Cindy had left in a hurry the night before and had not told the manager. She was afraid of squealing on anyone; she was afraid of everything at the moment, and needed a friend. Hugh sat with her for hours and kept ice on her wounds.
He found Nevin Noll the following day and told him what happened. Nevin said he would handle the situation. He checked with the club’s manager and learned the identity of the customer. Three days later, with Cindy back at work and hiding the damage under even more makeup, Nevin asked Hugh to take a ride with him.
“Where to?” he asked, though it didn’t matter. He admired Noll and wanted to get even closer. In many ways he thought of him as a big brother, one who’d been around the block a few times.
“We’re going over to Pascagoula to look at new Chryslers,” Noll said with a smile.
“You buying one?”
“Nope. I think our boy sells cars over there. Let’s drop by and have a word.”
“This sounds like fun.”
“You just stay in the car, okay? I’ll do the talking.”
Half an hour later, they parked near a row of beautiful new Chrysler sedans. Nevin got out, walked over to one, looked it over, and was studying the sticker in the window when a salesman approached with a big hello and a toothy smile. He stretched out a hand as if they were old friends, but Nevin ignored it. “Looking for Roger Brewer.”
“That’s me. What can I do for you?”
“You were at Red Velvet Monday night.”
Brewer lost his smile and glanced over his shoulder. He shrugged, gave a smart-ass “So what?”
“Spent some time with one of our girls, Cindy.”
“What is this?”
“Maybe I want to buy a car.”
“Who the hell are you?”
“She weighs a hundred and ten pounds and you slapped her around.”
“So?” Brewer had the appearance of a man who’d slapped around others and was not shy about violence. He squared up to Nevin and showed him a sneer.
Nevin took a step closer, within striking distance, and said, “She’s a kid. Why don’t you slap people your own size?”
“Like you?”
“That’s a good place to start.”
Brewer had a second thought and said, “Get outta here.”
Hugh inched even lower in the front seat, but didn’t miss anything. His window was down and he was close enough to hear the conversation.
“Don’t come back, okay?” Nevin said. “It’s off-limits for you.”
“Go to hell. I’ll do what I want.”
The first punch was so quick Hugh almost missed it. A short right cross landed square on Brewer’s jaw, snapping back his head and buckling his knees. He fell onto the front of a new sedan, caught himself, and threw a wild roundhouse right hook that Nevin easily ducked. His next shot was a hard right to Brewer’s gut that made him squeal. A left-right-left combo ripped his eyebrows and lacerated his lips. A hard right hook knocked him onto the hood of the sedan. Nevin yanked his feet and pulled him off the hood, crashing the back of his head on the bumper as he went down. On the asphalt, Nevin kicked him square in the nose and appeared ready to beat him to death.
“Hey!” someone yelled and Hugh saw two men running toward them.
Nevin ignored them and kicked Brewer again in the face. When the first man was close enough, Nevin whirled with a left hook and dropped him cold. The second one stopped, froze, and had a quick afterthought. “Who are you?”