Deadlocked: A Sookie Stackhouse Novel by Charlaine Harris Page B

know him as a person first, a shapeshifter second.
    I’d loaned Sam some money to float the bar through the worst time. Instead of repaying me bit by bit as I’d imagined he would, Sam now regarded me as a part owner. After a long and cautious conversation, he’d upped my paycheck and added to my responsibilities. I’d never had something that was kind of my own before. There was no other word for it but “awesome.”
    Now that I handled some of the administrative work at the bar and Kennedy could come in as bartender, Sam was enjoying a little more well-earned time off. He spent some of it with Jannalynn. He went fishing, a pastime he’d enjoyed with his dad and mom when he was a kid. Sam also worked on his double-wide inside and out, trimming his hedge and raking his yard, planting flowers and tomatoes in season, to the amusement of the rest of the staff.
    I didn’t think it was funny. I thought it was real nice that Sam liked to take care of his home, even if it was parked behind the bar.
    What gave me the most pleasure was seeing the tension ease out of his shoulders now that Merlotte’s was on an even keel again.
    I was a little early. I had the time to make some measurements in the storeroom. I figured if I had the right to accept beer shipments,I had the right to institute a few changes, too—subject to Sam’s approval and consent, of course.
    The guy who drove the truck, Duff McClure, knew exactly where to put the beer. I counted the cases as he unloaded them. I’d offered to help the first time we’d dealt together, and Duff had made it clear it would be a cold day in Hell before a woman helped him do physical work. “You been selling more Michelob lately,” he remarked.
    “Yeah, we got a few guys who’ve decided that’s all they’re gonna drink,” I said. “They’ll be back to Bud Light before too long.”
    “You need any TrueBlood?”
    “Yeah, the usual case.”
    “You got a regular vamp clientele.”
    “Small but regular,” I agreed, my mind on writing the check for the shipment. We had a few days to pay it, but Sam had always paid on delivery. I thought that was a good policy.
    “They take three, four cases at Vic’s,” Duff said conversationally.
    “Bigger bar.” I began writing the check.
    “I guess vamps are everywhere now.”
    “Um-hum,” I muttered, filling it out carefully. I was serious about my check-writing privileges. I signed with a flourish.
    “Even that bar in Shreveport, that one that turned out to be for werewolves, they take some blood drinks now.”
    “Hair of the Dog?” Hadn’t Mustapha mentioned a vamp who was hanging out at the Were bar?
    “Yeah. I delivered there this morning.”
    “Huh.” This news was unsettling, but husky Duff was a huge gossip, and I didn’t want him to know he’d shaken me. “Well, everybody’s got to drink,” I said easily. “Here’s your check, Duff. How’s Dorothy?” Duff tucked the check into the zippered pouch he kept in a locked boxin the passenger floorboard. “She’s good,” he said with a grin. “We’re having another young’un, she says.”
    “Oh my gosh, how many does that make?”
    “This’ll be number three,” Duff said, shaking his head with a rueful grin. “They gonna have to take out some college loans, do it themselves.”
    “It’ll be fine,” I said, which meant almost nothing except that I felt goodwill toward the McClure family.
    “Sure thing,” he said. “Catch you next time, Sookie. I see Sam’s got his fishing pole out. Tell him I said to catch some crappie for me.”
    When the truck had gone, Sam came out of the trailer and came over to the bar.
    “You did that on purpose,” I said. “You just don’t like Duff.”
    “Duff’s okay,” Sam said. “He just talks too much. Always has.”
    I hesitated a moment. “He says they’re stocking TrueBlood at the Hair of the Dog.” I was treading on shaky ground.
    “Really? That’s pretty weird.”
    I may not be able to read