Games We Play (30 page)

“What happened to your arm?” she asked, pointing to a small bandage that covered a spot on his upper left arm.

“An old tattoo.”

“Can I see it?”

“Nope.”

“Fine, be that way,” she said, punching him with her free hand. “This is good. I like it,” she said, taking another sip.

He put her hand behind her head and pulled her lips to his, slowly licking the foam from her top lip. “I like it too,” he said before taking the glass from her hand so that he could take a sip. He kissed her again, and she scooted closer to him, wanting to touch his skin whenever she could get the chance, feeling like an addict strung out on Coop, the new crack.

It had been an hour now since he’d given her a tour of his home. They’d made love afterwards, stripping down to skin as fast as they could, in some hurry. Then he’d declared it time for her beer lesson to begin. He kept a few varieties in the refrigerator in the kitchen, and she’d watched as he poured three samples and brought them to bed, where they were tasting them.

“What’s next?” she said.

He took the glass and set it down on the floor beside the bed. “Let’s take a break,” he said, and pulled her over to him, kissed her mouth, tasting the remnants of the white on her tongue. He moved his mouth over hers, playing with her tongue, while his hands moved to her breasts. He loved these two almost as much as he loved her ass. He pushed her over onto her back and situated himself between her legs, his hips touching hers, his legs between hers. He didn’t think he would ever get past the wonder he felt over the softness of her skin, the way it felt when it was close to his.

He continued to kiss her, his hands on her breasts, kneading softly, tugging on their tips. She placed her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, preventing him from going anywhere.

No worries, he didn’t want to leave. He used his one knee to push her legs open. He did the same with his other knee, all the while kissing her mouth and playing with her breast.

He moved up a little so that he was positioned at the entrance of her body and flexed his hips down to push himself inward, not much, just an inch or two. They both moaned, mouths moving fiercely over each other now before he left her lips alone for second to take one of her breast into his mouth, then it was back up to her mouth, like he couldn’t make up his mind where he wanted to be. He took one hand, lifted her right leg underneath the knee, and pressed his hips down, pushing completely in with one smooth thrust.

“Kendall,” he part said, part moaned at the pleasure of her holding tightly to that part of him that loved being in her. She twisted her hips, and he whispered her name again.

He moved the leg he held in his hand around his waist, his hand at her ankle now, holding it behind his back as he pushed into her warmth again, luxuriating in the warm feel of her. God, she felt like nothing he’d experienced before.

“Kendall,” he whispered again, twisting his hips around. She moaned, and he withdrew, took a deep breath, and then let himself go, free to do what he wanted, which was to pummel, to ram, to slam into her warmth again and again, so warm, so wet, and he thrust back in, increasing the tempo of his hips, finding his rhythm.

“Oh…God…” he said, at her mouth now, pushing into her again, then again, in and in and in and…

“Oh…Kendall,” he whispered, rotating his hips in a circular motion, one hand at her ankle, the other at her breast, squeezing, tugging, his mouth on hers, his tongue and hand moving in time to the thrust of his hips as he pumped in and in and in. She was taking him as he pushed harder into her, slamming into her, she was welcoming him in, and she was coming, and so was he, and in and in, and then he moaned, grabbed her bottom lip and bit down, and in and in and…

“Damn,” he said as he came, hard, still holding onto her tightly, her leg still pulled behind him, more pressure on it then he’d intended—he hoped he hadn’t hurt her. But…
Damn
, he thought, as he held himself still for a minute, letting the sweetness that was his climax roll through him.

He turned over onto his back a few minutes later, breathing hard now, like he’d run a sprint, his eyes closing. He could hear her breathing alongside him. It was like that all the time with them, since the beginning. He was drawn to her, and he wanted his skin next to hers whenever possible. He smiled again.

She started laughing, ’cause damn he was good.

“You should try this other beer I’ve been working on,” he said, smiling still, and then he started to laugh.

“Not if it leads to more of this,” she said, starting to laugh too.

“Turn over,” he said.

“I will not. You and this fixation on my ass has to end,” she said.

“Turn over. It’s beautiful,” he said, and moved his mouth to her neck, kissing her before he turned her over to lie on her stomach.

“I need rest first,” she said, his mouth against the skin just under her ear.

“You’ll be fine,” he said, and moved over her, covering her body with his.

“I don’t think…” she started to say, but his mouth had covered hers, and it stopped any words she thought to speak. She moaned instead.

Tuesday

H
ank looked around the office belonging to Tom Baker, owner of the cement plant and the largest employer in Coopersville since the closing of the quarry. He’d driven up this morning to discuss the purchase of land owned by Tom. He’d also checked on his wife, drove by her home, saw her getting into her car—heading to the pub, he guessed. He’d been informed of her new employment status by the private investigator he’d hired, and there’d been another surprise. She could work.

He returned his mind to the business at hand—securing the land for his proposal. Tom had taken the liberty of inviting Hugo and Stanley Proctor, the owners of the other piece of real estate he needed, to this meeting. Senior had gifted it to them, payment for services rendered, and they’d earned every bit of it. Hank knew the two brothers well, had grown up with them. Yes, he had plenty memories of these two and of Tom. None of them had been good, but he hadn’t achieved his level of success by being skittish. He and Tom sat around waiting for the Proctor brothers to show.

“So you’ve met with our little Mexican mayor, Juan. He used to be an old buddy of yours, I believe,” Tom said.

“Yes, sir, I did, and he was.”

“Can you believe that? The Mexicans are running things now. What has the world come too? We’ll be like a little Mexico before you know it. Texas back in the hands of Santa Anna,” Tom said, laughing. “What would Senior think about that? I sure do miss him and the old days. What would he think, his son back to running with the Mexicans?” he said, smiling at Hank, not anywhere near sincere. “He didn’t like you either, but for different reasons.”

“Yes, sir. I’m well aware of Senior’s feelings toward me.”

“I guess you were,” he said, laughing, continuing to stare at Hank from his spot at the head of his conference table. “You wanted to be a Cooper so badly. We could all see that,” Tom said, laughing. “It made you an easy mark.…But now you’re here on a different mission?” Tom asked, cigar in his mouth.

“The proposal I’ve offered is in the best interests of the town. You can’t be pleased with the direction Coopersville has taken,” Hank said, ignoring Tom’s question.

“No,” Tom said. “The advent of the minorities, gays, Mexicans, and niggers. There was a time when those people knew where they stood, and they were far from welcome in this town.”

There was a knock on the door, interrupting him mid-tirade.
Thank God
, Hank thought.

In walked Hugo and Stanley, looking just like he’d expected, all old Texas cowboys. Hats perched on weathered faces, faded brown by hours spent in the sun. Those Western-styled shirts, belts with huge-ass buckles, jeans, and, of course, cowboy boots. Their expressions of
don’t mess with me
completed their ensembles.

Tom gave them each a nod, and he and Hank watched as they took seats at the table.

“I heard you were back in town,” Hugo said, his greeting as he settled into a chair across the table from Hank. Stanley took a seat beside his lifelong buddy, his brother, his partner in crime, whatever your descriptive preference.

“I am,” Hank said, looking between the two men.

“In town to fuck with the Coop is what I hear,” Stanley said, chuckling as he removed his cowboy hat and placed it on the table. “I remember when you would have sold your soul to be a Cooper.”

“Ancient history,” Hank said.

Tom’s eyes skipped over to Hank’s. “So what do you need from me…us?” he asked, cutting through the chatter.

Hank handed two copies of the proposal over to Hugo and Stanley. He’d already given one to Tom. “I want to purchase your land, along with Tom’s here. I need them in order for this deal to work.”

“What deal to work?” Hugo said, grim-faced. Hugo was the smarts of the Proctor-brothers operation and the meaner of the two. Stanley was more volatile, more of a lapdog. Senior’s lapdog that took pride in doing whatever needed doing. In the old days that meant finding men for their late Friday night gatherings at the golf course.

“Sticking it to the Coopers,” Hank said.

“We used to work for the Coopers, the ones you want to
stick it to
. So why should we sell our land to you?” Hugo asked.

“Yeah, from what I remember, you and Coop were friends, a gang of four—you, Junior, and those two little Mexican Hinojosa boys. Can you believe one of them is the mayor of this town?” Stanley said.

“This is no longer the town you lived in. The town you and Coopers One and Two worked so hard to maintain. The town you want to take back and run again. Work with me and you can have it back,” Hank said, glancing between the two brothers. “I know you need the money. You two are in debt up to your eyeballs. About to lose the family farm.”

“You think that’s enough for us to turn our backs on the Coopers?” Hugo asked.

“I do,” Hank said, studying Hugo. He was the same calm, unflappable, difficult-to-read asshole he’d always been. He had to be, Hank guessed; his brother’s wild and excitable nature couldn’t be too easy to live with.

It was quiet for a good five minutes as the men stared at Hank.

“So, are you willing to sell me your land?” Hank asked, interrupting the staredown they had working. He wasn’t a boy to be intimidated any longer.

“Maybe,” Tom said.

“You have reservations about my ability to pull this off?” Hank said, directing this question to Tom.

“I do,” Tom said, eyeing Hank like he was the king and Hank the lowly servant.

Hank had seen that look a hundred times growing up, and some things never changed. The town drunk’s kid he would always be.

“Barnabus Lee Cooper is different from his daddy and his granddaddy before him, but in one way his nature is the same. They all share the same stubborn streak, so, no, I’m not so sure.” Tom added.

“He’ll give in. I grew up here. I know what he wants to forget…everything he wants to forget,” Hank said.

Tom smiled, puffing on his cigar again, secretly pleased with what he was hearing. “I can’t believe how you’ve turned out. Ready to make your old friend’s life hell. With friends like you?” Tom smiled, secretly pleased by the lengths Hank appeared willing to travel in order to see this thing through.

Hugo and Stanley laughed, overjoyed to have an opportunity to go back to the old days when they’d held so much more power in this town. “We could help you,” Stanley said, smiling at Hank. “We’re old hands at this, right, Hugo?”

“I remember,” Hank said.

“We’d love to help—hell, it would be just like old times, right, Hugo?” Stanley said, excited just that quick.

No such thing as growing older and wiser for the Proctor brothers
, Hank thought.

“It can’t be quite like old times. You have to be subtler. Things have to be more PC these days,” Tom said, laughing. “Isn’t that right, Hank? Can’t go busting heads, beating, and stringing up anymore. We’re not Jasper in 1986. We have to do things differently now.”

“I’d have to agree with Tom. There are other ways to get your message out,” Hank said, speaking to the Proctor brothers, looking between the two of them. “I won’t tolerate any violence. I don’t want to hurt Cooper physically. His reputation is what I’m after. All we need to do is to make the new town members aware of just who Cooper really is. It should be enough to make public his past. I want to discredit him, turn the new folks against him, turn him into the town pariah, a man who’s willing to sell the golf course to me.”

“So this is nothing more than a business deal to you?” Hugo asked.

“It is, but that’s not all it is,” Hank said.

“So that’s it? That’s supposed to be enough explanation for us?” Hugo asked.

“It is,” Hank said.

It was quiet for a few minutes as his words settled in.

“So then, are we all in agreement, gentlemen?” Hank asked.

“Spreading rumors is all you want us to do?” Stanley asked.

“Yes.”

“I don’t think that will be enough. I think you should leave the particulars up to Hugo and me. This is what we know,” Stanley said.

“My brother is right,” Hugo said, leaning forward in his chair. “We can handle the details. It’s just him and that old black woman.” He smiled. “Besides, what you don’t know won’t hurt you.”

“No,” Hank said, shaking his head, hard eyes staring back at the brothers now. “We either do it my way, no violence, or I’ll walk, and the changes to the town will resume
and
you two will lose your home to foreclosure.”

Hank scanned all three men’s faces for resistance. “Are we all in agreement?” he asked again.

“I am,” Tom said, looking at the brothers.

“We are,” Hugo said.

“Fine,” Stanley said, resigned but not at all pleased with his truncated duties. “When do we start?”

“Today,” Hank said, standing up.

Wednesday

Cooper parked outside of Myra’s, here for his weekly Wednesday night TV date. He was surprised to see the Colonel’s car, Luis’s truck, and Juan’s new little Mercedes parked out in front. He stepped onto the porch, where he could see Kendall behind the screen door. She must have been waiting for him, and he was oddly pleased by that thought. They hadn’t gotten together since Monday, and that would have to change and soon, like tonight.