Bobby was a hell of a weirdo,but he was a good-natured, neighborly one. He stopped by at the end of my shift to give me a lift over to Sunny Fields in Brodnax and even managed to get my truck started again. I drove home and would have parked in the driveway except Harlan was standing there like an old scarecrow, glaring at me like he’d been waiting for hours.
I parked in the street and climbed out of the truck. “Is there a problem, Mr. Whittaker?”
He glared at me, arms folded. “I’ll say there’s a problem. Which one of you boys has been blasting music all day? A man can’t even take a nap listening to that noise!”
I tilted my head and listened, but the house was silent. “I don’t think anyone’s been home all day,” I said. “We all have jobs.”
Our schedules were sometimes all over the place, but I knew Cash was at Sunny Fields today and Chase had been at Goose Run Gas. Which only left Wilder, and his schedule was the most regular during the week. And it was clear from the empty driveway that I was the first one home.
“Bah!”
I backed toward the house. “It wasn’t us. Maybe it was the Greers on the other side of you.”
I doubted that too and silently apologized to the Greers in case Harlan gave them shit. But I highly doubted there’d been any noise at all. Harlan was just being an asshole. First the state of the yard, then the tree, and now this. Maybe he thought if he threw enough shit our way, some of it would stick.
I escaped inside before he could yell at me some more and wondered if that was the sort of thing I should mention to Milleror to the cops. Like, I didn’t want to start anything, but also, Harlan hadalreadystarted something, right? Fucked if I knew.
I was so wired that before I even knew what I was doing, I’d cleaned half the fucking bathroom. I hoped the other guys didn’t notice because if I’d started it, that was as good as volunteering to do the whole thing.
I thought about Miller’s nice clean apartment, and I had to admit it had been a pleasant change not to stick to the floor when I’d walked across his kitchen. Maybe we could start cleaning up more and make the place nicer.
Not the front yard, though, because fuck Harlan and his judgment.
On impulse I pulled out my phone and texted Miller.
Does it affect the case if Harlan is accusing us of shit we didn’t do?
The reply came back almost immediately.
It depends.
Thanks. Super helpful. Can see why you went to law school.
My phone buzzed with an incoming call and I almost dropped it in surprise. Whocalledpeople? “Hey, Miller.”
“Hey. What’s happened?”
“I got home, and Harlan’s making up bullshit about us playing loud music all day when none of us have been home.”
“Okay,” Miller said. “What I want you to do is call the police and make sure they log the call. They might send someone out and they might not, but you should ask for a reference number either way. It’ll show a pattern of Harlan harassing you guys.”
That sounded like something I really didn’t want to do, and it was lucky Miller couldn’t see the face I was pulling.
“If he escalates or, hell, if he just continues with his bullshit, we can look into getting you a peace bond or even a restraining order that keeps him off your property.”
“Shit.”
“It’s nothing you need to worry about for now,” Miller assured me, and I got a sudden flashback to last night when he’d talked in that same calm, measured tone, asking me exactly how much I could take. “But it’s good to get all our ducks in a row in case we need them later.”
Was bossy lawyer kink a thing? Because if it was, I had it. I’d approachhisbench any time.
Wait, that was a judge.
Still, I’d examine his briefs if he asked me. I actually lost a little pocket of time thinking about how fine Miller’s ass looked in those boxer briefs of his.
“Danny? Are you still there?”
I realized I’d been silent for too long. “Yeah. Sorry.”
