her husband really named Block?"
"Unfortunately," Cal confirmed.
At the counter, Shelley ignored the coffee, but she listened.
"It'd be better if you didn't badmouth Block in public. Say whatever you want about him to me, okay? But it's not good for you to go off on him, especially the size of his dick, in public."
"He doesn't really have a little pickle dick," Shelley muttered. "But he should. He shouldn't have any dick at all."
"I know. Are you here by yourself?"
"No." She sighed now. "I came with my girlfriends. We're in the arcade. We're having a Fuck Men night. In the bad way."
"That's fine. You're not driving, are you, Shelley?"
"No, we walked from Arlene's. We're going back there after. She's pissed at her boyfriend."
"If you're ready to go while I'm still here, and you want someone to drive you, or walk you, come and get me."
"You're the sweetest damn thing in the whole world."
"Do you want to go back to the arcade?"
"Yeah. We're going home soon anyway to make apple martinis and watch Thelma and Louise."
"Sounds great." He took her arm, steered her clear of Gage and the table, and walked her to the arcade.
Deciding he'd earned another beer, he swung back by the counter, ordered one on Gage's tab.
"So, you're sticking it to Shelley in more ways than one."
Fox didn't turn at Napper's voice. "Slow night for crime, Deputy Take-a-Nap?"
"People with real jobs take nights off. What's your excuse?"
"I like watching people without balls throw them."
"I wonder what'll happen to yours when Block finds out you're doing his wife."
"Here you go, Fox." Behind the counter, Holly set down Fox's drink, gave him a quick, understanding look. She'd worked the counter for enough years to know when trouble was brewing. "Get you something, Deputy?"
"Pitcher of Bud. I bet Block's going to kick your pansy ass into next week."
"You're going to want to stay out of that." Fox turned now, faced Napper. "Block and Shelley have enough problems without you screwing with them."
"You telling me what to do?" He jabbed a finger into Fox's chest, bared his teeth in a fierce "dare you" grin.
"I'm telling you Block and Shelley are going through a tough time and don't need you making it worse because you want to fuck with me." Fox picked up his beer. "You need to move."
"I don't need to do a goddamn thing. It's my night off."
"Yeah? Mine, too." Fox, who'd never been able to walk away from a dare, tipped the beer down Napper's shirt. "Oops. Butterfingers."
"You stupid fuck." He shoved, and the force of it would've knocked Fox on his ass, if he hadn't anticipated it.
He danced lightly to the side, so that Napper's forward motion sent the deputy careening into one of the counter stools. When he righted himself, spun to retaliate, he wasn't just facing Fox, but Gage and Cal as well.
"That's a damn shame," Gage drawled. "All that beer wasted. Looks good on you though, Napper."
"We run your kind out of town these days, Turner."
Gage spread his arms in invitation. "Run me."
"None of us are looking for trouble here, Derrick." Cal took a step forward, his eyes hard on Napper's. "This is a family place. Lots of kids in here. Lots of witnesses. I'll take you over to our gift shop, get you a new shirt. No charge."
"I don't want a damn thing from you." He sneered at Fox. "Your friends won't always be around to protect you, O'Dell."
"You keep forgetting the rules." Now Gage stepped forward, effectively blocking Fox before his friend rose to the bait. "You mess with one of us, you mess with all of us. But Cal and I? We'll be happy to hold Fox's coat while he kicks the shit out of you. Wouldn't be the first time."
"Times change." Napper shoved his way past them.
"Not so much," Gage murmured. "He's as big a dick as ever."
"Told you." With apparent ease, Fox stepped back up to the counter. "I'm going to need another beer, Holly."
When he walked back to the table, Quinn gave him a sunny smile. "Dinner and a show. This place has it all."
"That show's been running about twenty-five years."
"He hates you," Layla said quietly. "He doesn't even know why."
"There doesn't have to be a why for some people." Fox laid a hand over hers. "Forget him. How about a round of pinball-any machine. And you get a thousand-point handicap."
"I think that may be an insult, but... Don't! Don't drink that. God. Look."
The beer glass in Fox's hand foamed with blood.