Shame the Devil (Portland Devils Book 3)

by Rosalind James

  Linc took off again, and Jennifer said, “So you’re saying I might not see the end of the game.”

  “Do you want to see the end of the game?”

  “Can I tell you a secret?”

  “I kinda thought you already did. Except that if you’ve lived in that town all your life, I guess it wasn’t much of a secret.”

  “No, it wasn’t. Here’s the real secret. I’m not much of a football fan. Don’t tell Blake.”

  He gave a shout of laughter, then sobered and said, “Oh. It’s because of what happened. With … whoever.”

  “Who, Danny? Maybe. Mostly, I just don’t care. Everybody gets so passionate, and I think—hey, I’m not the one playing, so why should I care? They’re not watching me do my thing and cheering about it, so why should I give them my Sunday?”

  “So what do you watch?” he asked. “Or what do you play?”

  She laughed. “How about nothing? Well, I like to swim. I like that a lot, even though I can only do it in the summer. I like to hike some, as long as it’s not some death march carrying an enormous backpack. Call it ‘strolling in the woods,’ maybe. I like going out on the lake on a boat, even if it’s a kayak and I actually have to work for it. Not that I get to do it much. I used to think I enjoyed catching a glimpse of wildlife. I’m rethinking that part.”

  She looked out the car window at a whole lot of nothing. Snow-covered land flat as a pancake, a divided road with nobody on it, and a few low buildings looking lonely and bleak against a gray sky. A Jack in the Box, an Arby’s. “But if I’m going to spend my time watching something,” she went on after a minute, “I want to watch a movie, with a story about people. Or maybe a play. I think. Plays always sound fun.”

  “You’ve never seen a play?”

  “No, but it seems like there’d be … I don’t know, energy in the room. Musicals, especially.”

  “How have you never seen a play? I was always having to go to some play. High school. College. Now, for that matter. Some girlfriend, dragging me along.”

  She turned her head and looked at him. She was trying not to laugh, he could tell. “You’re going to ruin your sensitive image.”

  “I don’t have a sensitive image.”

  “You do with me. Well, you did.”

  “Oh.” He digested that. “Ah. I get it. High school. Baby. Et cetera.”

  “Bingo. Let’s just say that extracurricular activities did not loom large in my life. And that I didn’t go to football games.”

  “You’re right,” he decided. “I’m not sensitive. I just now figured that out.” She laughed, so that was better. “And we’re here.”

  “Wait, already?” She leaned forward to look out better. At what? At a plowed parking lot lined with berms of dirty snow and filled with cars and bundled-up figures in parkas. “It’s freezing out here,” she said. “Are they seriously going to stand around for an hour?”

  “It’s North Dakota. It’s required.”

  “Are you ready for this?”

  “No,” he said. “But I’m doing it anyway.”

  She thought for a second about Harlan being nice to the driver, and whether he’d been making a point for her benefit, and then abandoned it. First, she’d swear he wasn’t that calculating, and second, she didn’t have mental space to contemplate more than the fact that they were here.

  Harlan told the driver, “Keep going. Up to the front.” And he did. Slowly. Heads were turning, people moving towards them, then moving faster. They were making an entrance, then. She’d seen Blake part the crowd plenty of times. Some men just had that star quality.

  She’d just never imagined herself making an entrance with one of them.

  Harlan told her, “Be sure to zip up your coat, and put on your hat and gloves, OK? It’s going to be cold.”

  “Did you call ahead?” she asked.

  “Yeah. Called the mayor.”

  The SUV stopped and Harlan opened the door. She asked him, fast, “Did you call your dad?”

  “No. Hang on. I’ll come get your door.”

  She stepped out into a wind that cut like a knife, thought, I’m the shield. I can do that, put a smile on her face, and told Dyma, who’d hopped out behind her, “Behave.”

  “What, as opposed to telling everybody how boring football is?”

  “Oh, no,” Harlan said. “Not another one.”

  “You don’t think it’s boring,” Jennifer said. “You watch with Grandpa.”

  “That’s right,” Dyma said. “So maybe I’m not the one who needs to behave.”

  Owen smiled. Harlan laughed, then told Jennifer, “I’m going to hold your hand. That OK with you?”

  “Yes,” she said. “Camouflage?”

  “Nope,” he said, then told the heavyset guy who came hustling up in the kind of woolly hat with earflaps that you hadn’t thought actually existed in real life, “Hey, Mayor. How’ve you been? Jennifer, this is Frank Goodrich, who’s been mayor here about since I can remember. This is my friend Jennifer and her daughter Dyma, and our driver, Linc. You might recognize the fat boy back here, too. Owen Johnson. Well, you might recognize him. He just pointed out to me that people mainly recognize his butt.”

  “Sure I do,” the man said, pumping Harlan’s hand, then Owen’s and, finally, Linc’s. “Glad to have both of you. All of you. Owen, our linemen are going to be tickled pink. Course, it’d be even better if we were watching you up on the screen today, but you can’t win ‘em all, I guess. Come on, now. We’ve got a load of people looking to say hi. Let me take you over here, first off. Billy Olsen from the Ford dealership is still our biggest sponsor, so be extra nice, OK? You know the drill for that. There’s some bratwurst I want to introduce to you, though, because Ivor Swenson’s outdone himself this year. You all want a beer?”

  “No, thanks,” Harlan said. “Got to keep my wits about me.”

  More introductions to ruddy-faced people in heavy coats, men and women and kids alike, and portable grills sizzling with just about every cut of meat you could imagine and some you wouldn’t have. Spicy chicken wings and steak and elk sausage, and a serious excess of bratwurst. Jennifer found herself accepting a bratwurst stuffed into a bun with homemade sauerkraut, because the meat was hot and you didn’t have to take off your gloves to eat it. Bratwurst and polar levels of cold seemed to be the main attractions of this event. Fifteen minutes of being introduced, of Harlan shaking hands and being charming, and then he got swept up by a group of boys who were surely the football team and she lost him in the crowd.

  “How are you doing?” she asked Dyma, because Owen had been swept up right along with Harlan. She could see him over the heads of the others, and Harlan a little ways away, both of them shaking hands, laughing, and talking as if freezing to death in a North Dakota parking lot was the way they’d most wanted to spend this day.

  “Are you asking exactly how cold I am,” Dyma said, “or whether I’m traumatized from that conversation?”

  “Well, both, I guess,” Jennifer said.

  “The jet was extremely cool,” Dyma said, “but I can’t feel my face, I’m wishing for some of those foot warmer packs, and I don’t think North Dakota has registered the concept of vegetarianism. Also, their version of celebrity is a little lame. I thought Wild Horse was bad. But it’s nice of Harlan to do it, I guess.”

  “So that’s happening?” Jennifer asked. “The vegetarian thing?”

  “Yeah. I’m doing it. I’m not listening to any arguments about protein or whatever, so don’t even try. All kinds of people live perfectly healthy lives on plant-based diets. How many Hindus are there in the world?”

  “I don’t know,” Jennifer said. “How many?”

  “Lots, that’s how many. Plus, do you realize how many gallons of water it takes to produce a pound of beef? Eighteen hundred. Soybeans only take about two hundred gallons, and tofu tastes just as good as hamburger and is way less gross.”

  Not to me, Jennifer thought, but aloud, she just said, “I h
ave to say, you’re probably the only woman in the world who meets an obscenely rich, celebrity cattle rancher and instantly makes the decision to base her life around tofu.”

  “That’s because I don’t compromise my principles for men. Even though, yeah, he’s seriously hot, and sorry, Mom, but I don’t think he thinks the idea of a romance between us is out of the question. I hate to tell you, but he kissed me. Well, I kissed him, but then he kissed me. It was great.”

  “So you’re saying you don’t actually hate to tell me.”

  “Nope,” Dyma said. “I’ve been wanting to tell somebody, and you’re the only one here.” Which made Jennifer laugh.

  “Well, I guess …” she said, “be careful.”

  “More careful than you, you mean.”

  The laughter died, and Jennifer tried to think of something to say and couldn’t.

  Dyma sighed and said, “I didn’t mean than you before. Just—I think Harlan really likes you. Owen didn’t invite me to come meet his whole home town. And, yeah, that was all very …” She paused. “I don’t know. Intense. Horrible. I’m glad you told me, I guess, even though I kind of wish I didn’t know.”

  Welcome to adulthood, Jennifer thought. Aloud, she said, “Do you really?”

  Dyma sighed again. “Maybe. I guess not. I don’t know. It’s weird to know for sure that your father was a rapist. And don’t say he wasn’t, because that’s what he went to prison for. And he’s part of me, whether I like it or not.”

  “Hey.” Harlan emerged from the group of boys with Owen behind him. “Thought you were sticking with me. How come you don’t have anything to eat, Dyma?”

  “Vegetarian, remember?” she said, rallying fast, as always.

  Harlan glanced at Owen. “What’s the tailgate alternative to meat?”

  “Not sure,” he said. “Not something that’s come up in my life. Now, turducken’s come up. Deboned chicken stuck into a deboned duck stuck into a deboned turkey,” he told Dyma, “with sausage dressing stuck into the chicken first, of course.”

  Dyma made a face, and Owen grinned and said, “Bacon-wrapped Oreos have come up, too. Surprisingly delicious.”

  “But then,” Dyma said, “you probably eat bull testicles.”

  “Aw, now you’re just hurting my feelings,” Owen said. “Rocky Mountain oysters? That’s good eating. Fresh off the animal, breaded and fried? Fine Wyoming tradition. Also, they’re calf testicles. Bull testicles would be way too tough. And why should they go to waste? Got to use every part of the animal if you’re looking for sustainability, and you’re cutting them off anyway.”

  Jennifer said, “Stop. Please. I’m eating sausage here.”

  “See?” Dyma said. “Meat’s gross if you think about it for even a second. I’m just pointing it out so you have to think about it.”

  “Well, stop pointing it out,” Jennifer said. “I don’t like vegetables enough to become a vegetarian. I prefer to think about Styrofoam trays and plastic wrap.”

  “Hang on,” Harlan said. He was grinning, looking more genuinely relaxed than he had since they’d got here. “I’ll see what I can do about your predicament, Dyma.”

  He’d just turned away to do—whatever it was—when a man approached in a hurry, with a girl right behind him. He was tall and broad-shouldered, a little puffy around the face, and too intense. He was holding a red Solo cup.

  Harlan said, “Annabelle. Hey.” He took a breath. “Hi, Dad.”

  Time to be the support system.

  18

  Return of the Hero

  Nobody’d every accused Axel Kristiansen of fading into the background. He said, “Well, well, well. The hero returns. How about that?” All with a big, shit-eating grin.

  He was about three-quarters gone, Harlan figured. He’d gotten an early start today, Super Bowl and all, but was still trying to do his just-a-great-guy thing, like he always did in public. Axel saved his ugly face for home.

  Harlan said, “Hey, Bug,” gave her a hug and kiss on a cheek, and got her squeeze back. “Surprise visit. Decided if everybody was going to turn out in the cold, I’d better show up for it. Hey, guys, this is my sister, Annabelle, and my dad, Axel. This is Owen, and my friends Jennifer and Dyma, uh …”

  He had no idea. “Cardello,” Jennifer said with a smile.

  His sister said. “Hi. I can’t believe you came after all. I didn’t think you would. And Owen. Hi.” She blushed a little, and Owen, who’d met her at games in the past, gave her a kiss on the cheek. Everybody’s mom loved Owen, and so did everybody’s sister. Something about him being so big. It should’ve made him seem frightening, but instead, it made him seem almost … comforting. Or maybe that was just Owen. Off the field, anyway.

  Axel said, still in that fake-jovial tone, “We were sure surprised to hear you were down here, after you didn’t show up for my event last night. You left an awful lot of people disappointed, but I guess you’re used to that by now. And then your sister and I had to hustle down today without any notice. Good going there. Guess we must’ve missed your call.”

  How many little digs was that in a few sentences? “Yeah,” Harlan said. “I decided I’d drop by after all. It was a last-minute impulse. You were right, though. There are people here I owe.” He wanted to ask who’d driven, but he already knew. That would be his dad. Another thing that made him nuts.

  “Everyone except your old man, I guess,” his dad said. “And you found some new friends to bring with you. Well, welcome, ladies. Any friend of the star, and if she’s as pretty as the two of you … well, a man can never go wrong with that kind of female companionship, can he?”

  He looked Jennifer and Dyma over, and Harlan’s hand clenched around his own red Solo cup. It had been thrust at him by somebody back there, he couldn’t even remember who. He asked Jennifer, “Would you hold this for me?” He couldn’t stand to look drunk for this. Owen had said that thing about not caring what people thought, but still … he couldn’t stand it.

  “Sure,” Jennifer said without batting an eye, and took it.

  “You enjoy that plane ride?” Axel asked Jennifer. “The two of you? Sisters, huh? Twice the fun. Bet Harlan brought you in a private jet, too, didn’t he? He loves to show up that way. Next thing you know, he’ll be landing a helicopter right on the fifty-yard line. I thought he might be embarrassed about how the season ended and that was why he wouldn’t come today, but I guess it takes more than that. Nothing like the pull of an adoring crowd. Every salesman needs an audience. He comes by that honest, at least.” He checked out Dyma again. “But he didn’t even know your last name. Pretty sad. I taught him better than that. Always learn a lady’s name, right, son?” He laughed. “Not every man could bounce back from taking his team right out of the Super Bowl. Got to hand it to you, this right here looks like a pretty good bounce. Only about the biggest mistake in your life, and not like your damn job isn’t catching the ball, but, hey. Easy come, easy go, am I right? You show up, and everybody forgives you. It’s a gift.”

  Harlan wanted to hit him. He wanted to do it so bad, it was freezing him. He was always quick with a quip, either to shut somebody down or to make somebody laugh, but now, he couldn’t think of anything to say.

  Jennifer said, sounding surprisingly calm, as if all that had rolled right off her back, “We did meet him recently. We met in Yellowstone a few days ago, in fact, of all the crazy places. This isn’t even the coldest I’ve been lately. It’s close, though.”

  “Really?” That was Annabelle jumping in. “I’ve never been to Yellowstone. I guess I could just drive down to the Black Hills if I wanted to see bison, though, and I’m not sure I want to see a grizzly up close. What was it like? Did you see any animals?”

  “Come on, Annabelle,” Axel said, still sounding jovial, but with that hard edge to it. “Nobody wants to hear you yammering about animals. Harlan came to talk to the town, not his little sister. And to show off his new lady friends.”

  Harlan thought Jennifer might be a l
ittle flushed, but that was probably just the cold, because her voice was cheerful when she told his sister, “If you were me, you wouldn’t want to see a bison up close, either. You know how I actually met Harlan? When he threw himself between me and a charging bison. Well, between me and a charging snowmobile, but the snowmobile was running from the bison, so … same thing. It was the bravest and the craziest thing I’ve ever seen. It was my first day skiing, and I sure wasn’t going to be able to get out of the way by myself. I’m not sure I’d even be alive if it weren’t for your brother. I know I’d be in bad shape, anyway. So when he asked if we wanted to come along for this trip, because he wanted some company for the ride, well … I wasn’t going to say no.” She gave Annabelle a sunny smile. “I’m glad to have somebody to talk to about it who might actually be scared if it happened to them. As it was, I was the only one. Everybody else seemed to think it was just some great adventure.”

  “Wait,” Dyma said. “Hold on, Mom. Are we just supposed to ignore that this guy just implied that we’re both sleeping with Kris … with Harlan, and he doesn’t even know our names? That we’re some kind of slutty, disposable … what do you call football groupies?” she asked Owen.

  “Groupies,” he said. “Jersey chasers. Whatever.” Harlan wanted to say, Don’t say that in front of my little sister, but Dyma was right. His dad had already said it.

  “What you should call them,” Dyma said, “is women who are happy to sleep with you. Luckily for you. And if they’re slutty, what are you?”

  “Good point,” Owen said, still sounding calm. But then, it wasn’t his family.

  “Dyma,” Jennifer said. “It’s all right.”

  “It’s all right?” Dyma said. “How? You flew halfway across the country so Harlan would have company, and his dad insulted you. After we just talked about this, about how you don’t have to feel this way anymore! After you’ve spent the last nineteen years doing it, and you’re going to let him do it again?”