didn’t hide from anybody. She stood watching as he took a seat behind his desk.

“He’s an asshole,” she said.

“Really? What gave it away?”

“I overheard what he said about me and Myra.”

“I wish you hadn’t. He’s a part of Coopersville’s past. He can be difficult, which is why I asked you to tell me when he was here,” Cooper said, running his hand through his hair.

“I can handle his type. I’ve seen it before. But I’m sorry anyway. You did ask,” she said.

“You ready?” he asked.

“So he doesn’t care for me?” she said.

“He doesn’t know you,” he said from his chair.

“You know what I mean. Not Kendall me, African American me,” she added. Cooper didn’t respond, just sat there staring at her. “He has the tattoo of a swastika on his arm.”

“Yes, he does.”

“That doesn’t bother you?”

“It does, but what can I do about it?”

“Nothing, I guess. Does he come here often?”

“He’s the regular taxi service of some of the patrons here, remember. So yes, he does.”

“How long have you known him?”

“Why?” he asked.

“Curious,” she said.

“Leave it alone,” he said.

“So you’re telling me to allow him and his bigotry to go unchallenged?”

He ran his hand through his hair again, pulling it up, as if he could make it stand on end. “What good would it do to argue with him?”

She could tell he was still angry. “It would make me feel better, how about that?”

He ran his hand over his face this time. “Really, besides making
you
feel better, will it change him? Hank’s proposal is just bringing out the old ways that used to rule here. I’m sure you’ve heard how it used to be in this town. It was a very different place, and some of that attitude still lives here.”

“You have to fight back,” she said.

“I don’t need you to tell me that,” he said, cutting his eyes over to her.

“I don’t want to argue with you, certainly not about him,” she said.

“Good, then we’re in agreement.”

“Okay,” she said, looking at him oddly. “Is there something you need to tell me?

“If there’s something I think you should know, I’ll tell you,” he said, sitting back in his chair.

It was quiet for a few minutes as they stared at each other, both of them a little angry, still working to let go of it, although their anger wasn’t really at each other; it was the result of dealing with folk like Jeremiah. It was always a bit of a surprise to face that brand of hate, and no amount of preparation made you ready to see it.

After a few moments had passed, Cooper blew out a breath. “What did you think the first time we met, at the gas station? Did you wonder if I’d dated African American women before you started to flirt with me?” he asked.

“You smiled when I smiled, you laughed at my humor, you liked the way I looked. I could tell you were interested. Was any of that not true?” she asked.

“No, it was all true,” he said, continuing to stare at her. “I would really rather not discuss the racial past of Coopersville, Texas. I grew up with it, whether I wanted to or not, so excuse me if I try and limit the amount of energy I spend giving it additional thought,” he said.

“Fine,” she said, her tone indicating that it was anything but.

He sat in his chair watching her for a minute, still silent.

“What?” she asked.

“I enjoy looking at you,” he said, changing the subject. He stood up and walked over to her. “You do know that you’re beautiful?” he said, kissing her neck, pushing her toward the door with his body.

“I thought we were leaving.”

“We are, in a minute,” he said, continuing to lightly push her until her back rested against the door. His hands found her waist, and he leaned into her, kissed her. She tasted like his beer and mints. He smiled at the beer part.

“What are you smiling about?”

“I like tasting my beer on you. I like having you here at the end of each night. I like waking up with you in front of me or behind me—it doesn’t matter where, only that your body is next to mine to do with as I please.” He whispered the last few words before his mouth found hers again, all warm and welcome.

“Hefeweizen is still my favorite,” she said, her lips on his. She wrapped her arms around his neck, his hands sliding down her dress. He lifted her legs, placing them around his waist. She unzipped his jeans and reached inside, taking the time to run her hands over him. He groaned, and she smiled at what was quickly becoming another of her favorite sounds.

“Condom,” he said, and placed it in her hands to do the honors.

He removed her underwear, then replaced her legs around his back, tilting her hips up at an angle and entering her in one smooth thrust. The sound of their commingling moans filled the air as he held her tightly to him, his arms wrapped around her waist, moving her up and down. It was fast, and it was quick, both of them climaxing a few minutes later.

“I am so glad we agreed to this summer thing. I like being here with you too, and waking up with your body behind mine, all hard and smooth, is my favorite,” she said, her forehead resting against his. She was testing him to see if he’d started to think of the future too.

“You keep talking like that and we’ll be here all night,” he said, smiling, and then kissed her again.

“You’re a good guy,” she said.

“You think so?” he said, and kissed her before placing her feet back on the floor.

“Bathroom,” he said, turning away before she could read his expression.

“Sure,” she said, stepping aside.
What an odd question,
she thought. Did she think so? She watched him close the bathroom door, pondering that question and his actions and reactions before he’d initiated sex. Her mind returned again to Jeremiah, and how he hadn’t found one ounce of friendliness when she’d said hello. There was more to the Cooper story, and it was vastly different from the friendly man who supported and loved her aunt.

First week in July, Wednesday

“S
o, Myra, the Klan used to be big here?” Kendall asked from the driver’s seat of her SUV; she and Myra were heading back from the home of a student, a male one this time, Ricky, who was readying himself for nursing school in the fall. He’d gotten accepted to a local junior-college nursing program.

“I don’t know if I’d say big, since this town has never been that big,” she said, looking over at Kendall expectantly.

“I’m curious, that’s all. I’m still trying to learn as much as I can about Coopersville, and it’s been a bit different at the pub since Hank’s return. I’ve seen some not-so-friendly faces. I also met Jeremiah the other night, and he’s so different from Cooper, but they know each other, very well from what I overhead of their conversation, that’s all,” she said, chuckling at her long, meandering explanation.

“Have you spoken to Cooper?” Myra said.

“I tried. Mentioned it after I met Jeremiah. He wasn’t very forthcoming,” she said, and grew quiet for a minute. “I just wondered if there was something about Cooper that I might need to know.”

“Cooper knows most of the townsfolk, either from having grown up here or from the pub. Are you two getting serious?” Myra asked.

“I don’t know.”

“I thought, or hoped, you two might eventually…” Myra said, trailing off.

“Might eventually what?”

“Get married?” Myra said. It was quiet on Kendall’s end. “I thought you enjoyed being here.”

“I do. I like this town and its residents.”

“But not seriously,” Myra said.

“I seriously like this town and its residents,” Kendall said, smiling.

“Oh, Kendall,” Myra said, laughing. She grew serious a moment later. “Cooper is a very private person. Do you think it wise for a person to share something deeply personal about themselves with someone who is just passing through?”

“No, I guess not,” Kendall said, dropping the subject, not that she’d expected her aunt to talk about Cooper’s past.

Wednesday evening

Cooper pulled into his driveway. He was home to change into his golf gear, and then it would be off to the driving range to meet Kendall. He’d knocked off early, wanting to get in a shower before heading to the course. He’d better get a move on—it would be dark in the next thirty minutes, although darkness at the course with Kendall held interesting possibilities. Hugo and Stanley were sitting on his front porch waiting for him, which wasn’t an unusual occurrence. They stopped by often, usually to talk their home brew trials and tribulations, but mostly it was to drink
his
home brew.

He sensed that today’s talk would be different. In fact, he knew it would be. The Colonel had not been the only person who’d stopped by to inform him of Hugo and Stanley’s activities. He had a pretty good idea of what the Proctor boys were up to.

“What’s up?” Cooper asked as he made his way up to his front porch.

“What do you have cooked out back?” Hugo asked.

“The usual. I’m a little bit busy, though. I’m about to head over to the course,” Cooper said as he unlocked his front door. “Want to come on in, though?”

“Nah, we’ll head on back to the little house and meet you there,” Hugo said.

“Fine. Give me a few minutes,” Cooper said, surprised, but not really. Hugo and Stanley had worked for Senior, and he’d treated them like the help, which had meant they weren’t welcome in the big Cooper mansion—and that must have figured into Hugo and Stanley’s vision of the world order, ’cause they never wanted to come inside of his home.