Ham
Page 29
Rare was the occasion when The Bear ventured into town, this or any other. When he did, it was always with a purpose, performing just what he must before retreating back to the safety of home.
And there existed no greater purpose than the one that had drawn him out on this particular evening.
A thin smile tugged at the corners of The Bear’s mouth as he sat buffeted with the knowledge that there was no way anybody inside had ever seen him before. Not the couple at the front table, not the pot-bellied man in a dirty t-shirt and apron working the grill behind the bar, and not the lone waitress covering the thin crowd.
Even if The Bear had seen her before.
Many, many times.
Hands gripped around the nearly empty coffee cup, The Bear sat with his elbows on the table, his shoulders bunched just beneath his ears. With his gaze aimed toward the windows lining the front of the diner, he looked out at the gas station sitting across the street, a menagerie of neon signage already burning bright, beckoning to any potential customers.
For all its effort, though, the attempt seemed to be just as futile as anything the diner was trying, only a single car sitting outside. Which wasn’t too surprising, the entire town serving as home to less than two thousand people.
Another point in The Bear’s favor.
“Everything alright here?” the waitress asked, a tired smile on her face as she arrived at the head of his table.
Looking up from his spot along the far side of the booth, his back to the wall, affording him a full view of the room, The Bear forced a smile as well. “Oh, yes ma’am. Thank you.”
“Will there be anything else?” she asked.
At ten minutes before closing time, the timing of her arrival wasn’t by mistake. Nor was the look on her face, bordering on hopeful.
The Bear had been welcome for the first fifty minutes of his stay, a decent enough distraction, offering a nice break in the dull monotony of a Tuesday evening.
But now he was starting to tread dangerously close to forcing her to stay a minute longer than necessary.
Taking a moment before responding, The Bear looked up at her. He studied the contours of her face, seeing the way her wide cheekbones sloped toward her chin. He took in her dark hair pulled into a messy bun behind her head, the tangle held in place by the chewed nub of a pencil jammed down into it at an angle.
And he stared at the chestnut eyes looking back his way, so dark they almost matched the black of her pupils.
The semblance was so striking, it almost pulled the air from his chest.
“No ma’am,” The Bear replied, his voice soft, a complete contrast to the various emotions roiling within him. “Just the check, please.”
“Sure thing, Hon,” the waitress replied. Reaching into the front of her apron, she pulled out a single sheet of paper, already detached from the pad she’d used to take his order. “I can take that whenever you’re ready.”
Allowing his gaze to linger another moment, to make one last pass through his mental checklist, The Bear nodded. “Thank you.”
As fast as the girl had arrived, she was gone again. Twirling on the ball of her foot, she headed toward the swinging doors separating the front from the kitchen, already untying the apron from her waist as she went.
Watching until she disappeared from view, The Bear extended a hand. He flipped over the check, ignoring the spots of grease along the top and even the total circled in red ink halfway down.
Instead, his focus landed on the note at the bottom, scrawled out in the waitress’s own hand, telling him to come back anytime.
A recommendation he would be all too happy to accept in the very near future.
Chapter Two
“Welcome to the Will Rogers World Airport,” the automated voice said over the loud speaker. Ignored by the vast majority of people moving through the place, the words settled into Reed Mattox’s ears, drawing a smile to his face.
Just as they did every time he heard them.
Why the Oklahoma City airport insisted on referring to itself as a world airport instead of an international airport was something he had discussed at length with his parents. And his friends. And even occasionally the poor soul sitting next to him on an outbound flight.
Allowing the smile to linger, Reed hitched the bag on his shoulder up a bit higher. With his face aimed toward the ground, he rounded the last turn out of the gate area of the terminal, two things hitting him in unison, making it very clear that he had reached his destination.
The first was the smell of barbecue. A heavenly combination of charred animal flesh and wood smoke, it seemed to waft down from the food court nearby, a Siren calling out to weary travelers as they stumbled past.
On cue, Reed felt his stomach constrict, the fact that it had been ages since he’d had proper brisket not lost on him.
Even if it would have to wait, the second thing arriving a moment later.
The sound was nothing short of earsplitting, threatening to shatter any pane of glass within hearing distance. Held at an octave that would make Mariah Carey in her prime envious, it extended for several moments, ebbing and flowing in time with the steps of Reed’s mother bounding forward, arms extended before her.
Creeping just short of the thick red line painted on the floor demarcating the secured area from the outside terminal, she paused, her slight form bobbing from side to side, the squeal continuing to well from deep within.
Trying to stop her would be of no use. Nor would attempting to placate the security guards standing on either side of the walkway, both glancing nervously between the woman and the line on the floor, hoping they wouldn’t be forced to act.
“Hey, Mama,” Reed said. Keeping his bag hoisted up onto a shoulder, he turned his body slightly to the side, clearing a path for the pair of hands that slid around his waist.
Clamping him tight in both arms, he could feel his mother squeeze tight against his rib cage, the smell of Prell shampoo rising to his nostrils.
Inching toward her sixtieth year, one would not be remiss thinking Cheryl Mattox was a full decade younger. Any signs of stray grays had been beaten back by regular trips to the salon for highlights, and her vision remained as sharp as when she was in her twenties, obviating the need for glasses.
If not for the faint lines etched around her mouth and eyes, forty-five might not be out of the question.
A graceful aging process Reed had accepted years ago would probably be skipping him in the generational cycle.
“Hey, buddy,” she replied, her voice muffled slightly by her cheek pressed tight against his chest. “Didn’t think you were ever going to get here.”
Releasing his grip on her, Reed stepped back. Glancing to the bank of monitors affixed to the wall above them, he checked the digital clock in the corner, his brow coming together slightly.
“Really? I didn’t even tell you to be here for another fifteen minutes.”
“I know,” she replied, “but you know how your father is.”
In response, Reed felt his smile grow a bit larger.
He did know how his father was. And the fact that his insistence on arriving painfully early for most everything would be the death of his mother yet.
“No idea what you’re talking about,” Reed said, the two of them falling in beside one another. To either side, passengers in a much bigger hurry sped past, making it only a few feet further before being forced out wide again.
A fact Reed also knew his father took great pride in.
Feet planted firmly in the center of the hall, Rhett Mattox stood with his arms folded across his chest. Dressed in his omnipresent Sooners t-shirt and running shoes, the only concession made for it being early summer were the cargo shorts that now covered his lower half.
Still in possession of the majority of his hair, it had trended from dark brown to steel gray, the length buzzed down into something between a flattop and a crewcut.
On his skin was already a health splash of prairie sunshine.
As Reed and his mother approached, he allowed his hands to drop by his side. Taking a step forward, he shot a straight right jab at his son, hitting him square.
Otherwise known as his version of a hug.
“Whaddya say?” he asked.
“I say I smell barbecue and see Sooner swag everywhere I look,” Reed replied. “Life is good.”
“Life is good,” his mother echoed beside him.
“Damn right,” Rhett added. “Bout time you remembered where you came from.”
Thank You For Reading!
Aloha all!
As I’ve mentioned countless times in recent years, the process of a story coming together can take many forms. Sometimes, it leaps out of a single scene, triggered by any myriad of things. (True story…the original nugget for the Hawk Tate series was from a dream, and while the finished product looked nothing like what eventually came to be, it nudged me down that path.) Others, it stems from a particular character, someone that I thought might be fun to spend some time with, both for me and readers.
The first time I heard the acronym HAM was on a podcast last summer. At the time, the speaker was alluding to a pro athlete of some sort and the way they played the game, but it immediately got me to thinking about how well that moniker could be extended out into other realms. From there, I put together the look, and then the backstory, and, well…
In this book, the main character occasionally makes some less-than-stellar references to law enforcement. Please know this was merely a stance of the character, and in no way indicative of my own thoughts. I have been fortunate to know many military and law enforcement personnel, both in my family and in my research, and I respect them all and am thankful for their service.
And lastly, while I am offering thanks, I want to once again extend the same to all my readers. The last couple of years have been truly magical and inspiring, and I hope to continue on this journey with you all in the future.
Per usual, if you would be so kind as to leave a review, I would appreciate it. If you would rather communicate directly, please feel free to do as at authordustinstevens@gmail.com.
Much love,
Dustin
Free Book!
As thank you for reading, please enjoy a FREE copy of my first bestseller – and still one of my personal favorites – 21 Hours!
Dustin’s Books
Works Written by Dustin Stevens:
Reed & Billie Novels:
The Boat Man
The Good Son
The Kid
The Partnership
Justice
( Sydney Rye/Reed & Billie Crossover)
The Scorekeeper
The Bear
(Coming Soon)
Hawk Tate Novels:
Cold Fire
Cover Fire
Fire and Ice
Hellfire
Home Fire
Zoo Crew Novels:
The Zoo Crew
Dead Peasants
Tracer
The Glue Guy
Moonblink
The Shuffle
(coming soon)
Standalone Thrillers:
Four
Ohana
Liberation Day
Twelve
21 Hours
Catastrophic
Scars and Stars
Motive
Going Viral
The Debt
One Last Day
The Subway
The Exchange
HAM
Standalone Dramas:
Just A Game
Be My Eyes
Quarterback
Children’s Books w/ Maddie Stevens:
Danny the Daydreamer…Goes to the Grammy’s
Danny the Daydreamer…Visits the Old West
Danny the Daydreamer…Goes to the Moon
(Coming Soon)
Works Written by T.R. Kohler:
Standalone:
Shoot to Wound
Peeping Thoms
The Ring
My Mira Saga
Spare Change
Office Visit
Fair Trade
About the Author
Dustin Stevens is the author of more than 40 novels, the vast majority having become #1 Amazon bestsellers, including the Reed & Billie and Hawk Tate series. The Boat Man, the first release in the best-selling Reed & Billie series, was named the 2016 Indie Award winner for E-Book fiction. The freestanding work The Debt was named an Independent Author Network action/adventure novel of the year for 2017.
He also writes thrillers and assorted other stories under the pseudonym T.R. Kohler, including the My Mira Saga, The Ring, Shoot to Wound, and Peeping Thoms.
A member of the Mystery Writers of America and Thriller Writers International, he resides in Honolulu, Hawaii.