Sirian Summer

Sample

By the time those at the corner table had finished din­ner, Willis Kline and Gerald Graves were as drunk as Suzanne had ever seen them. They’d been drinking Lightning for over an hour before the meal. They were swapping boisterous stories and smoking cigarettes when Kristina arrived to clear their table, and she couldn’t have picked a worse moment.

As she leaned over the table to lift the dirty dishes, Willis Kline winked at Graves and slid his right hand up her thigh and under her skirt.

Kristina had just lifted the stack of plates and reacted instinctively, jerking upright with a squeal and losing the plates, which cascaded into Kline’s lap.

Kline leaped to his feet in sudden fury, grabbed the girl and shook her, then slapped her soundly. Kristina screamed in panic and tried to throw up her hands to cover her face, but Kline shoved her face down against the table, grabbed her by the hair and began slamming her forehead down again and again.

It all happened in five seconds’ time, too fast for anyone to react. Suzanne leaped around the end of the bar, but was too slow. Someone else was already there, and Willis Kline was catapulted across the stage, crashing into band instruments, as Nathan Green hit him like a railsled.

“Get your hands off her, you goddamned pervert!” Nathan screamed, and as Kline struggled to his feet the boy knocked him down again, and then again.

Kline was reaching for his laser pistol when Gerald Graves grabbed Nathan from behind and twisted him to the floor, punching him brutally with short, hard jabs to the stomach and kidneys.

Nathan struggled like a hypercat, but couldn’t get free of the older man, and suddenly found himself helpless before both Graves and Willis Kline.

Suzanne had reached the table by then and pulled Kristina away, holding her even though the girl was screaming hysterically at the men to release Nathan. Across the club Nathan’s parents were staring in horror. Everyone else seemed paralyzed, and Suzanne turned to Blake in cold fury.

“Do something, Sheriff!”

Blake got unsteadily to his feet, as if just remembering that he was the sheriff.

Kline was beating the boy with his laser pistol and blood was spurting across the floor.

“That’ll do, Willis!” Blake said. “Let him go!”

Kline either didn’t hear or didn’t care. He hauled Nathan to his feet, where he sagged into Graves’s arms, and began hammering him with his fists.

“I said let him go, Willis!” But Blake didn’t move from where he stood.

Jason Kline, realizing Willis wasn’t going to stop, rushed forward and grabbed him by the arm, pulling him away. Willis shook his brother off and returned to his task, but Jason lunged again and the two men struggled, finally crashing to the floor and upsetting a nearby table. Willis Kline’s alcohol intake and the sudden exertion finally caught up with him—his younger brother managed to pin him and hold him.

“God damn it, Willis! You’re gonna kill the kid!”

“I will kill the little bastard!” Willis panted, his eyes bloodshot with rage. “Lemme go!”

But Jason held him down, turning his head to look at Blake.

“Get over here, goddammit! Help me!”

Blake obeyed, and between them they got Kline to his feet and pushed him toward the door. Everyone in the club was staring in disbelief as they passed, but Suzanne stopped them at the exit, pushing in front of Willis Kline, her green eyes blazing with anger.

“Willis, if you ever touch my daughter again I will personally cut your balls off! Do you hear me?”

Kline stared at her a second, spat blood on the floor, then his lip twisted into a sneer.

“Fuck you, Suzanne!”

“Only in your wet dreams, cowboy!”

“You seem to forget who you’re talking to.”

“No I haven’t! You have! If I tell your daddy about this incident you’ll wish I hadn’t. He has a vested interest in this place and what goes on around here. He’ll rip off your skin and salt it for you. You know he will. Now you get your stupid ass out of here, and when you come back you act like a gentleman, or you’re finished! I won’t tell you twice.”

Willis stared uncomfortably at her, more than a little cowed by the threat of his father finding out. He wanted to keep up the bravado, but she had him treed and he knew it. He ground his teeth shut and pushed on out the door.

“I’m sorry, Suzanne,” Jason Kline said. He stared at her with hollow eyes, and she just nodded.

“Thanks for stopping him,” she said, her voice only slightly less frigid.

As Jason followed his brother outside, Suzanne turned and marched back across the room to where Gerald Graves was picking up his hat. He saw her and started to grin, but she stunned him with an open-handed slap across the face that cracked like an electro-whip.

“I don’t want to see you in here for thirty days!” she hissed at him. “And when you come back, you will protect my daughter if she’s ever mistreated again.”

“Suzanne, for God’s sake…”

“Shut up! You say one more word and I’ll tell Mr. Kline that you stood by and let Willis molest Kristina. You wouldn’t like what would happen next! Do we understand each other?”

Graves stared at her for long seconds, twisting his hat rapidly in his hands. Finally he swallowed hard and nodded.

“Sure, Suzanne. I’m sorry.”

“All right. Get out. And don’t come back for a month. A whole month!”

He left quickly, painfully aware of the stares and whis­pers from the other customers. Suzanne then advanced on Roy Blake and stood nose to nose with him.

“You son of a bitch!” she spat. “What the fuck were you thinking!”

“Jesus, Suzanne, I…”

“You fucking hand puppet!”

“Hey, now look…”

“Get out! If you can’t keep peace in here, then don’t come in at all!”

Blake didn’t know what to do. He was the sheriff, he should be shown some respect—especially in front of all these people. But she was Suzanne Norgaard, and though she was just a woman, no one in Kline Corners had ever been able to stand up to her. He wasn’t brave enough to be the first.

He cleared his throat uncertainly. “I’ll come back and talk to you when you’ve calmed down…”

“I am calm, goddammit! Get out before I lose my temper!”

Blake turned and beat a hasty retreat, and finally it was over.

Almost.

The Greens had picked up their son and set him down on the stage, where the band members stood awkwardly around wondering what the hell to do.

Kristina sat next to Nathan, pressing against him, alternately mopping his face with a towel and kissing any place she could find that wasn’t bruised or cut or bleeding.

The boy was in serious pain, moaning from the beating he’d taken; his eyes were swollen and one ear was smashed, but he’d lost no teeth and there were no obvi­ous broken bones.

Suzanne approached and looked down at him, then turned to one of her waitresses.

“Get Dr. Taylor!” she ordered, then turned to Mrs. Green. “Let him lie down here. The doctor should be here in a few minutes.”

Dr. Taylor was there in three minutes flat, and after examining the boy pronounced him fit to live, though he would be sore for several days and might have a couple of scars.

“Right now he just needs bed rest,” she said.

Suzanne helped the Greens get the boy to his feet, an arm around each parent. Before he left, Suzanne spoke to him softly.

“Nathan, that was the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” she said. “Thank you for helping Kristina.”

He tried to grin, but winced in pain as Kristina kissed him full on the lips. “I love you, Nathan!” the girl declared solemnly, and then his parents led him out, to the standing applause of the other patrons.

“Okay, everyone,” Suzanne said when things had quieted down. “The show’s over. I’m sorry your dinner was disturbed. Dessert is on the house.” She turned to the band. “Back to work, fel­lows.”

Mother and daughter retreated toward the kitchen as the music started again and the other girls cleaned up the mess. Suzanne hugged the girl frantically and Kristina, now overwhelmed by all the adrenaline, burst into tears. It took ten minutes for them to both calm down.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“I’m fine, Mom. I just…it all happened so fast!”

“I know. If Willis ever touches you again, I’ll kill him!”

“Nathan saved me, Mother.”

Suzanne backed off and studied her daughter’s face for a minute. “You really do love him, don’t you?”

“Yes. And he loves me, too.”

“I think that’s obvious. He damn near gave his life for you in there. Only a fool would attack Willis Kline like that—or a man who loves a woman more than his own life.”

“You were wrong about him, Mother.” Kristina’s clear green eyes stared holes through Suzanne’s. “He’s not a bad person.”

“I never thought he was a bad person. I just thought he was bad for you. You’re both so young.”

“Willis Kline isn’t young, and look what he did to me.”

“I know. Nathan is more of a man at seventeen than Kline will ever be.”

“So can I see Nathan now?”

Suzanne stared at the girl—correction, the young woman—facing her and slowly nodded her head.

“Yes,” she sighed. “I guess you can. But don’t let yourself get carried away.”

Kristina’s somber expression disappeared and a smile came out. She threw her arms around her mother and hugged her.

“Thank you, Mom! I love you!”

“I love you, too, honey. All I want is for you to be safe and happy. Now, why don’t you take the rest of the night off? Go see that boy and let him know that he can eat here free for the next year.”

“Really?”

“Yes. Now go!”

Kristina was gone like a shot, and when she had disappeared out the door Suzanne leaned against a wall and closed her eyes with dread. It wasn’t over. She knew that for a fact. Willis Kline would never forgive Nathan Green for attacking him, especially in public. He would get even, somehow. Maybe not openly—he wouldn’t likely shoot him down in the street—but he would do something.