The New Mexico Scoundrel

by R Scott Wallis

“Not everyone, Sully,” his brother exploded. “Darby’s track record fucking sucks, excuse my language. But we shall see. It’s Christmas. I’m willing to give him another chance. Jesus would want it that way.”

  Leonard walked into the kitchen and leaned up against the counter. “What are you guys talking about?”

  “Nothing important,” Carter said. “Say, how are you enjoying Santa Fe, so far?”

  The cop shrugged his shoulders. “All I’ve seen is the airport, Georgia’s house, and your house. And a lot of trees and mountains. What I can tell you is that I am dry as all get out.”

  “Yeah, the high desert will do that to you,” Sullivan said. “It took us a few weeks to get used to it when we first got here. It’s cocktail hour now, but I suggest having a glass of water with each drink you put away. You’ll thank me tomorrow.”

  “Will do,” Leonard said. “But I think I’ll start with a beer.”

  “Coming right up.” Carter fished a holiday pale ale from the under-counter beer fridge and handed it to Leonard.

  “Thanks. So, I was thinking, I’d like to go with whoever is going to pick up Georgia on Sunday. Since you don’t know what you might encounter, it would be good to have someone with a little bit of law enforcement experience along for the ride.”

  “I think that’s a great idea,” Sullivan said. “Carter just arranged for a King Air to take us. We’re going at first light Christmas Eve morning. We should be back here at the house in time for a late lunch.”

  Leonard crinkled his brow. “You’re going in an airplane?”

  “It’s a 400-mile drive from here, man,” Carter said. “Even at 75 miles an hour, the roundtrip would take the whole damned day. We can get there in just over an hour in the King Air. It’s a twin turboprop. You’ll like it. Pressurized cabin, eight seats, has a lavatory on board, and she has a ceiling of 35,000 feet.”

  “Is that good?”

  “For a prop? I think so,” Carter said. “Ask your girlfriend about it. She’s the plane nut.”

  “And I am not,” Leonard said sheepishly. “But I still think I should go. It’ll be good practice.”

  Sullivan looked confused. “Practice?”

  “I’m toying with the idea of establishing a celebrity protection service. I know a few famous folks now and I’m just not cut out to be a small-town cop, that’s for sure. I think it’ll be fun.”

  “Fun is not the first thing I think of when I think of protecting celebrities,” Skyler said when she appeared in the kitchen. She hugged Leonard from behind and kissed him delicately on an ear. “Honey, it’s a lot of standing around and waiting. It’s not at all glamourous.”

  “More glamourous than assigning deputies to go kick teenagers off of lobster boats in the middle of the night.”

  “What are teenagers doing on lobster boats in the middle of the night?” Carter asked.

  “Drinking and screwing, usually,” Leonard said. “What else are they supposed to do in Wabanaki, Maine in the dead of winter?”

  “That doesn’t sound very comfortable,” Sullivan said.

  “It’s not,” Skyler said.

  Leonard turned to his girlfriend. “How do you know that?”

  “I was a teenager in Wabanaki, Maine, remember?”

  “Mmm,” he said. “I guess I do.”

  Brenda marched into the kitchen and broke up the party. “I need all of you to move it to the living room. I’ve got to start cooking if we want to eat tonight.”

  And the celebrity chef didn’t disappoint. After a few hours, the whole crew settled around the large round dining table and enjoyed a gourmet meal that would have cost several hundred dollars per head in one of her restaurants. They were first presented with her new signature Lobster Alla Chitarra, an appetizer portion of butter-poached lobster claw over thin pasta noodles with charred eggplant, zucchini, and parmesan—if it were to be served as an entrée, Brenda warned, “…it would kill you with richness.” She followed that with an espresso cup filled with chilled pea soup paired with a toasted garlic bread crostini on the saucer. Next, the roasted veal tenderloin with truffle whipped mashed potatoes and cauliflower left everyone raving. And, as a sweet finale, Brenda produced chocolate-hazelnut mousse piped into champagne flutes. She dropped a spoonful of homemade whipped cream and a single red raspberry on top of each.

  The chef sat down for the first time and savored the dessert.

  “You did all of this on your own without a sous chef or any assistance at all,” Carter said. “So, why do we have to hire so many people for the hotel restaurant?”

  “Please,” Brenda said with a mouthful of mousse. “As much as I adore Santa Fe, darling, I am not going to be head chef of that kitchen. I’ll get it started, I’ll create the menus, and then I’ll move on. Do you think Gordon Ramsey cooks every dish in every one of his hundreds of restaurants?”

  “He was kidding,” Sullivan said with a smile. “I am astounded by it all, Brenda. It’s just so very impressive. And if we put your restaurants in all of our hotels nationwide, I am going to have one fat ass.”

  The chef wrinkled her brow and Sullivan felt bad for insulting her.

  Brenda recovered quickly. She put down her spoon and raised a glass. “Since I am finally sitting on my fat ass and have a chance to breathe…” She turned to Leonard and whispered, “…by the way, you’re cleaning that kitchen…” She glanced at the rest of the table, “…I want to propose a toast. To Georgia being found safe and sound; to a happy, uneventful Christmas; and, to a happy, prosperous new year for each and every one of us.”

  They all clinked glasses. Even Darby, who seemed to be watching his alcohol intake very carefully. “Hear, hear,” he said. “And I want to propose a toast of my own.” He pushed back his chair and got to his feet. “To my two big brothers. Thank you for believing in the brand new me. I won’t let you down. Again. You’re all the family I have in the world and I treasure you both. Merry Christmas.”

  “Merry Christmas,” the assembled said in unison.

  “I hope you mean that, buddy boy,” Carter said after he took a sip. He looked at the younger Lowrey and noticed, for the slightest of a second, that familiar devilish look he knew so well. The one of contempt and foolhardiness and greed and laziness. It was there and then it was gone. Darby forced a smile and raised his glass again.

  “I will not let you down, Sully.”

  Sullivan closed his eyes. Skyler stopped breathing for a few seconds; she’d just met them but even she knew which Lowery twin was which.

  Carter cocked his head. “My name is Carter. But I’m letting it slide this time, baby brother, because, admittedly, we haven’t spent much quality time together lately. I hope that will change and you’ll be able to tell your brothers apart tout de suite.”

  Darby was doing his best to mask his embarrassment, and a tinge of resentment, with a forced smile. It was all there, right below the surface though. Carter saw it. “Time will tell,” Darby said quietly.

  “Well,” Skyler said, “I think we should all pitch in and clear this table and clean the kitchen and I bet we’ll have it done in 10 minutes.” She turned to Brenda. “I think it was a great idea for you to suggest that Leonard take on kitchen duty, but trust me, you do not want that man washing a single dish or glass. I have seen firsthand his handiwork and it is not pretty.”

  “I am not inept,” Leonard said.

  “Honey. The last time you cleaned up after dinner, I had to re-wash nearly every single thing in the cabinets.” She turned to the others. “He emptied an entire dishwasher full of stuff, but it was all dirty. I hadn’t run it yet.”

  Leonard stood up causing his chair to topple over and hit the stone floor, making quite a racket. “I didn’t risk life and limb to fly across the country to spend Christmas with you just so you could embarrass me in front of all of these people.” He turned to Sullivan. “I’m sorry about the chair. I’ll pay for it if it’s broken.”

  “Honey,” Skyler said carefully. “
I was just kidding. Nobody cares about…”

  “But that actually happened.”

  “Yeah. And I’m sorry.”

  “Whatever.” And he stormed out of the room.

  “Geez,” Darby said. “He sounds like the old me.”

  “Drink your wine and shut up,” Carter said.

  “I think I better go talk to him.” Skyler topped off her wine glass and followed Leonard outside onto the covered patio.

  It was lightly snowing, and for the first time since they’d all arrived in town, there wasn’t a bit of wind. It was cold, but still and silent. Leonard took a pack of cigarettes out of one pocket and fished a lighter from another.

  “Before you say anything,” he said, “I am going to have this one cig and that’s it for today. I have been very good and I think having one a day, while I try to quit for good, is me doing pretty damned good.”

  “I think so, too,” Skyler said softly. She sidled up close to his body for warmth and before he could put the pack away, she snatched it out of his hand and took a cigarette out of the box. She put it to her lips and waited for it to be lit. “Come on.”

  “No. What? What are you doing?”

  “You can have one, I can have one. After a big fat meal like that, I bet it’s going to be so good.”

  “You don’t smoke.”

  “I have. And I can. I can if I want to. There was a three-month period in college when I smoked every day with some girlfriends I was trying to impress. I gave it up for a boy and never looked back, but I think it’s like riding a bike, right?”

  “I guess so,” he said, producing a flame and igniting the end of her cigarette. Then he lit his own and took a long drag. “Oh, that’s good.”

  Skyler took a baby drag and didn’t inhale at first. She worked her way up to pulling the smoke into her lungs. Then she exploded in a fit of couching and nearly threw up her dinner all over the patio. She handed the cigarette back to Leonard and then finally managed, “I think maybe I won’t be smoking ever again.”

  “Good idea.” He put an arm around her back and pulled her close. “I don’t want a girlfriend who smokes, anyway. I love you, you know? I’m sorry if I acted like a child in there. Do you think they all hate me now?”

  “Are you kidding me? No one hates you. And Carter and Sullivan are as eccentric and crazy as the rest of us. And from what I hear about Darby, well, he’s got some demons, too.”

  “I don’t have demons.”

  “I didn’t say you did.”

  “You said, too.”

  “Well, we all have demons. In any event, it’s fine. And I’m sorry that I told tales out of school. I didn’t mean to embarrass you. I just thought it was an amusing story. It was funny, Leonard.”

  “Alright,” he said, stubbing out his cigarette. He then started smoking hers. “I’ll forgive you.”

  “Good. And I will let you have your way with me tonight if you promise to brush your teeth three times before bed.”

  “I have to say, that is a very strange requirement,” a voice said from behind them. Skyler and Leonard spun around to find Darby standing on the patio holding a glass of wine and an unlit cigar. “I’m sorry if I’m butting in. I thought you heard me come out.”

  “Jesus, Darby,” Skyler said, “we were just fooling around.”

  “Apparently there won’t be any fooling around unless the cop brushes his teeth three times.” Darby grinned like a crazed Batman villain, then lit his cigar with a long neck fireplace lighter he found on the mantel inside the house. “I’m kidding, of course.”

  “Of course,” Leonard said dryly. “If you’ll excuse us, I think we’re going to go inside and help clean up that kitchen.”

  “I hear you’re not very good at that, but go for it, man.”

  ​Skyler gave the young man a weak smile as they passed him to enter the house. When the door was shut behind them, she turned to Leonard. “That one is starting to show his true colors.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t like the kid the minute I met him.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  On Saturday morning, after a late-night hour of aerobic love making and a well-earned good night’s sleep, Skyler stole into the kitchen wearing one of the rental houses’ plush bathrobes. The twins liked to keep the place at a lower temperature than she was used to in the wintertime, so she also had on the thick socks that she’d pulled on after the post-coitus shower. The house was dead quiet except for the instantly recognizable tapping of a laptop keyboard. She discovered young Darby sitting on one of the Great Room sofas with a Mac on his lap. He suffered from severe bedhead, he was wearing eye glasses that she hadn’t seen him wear before, and he had nothing on his body save for a baggy pair of well-worn red plaid boxer shorts.

  “Good morning,” she said. “Did you start the coffee by any chance?”

  He continued to type, ignoring her.

  “That’s okay. I’ll do it.”

  “Sorry,” Darby finally said. He abruptly closed the laptop and placed it on the coffee table in front of him. “I’m drinking tea. I’m off coffee for the time being. But there’s one of those pod contraptions by the bar. There seems to be a whole assortment of different things to choose from over there.”

  “Thank you.” Skyler made her way to the bar. “How’d you sleep?”

  Darby got up and walked toward her, one hand flattening his hair and the other finding its way into the front of his shorts. “Apparently, I’m the lowest dude on the totem pole. My brothers each have a room, Brenda has one, and Leonard and you have the fourth. I’m in the stupid loft upstairs. It has a pullout soda bed with a shitty mattress and the room has no door. I felt very vulnerable up there and I’m pretty sure I slept on an exposed spring all night.”

  “My goodness, Darby. I’m so sorry. Maybe the twins’ll move people around to make it fairer tonight.”

  “Maybe a house full of millionaires could afford better accommodations. I mean, my brothers are supposed to be experts at hospitality, for God’s sake.”

  Skyler shrugged her shoulders and tried not to look at the kid’s midsection. She made the mistake of glancing in that direction and it looked like he was either extremely hung or inappropriately excited to see her. “Can I make you some more tea?”

  “Naw,” he said, “I’m all teaed out. I’ve been up since half past five. I’m working on a novel and I’m at my best first thing in the morning, before all the chaos of the world gets going.”

  “That’s pretty exciting. Is this your first book?”

  “Third, actually. I self-published the first two, mostly because they were total pieces of crap that no publisher wanted to buy, but I’m feeling much better about this new one. It’s more mainstream, too.”

  “Commercial or literary?”

  “Commercial,” Darby said as he slumped into a dining room chair and spread his legs wide. “It’s a thriller with lots of chases, guns, murders and…some hot sex.”

  Skyler took a sip of her coffee. “Good. Sex sells.”

  “You’ve represented some authors. Can you help me?”

  “After it’s published, maybe. I don’t really have literary agent or publishing contacts. I do P.R. after the fact for a few clients. But most of them were already famous when they came out with a book. It’s easier that way.”

  “No shit,” he said through a heavy sigh.

  He was absently fondling himself and it was unnerving Skyler. “I’m going to take this coffee back to my room and get ready for the day. I still have a bunch of things to do to get ready for Christmas.”

  “Are we doing all of that?” he asked with disgust. “I hate Christmas.”

  “I thought you came to Santa Fe to be with your brothers for the holidays. How can you hate Christmas?”

  “It wasn’t always that way. I used to love it when my parents were still with us. Man, our mother used to go all out. She won decorating contests. The newspaper would take photos of our house and they even published one of her Christmas
cookie recipes one year. I’m telling you, it would take her a full half hour to wrap one present because she was so meticulous. The woman had several themed trees. She really got into the spirit, which was funny, because she wasn’t really all that religious or anything.”

  “Sounds a little bit like me,” Skyler said. “So, what happened? Couldn’t you carry that tradition on in her absence?”

  “Me?” Darby asked. “No. It’s just not the same. It’s just us three boys now and Carter and Sully don’t really give a crap. My present from them last year was that laptop and it wasn’t even wrapped. Christmas is something for other people now. Families with kids and stuff. And stores. The stores love it.”

  “What did you give your brothers last year?” she asked as she narrowed her eyes.

  “Nothing. They’re worth millions.”

  “It’s not about the value, is it? It’s the sentiment. The thought behind it. Surely you learned that from your mother.”

  Darby was growing agitated. “You’re acting like her right now. I don’t need another mother, lady.”

  “I’m not nearly old enough to be your mother,” Skyler said as she padded off to the back hall. “I’d kill myself first,” she added, under her breath.

  “Dude, you need to put some clothes on.” Sullivan had appeared in the kitchen, already dressed for the day in jeans and a cable knit sweater. “Do you realize that your dick is hanging out of your boxers? Come on! Skyler or Brenda could come out here at any moment.”

  “Like they haven’t seen massive dicks before.” Darby shoved his penis back into place and got himself off the couch. “What bathroom am I supposed to use? The one out here is just a half.”

  “Go take a shower in mine. There are tons of fresh towels on the shelf in there.”

  “Cool.”

  “What happened to that nice kid I picked up yesterday? The one who supposedly turned it all around? The one who charmed the pants off the ladies last night?”

  Darby walked past his brother toward the bedrooms. “That nice kid checked out when he found out he had to sleep on a sofa bed when he could have checked in to the Four Seasons.”