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Every Last Fear(67)

Author:Alex Finlay

The heavier man Ganesh had called Muffin Top hitched up his pants.

“Nobody asked you, Osama bin Fuckface,” the leader said.

Matt grabbed Ganesh just in time, holding him back from jumping on the guy.

The man’s legs were spread, a fighting stance. His friends seemed less enthusiastic.

That was when Matt realized that he recognized them, the friends. He looked at Semen Breath. “It’s been a long time, Steve. How’s your sister doing?”

Steven Ellison’s eyes immediately hit the floor. They’d been in Cub Scouts together. Gone on camping trips. Had playdates. Steve’s older sister had a severe disability and was in a wheelchair, unable even to feed herself.

“She’s good,” Steve said, his eyes sheepishly lifting to Matt’s.

“And, Nate, you still playing baseball?” The man Ganesh had called Muffin Top had been the star of their Little League team.

Nate, too, looked down, embarrassed.

But the leader, he was familiar, though Matt couldn’t quite place him, said, “You pussies can get all nostalgic, but this motherfucker”—he poked a finger in Matt’s chest—“thinks he and those Jew filmmakers can drag us all through the mud, and then just show up in our bar like nothing’s happened.”

“I had no part in the documentary,” Matt said.

“The fuck you and your shit family didn’t.”

Now Matt felt his blood turn hot. The rage he’d worked so hard to bury all these years coming to the surface again. “Say one more thing about my family, and Steve and Nate are gonna have to carry you out of here.” Matt meant it.

The crowd that had formed around them parted, and a blur of dark hair whooshed by. It was a young woman. She walked right up to the leader and put herself between the man and Matt.

“Ricky, what the hell are you doing? I’m gonna tell Mom that you’re—” She stopped, spun around, and stared intensely at Matt and his friends. “If you put one finger on him, you’ll be charged with murder. He’s got a plate in his head. One tap could kill him.” She looked at Matt.

“You should know better.”

Matt couldn’t believe it. After all the years thinking about that night at the Knoll—his electrifying first kiss—and it was her. Jessica Wheeler. As Matt stood staring, the crowd dispersed. Jessica shepherded Ricky, Steve, and Nate back to their table, wagging her finger at them. In just a few seconds, she’d ended the standoff. Shamed them all.

Back at their table, Matt watched Jessica as she continued to scold the three, then led her brother to a back office. She must work at the place. Matt had a vague recollection of Ricky Wheeler now. Ricky had been on the football team with Danny, but they hadn’t been close friends. Ricky looked much different these days. Not just older and heavier; there was a slackness in his face. The slurred speech Matt had attributed to drinking too much might be from a brain injury. Matt watched the door to the office, waiting for Jessica to come back out.

“Hell-o,” Kala said, snapping her fingers in front of Matt’s face.

Matt was about to explain when his cell phone chimed. Agent Keller’s number. He swiped the device.

“Matt, it’s Sarah Keller.” She said something else he couldn’t make out. The connection was fuzzy, and the bar was loud again.

“I’m having a hard time hearing you. Hold on one second.” Matt plugged an ear with his finger and pushed through the crowd.

“Can you hear me?” Keller asked.

Matt stepped outside the bar. He made his way past two men smoking near the front door, and to the parking lot, which was lit by a single streetlight. It was good to be out of the stale air of the bar. “Yeah, sorry about that.”

“No worries. I heard you had some problems in Mexico,” Keller said.

“You can say that.”

“Carlita Escobar said you had a run-in with the local police. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a long-ass day.”

“I can imagine.” She paused. “I hoped we could catch up tomorrow. You have time to meet?”

“Yeah, but I’m not in New York. I changed my flight and came to Nebraska.”

“I know, so did I. Could we meet in the morning? I saw a diner on the main road, so maybe we could get some breakfast?”

“Sure, but I don’t understand why you came all the way here to—”

“I’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow. But right now I have a question for you, and it’s not something I want to ask.”

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