“That was pretty amazing. You took down three of them in no time flat.”
“Well, son, let’s just say that I’ve had some experience.”
“So, you do this all the time?”
“No, not all the time. Most of our customers know the rules. Occasionally, we’ll get an ass like Brewer back there and have to run him off. More often, though, it’s some flyboys who get drunk and start fighting.”
Nevin turned in to the Tastee-Freez and parked at the drive-in. He ordered two large banana shakes and turned on the radio to WVMI Biloxi, which happened to be Hugh’s favorite too.
“You ever boxed?” Nevin asked.
Hugh shook his head.
“I used my fists a lot when I was a kid. Had to. One of my uncles boxed in the army, before he got kicked out, and he taught me the basics. And we didn’t always use gloves. When I was sixteen I knocked him out. He said I had the quickest hands he’d ever seen. He encouraged me to join the army or air force, primarily to get the hell out of the mountains, but also to box on organized teams.”
Nevin lit a cigarette and glanced at his watch. Hugh looked at his hands and fingers and saw no signs of the beating.
Hugh asked, “Did you box at Keesler?”
“Some, yeah, but it was more fun fighting the Yankees who were always putting us down. I stayed in trouble and they finally kicked me out. Plus, I hated wearing a uniform.”
A cute girl on skates rolled to their car and delivered the milkshakes. When they were back on Highway 90 and headed for Biloxi, Nevin felt the need to offer more worldly advice to his young protégé. After a long pull on his straw he said, “This girlyou’re seeing, Cindy. Don’t get too attached, okay? I know, I know, right now you’re all aglow with puppy love, but she’s nothing but trouble.”
“You fixed me up.”
“Sure I did, but you’ve had your fun, so move on. As you’ll learn, there are plenty of women out there.”
Hugh worked his straw and absorbed this unsolicited advice.
Nevin said, “She’ll be gone before you know it. They come and go. She’s too pretty to hang around. She’ll go back home and marry some old boy from church.”
“She’s only sixteen.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“I’m not surprised. They all lie.”
Hugh grew quiet as he considered life without Cindy Murdock. Nevin had said plenty and decided it was time to shut up. He was only twenty-three years old and, though he’d seen a lot, he had never fallen hard for a woman.
A siren startled both of them. Hugh turned around and saw a deputy in a blue-and-white patrol car. “Shit!” Nevin said as he pulled onto the shoulder of the busy highway. Then he looked at Hugh with a smile and said, “I’ll take care of this.”
Nevin got out and met the deputy between the cars. Luckily he was from Harrison County. They had crossed from Jackson County less than a mile back.
Harrison County was the domain of Sheriff Albert “Fats” Bowman, rumored to be the highest-paid public official in the state, with precious little of his income ever hitting the books.
The deputy began as a hard-ass. “Your license, please.”
Nevin handed it over and tried not to be cocky. He knew what was about to happen. The deputy did not.
He said, “Gotta call outta Pascagoula, said a guy driving a car just like this one needed to answer some questions. Something about an assault at the Chrysler place.”
“So, what’s your question?”
“You been to the Chrysler place in Pascagoula?”
“Just left. Had to see a man named Roger Brewer. He’s probably at the hospital right now, getting sewed up. Brewer was at Red Velvet Monday night and slapped around one of our girls. He won’t do it again.”
The deputy handed back the driver’s license and glanced around, not quite sure what to do next. “So, I take it you work at Red Velvet.”
“I do. Lance Malco is my boss. He sent me to see Brewer. Everything’s fine on our end.”
“Okay. I guess we got no
“Well, son, let’s just say that I’ve had some experience.”
“So, you do this all the time?”
“No, not all the time. Most of our customers know the rules. Occasionally, we’ll get an ass like Brewer back there and have to run him off. More often, though, it’s some flyboys who get drunk and start fighting.”
Nevin turned in to the Tastee-Freez and parked at the drive-in. He ordered two large banana shakes and turned on the radio to WVMI Biloxi, which happened to be Hugh’s favorite too.
“You ever boxed?” Nevin asked.
Hugh shook his head.
“I used my fists a lot when I was a kid. Had to. One of my uncles boxed in the army, before he got kicked out, and he taught me the basics. And we didn’t always use gloves. When I was sixteen I knocked him out. He said I had the quickest hands he’d ever seen. He encouraged me to join the army or air force, primarily to get the hell out of the mountains, but also to box on organized teams.”
Nevin lit a cigarette and glanced at his watch. Hugh looked at his hands and fingers and saw no signs of the beating.
Hugh asked, “Did you box at Keesler?”
“Some, yeah, but it was more fun fighting the Yankees who were always putting us down. I stayed in trouble and they finally kicked me out. Plus, I hated wearing a uniform.”
A cute girl on skates rolled to their car and delivered the milkshakes. When they were back on Highway 90 and headed for Biloxi, Nevin felt the need to offer more worldly advice to his young protégé. After a long pull on his straw he said, “This girlyou’re seeing, Cindy. Don’t get too attached, okay? I know, I know, right now you’re all aglow with puppy love, but she’s nothing but trouble.”
“You fixed me up.”
“Sure I did, but you’ve had your fun, so move on. As you’ll learn, there are plenty of women out there.”
Hugh worked his straw and absorbed this unsolicited advice.
Nevin said, “She’ll be gone before you know it. They come and go. She’s too pretty to hang around. She’ll go back home and marry some old boy from church.”
“She’s only sixteen.”
“How do you know?”
“I just know.”
“I’m not surprised. They all lie.”
Hugh grew quiet as he considered life without Cindy Murdock. Nevin had said plenty and decided it was time to shut up. He was only twenty-three years old and, though he’d seen a lot, he had never fallen hard for a woman.
A siren startled both of them. Hugh turned around and saw a deputy in a blue-and-white patrol car. “Shit!” Nevin said as he pulled onto the shoulder of the busy highway. Then he looked at Hugh with a smile and said, “I’ll take care of this.”
Nevin got out and met the deputy between the cars. Luckily he was from Harrison County. They had crossed from Jackson County less than a mile back.
Harrison County was the domain of Sheriff Albert “Fats” Bowman, rumored to be the highest-paid public official in the state, with precious little of his income ever hitting the books.
The deputy began as a hard-ass. “Your license, please.”
Nevin handed it over and tried not to be cocky. He knew what was about to happen. The deputy did not.
He said, “Gotta call outta Pascagoula, said a guy driving a car just like this one needed to answer some questions. Something about an assault at the Chrysler place.”
“So, what’s your question?”
“You been to the Chrysler place in Pascagoula?”
“Just left. Had to see a man named Roger Brewer. He’s probably at the hospital right now, getting sewed up. Brewer was at Red Velvet Monday night and slapped around one of our girls. He won’t do it again.”
The deputy handed back the driver’s license and glanced around, not quite sure what to do next. “So, I take it you work at Red Velvet.”
“I do. Lance Malco is my boss. He sent me to see Brewer. Everything’s fine on our end.”
“Okay. I guess we got no
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