at the airport and bring him here.”
“You and he . . .”
“Yeah, we had a thing, but I kind of told him to take a hike—I didn’t put it that mean—because his family is . . . well, complicated. His mom’s not really sane, and his little sister is a real piece of work, though I guess I never really had a chance to get to know her. I didn’t break up with him well,” I admitted. “He wants to have some kind of conversation about it. I sure don’t need that, though I guess I owe him. I just don’t understand how my being here got on the Internet.”
Sam looked embarrassed. “That might be my fault,” he said. “We keep track of each other now, all of us who change. Since the announcement, we never know what people are going to do. Humans don’t always react in predictable ways. You know that better than anyone.”
“So you put it on the Web that you and I were coming here to this wedding?”
“No! No! But I did mention it when I was talking to Travis.” Travis, a trucker who was a Were not affiliated with a pack, stopped in at Merlotte’s about once every two weeks.
“But why would you have mentioned me?”
Sam closed his eyes briefly. “You’re kind of famous in the supe community, Sookie.”
“What?” This made no sense at all.
“You’re unique. Weres like something different as much as anyone else. You’re a friend of the Shreveport pack. You’ve done a lot for twoeys.”
“Okay, several thoughts. I haven’t seen a computer around here, or I’d ask you to check Jim Collins’s website. I want to know what he’s saying about what’s happening in Wright. And here’s my second thought—I’ve been assuming that Jannalynn knows I came with you . . . right?”
“Sookie, of course Jannalynn knows I brought you to this wedding. I explained that I’d asked you before we’d started dating.” Sam looked even more embarrassed, which I didn’t think was possible. He’d already more or less admitted that that wasn’t the only reason he’d left Jannalynn at home.
Plus, Jannalynn would realize that anyone who saw on the Web that I was going with Sam to his family home would know that she was not the only woman in Sam’s life. Even though Sam and I had a platonic relationship, I knew I would have been pretty jealous if I’d been in her shoes. Or on her paws.
“Jannalynn’s going to want to kill you,” I said flatly. “Or me. And I guess I wouldn’t really blame her.”
Sam flushed, but his gaze was unwavering. “She’s a big girl. She knows better than anyone else that . . .”
“That you’ve lost your frickin’ mind? Well, it’s done now.” I sighed and regrouped, realizing that worrying about Sam’s indiscretion would have to wait until later. We needed to focus on getting Craig and Deidra married without any violence disrupting the ceremony.
“Have you thought about how Quinn and Togo and Trish can be useful? I’ve got Quinn’s cell phone number. They’re probably at the pound . . . cleaning up. Of course, I’ll help however I can.” I handed Sam the scrap of paper with Quinn’s number.
“What I’m going to ask them to do,” Sam said, “is stand guard. When we get to the church for the rehearsal, I hope you four will set up a perimeter outside. That way we’ll have plenty of warning if Collins and his buddies try something. The time of the rehearsal isn’t public knowledge, not like the wedding time. That was in the paper because the whole community was invited.”
That was a common practice in Bon Temps, too, so I wasn’t surprised. Many engagement announcements included the particulars of the marriage ceremony with the invitation, “All friends of the couple are welcome.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be a lookout.” I’d feel better standing watch with a shotgun in my hands, but I figured that if I had the Benelli, (a) I might actually shoot someone, and (b) I might get arrested. I didn’t know Texas gun laws, and there was no telling
“You and he . . .”
“Yeah, we had a thing, but I kind of told him to take a hike—I didn’t put it that mean—because his family is . . . well, complicated. His mom’s not really sane, and his little sister is a real piece of work, though I guess I never really had a chance to get to know her. I didn’t break up with him well,” I admitted. “He wants to have some kind of conversation about it. I sure don’t need that, though I guess I owe him. I just don’t understand how my being here got on the Internet.”
Sam looked embarrassed. “That might be my fault,” he said. “We keep track of each other now, all of us who change. Since the announcement, we never know what people are going to do. Humans don’t always react in predictable ways. You know that better than anyone.”
“So you put it on the Web that you and I were coming here to this wedding?”
“No! No! But I did mention it when I was talking to Travis.” Travis, a trucker who was a Were not affiliated with a pack, stopped in at Merlotte’s about once every two weeks.
“But why would you have mentioned me?”
Sam closed his eyes briefly. “You’re kind of famous in the supe community, Sookie.”
“What?” This made no sense at all.
“You’re unique. Weres like something different as much as anyone else. You’re a friend of the Shreveport pack. You’ve done a lot for twoeys.”
“Okay, several thoughts. I haven’t seen a computer around here, or I’d ask you to check Jim Collins’s website. I want to know what he’s saying about what’s happening in Wright. And here’s my second thought—I’ve been assuming that Jannalynn knows I came with you . . . right?”
“Sookie, of course Jannalynn knows I brought you to this wedding. I explained that I’d asked you before we’d started dating.” Sam looked even more embarrassed, which I didn’t think was possible. He’d already more or less admitted that that wasn’t the only reason he’d left Jannalynn at home.
Plus, Jannalynn would realize that anyone who saw on the Web that I was going with Sam to his family home would know that she was not the only woman in Sam’s life. Even though Sam and I had a platonic relationship, I knew I would have been pretty jealous if I’d been in her shoes. Or on her paws.
“Jannalynn’s going to want to kill you,” I said flatly. “Or me. And I guess I wouldn’t really blame her.”
Sam flushed, but his gaze was unwavering. “She’s a big girl. She knows better than anyone else that . . .”
“That you’ve lost your frickin’ mind? Well, it’s done now.” I sighed and regrouped, realizing that worrying about Sam’s indiscretion would have to wait until later. We needed to focus on getting Craig and Deidra married without any violence disrupting the ceremony.
“Have you thought about how Quinn and Togo and Trish can be useful? I’ve got Quinn’s cell phone number. They’re probably at the pound . . . cleaning up. Of course, I’ll help however I can.” I handed Sam the scrap of paper with Quinn’s number.
“What I’m going to ask them to do,” Sam said, “is stand guard. When we get to the church for the rehearsal, I hope you four will set up a perimeter outside. That way we’ll have plenty of warning if Collins and his buddies try something. The time of the rehearsal isn’t public knowledge, not like the wedding time. That was in the paper because the whole community was invited.”
That was a common practice in Bon Temps, too, so I wasn’t surprised. Many engagement announcements included the particulars of the marriage ceremony with the invitation, “All friends of the couple are welcome.”
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll be a lookout.” I’d feel better standing watch with a shotgun in my hands, but I figured that if I had the Benelli, (a) I might actually shoot someone, and (b) I might get arrested. I didn’t know Texas gun laws, and there was no telling
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