Susie, being Susie, hadn’t handled it so well.

“I talked to her.”

“She the one who gave it to that kid from The Star?” Jackie asked.

“Yeah,” Colt answered.

Jackie sighed then said softly, “People work things out in different ways.”

Jackie was wrong or, more likely, she was being generous. Susie wasn’t working anything out. Susie was, as usual, being a bitch.

The only thing that surprised him was the stories printed in The Star laid out the truth about Feb and Colt as far as Susie knew it but there was nothing ugly, nothing mean. Colt figured the way Feb had a lock on the unconscious Susie, clearly in shock, so much, after they took down Denny, they had a job of getting Feb to let her go, Susie absorbed something good from Feb. It was a fanciful notion but since Susie didn’t have many not ugly, not mean bones in her body that was the only way he could figure it.

Jackie changed the subject and remarked, “Don’t know why you aren’t takin’ Jack or Morrie.” She looked from the road to Colt and said, “You know I like me a bike, honey, but pickin’ a Harley is man’s work.”

“We aren’t lookin’ at bikes, Jackie,” Colt told her then pulled into a spot on the street in front of Reinhart’s Jewelry Store, stopped and turned off his truck.

She looked out her window to the store then she looked at Colt then back at the store.

He knew she’d cottoned onto the situation when she dropped her forehead to the window and whispered, “You shoulda brought Cheryl. My fingers are bigger than Feb’s.”

“Your taste’s the exact same, though.”

It was a lie. Jackie’s taste was nothing like Feb’s. She knew it and he knew it. Colt just wanted her there. He knew she knew that too and it took a beat but he heard the hitch in her throat that meant tears and he put his hand to her back.

“Jackie, look at me.”

She took her time but she turned to look at him, tears in her eyes but a shaky smile on her face.

“You know, I was honored, dancin’ the mother’s dance with you at your and Melanie’s wedding,” she whispered.

“Yeah, you told me then.”

He could barely hear her when she said, “I’ll like this one better.”

Colt didn’t say a word before she turned and was out the door and heading to the store.

This was partly because she moved fast.

This was mostly because he couldn’t speak around the lump in his throat.

* * * * *

“All right, you got us both, what’s this about, son?” Jack asked when Morrie closed the office door at J&J’s.

Jack was in the desk chair. Morrie had his shoulders to the door. Colt had his shoulders to the wall.

Colt didn’t mince words. “Just got back from Jackie helpin’ me pick out Feb’s engagement ring.”

Morrie turned and slammed his palm against the wall, giving a whoop.

Jack dropped his head and stared in his lap.

Colt ignored Morrie and called, “Jack.”

“Out,” Jack muttered.

“Dad?” Morrie called.

“Out,” Jack repeated and they both heard it.

Colt looked at Morrie to see Morrie was looking at him. Without another word, they walked out.

Ignoring the fact that they left Jack in the office crying, something they’d never seen in their life and something they were both pretty f**king happy they hadn’t really seen then, Morrie asked Colt, “You wanna beer?”

“Nope, got shit to do.”

Morrie scooted behind the bar and Colt stopped at the side of it.

“You told Sully?” Morrie asked.

Colt’s felt his brows draw together and annoyance hitting him. “Before I told you and Jack?”

“Just askin’,” Morrie muttered.

“Shit, Morrie, seriously?”

“Already did best man duties at one of your weddings. I figure –”

One of his weddings?

“Don’t f**k with me, Morrie,” Colt warned.

“You two are close.”

“Yeah, close enough for him to be in the wedding party. Shit, Morrie, you’re gonna be my f**kin’ brother-in-law.”

Morrie’s head jerked as this knowledge dawned on him then he grinned. “Yeah.”

“And you’ve been my best friend since I was five.”

Morrie’s grin got bigger. “Yeah again.”

“So don’t f**k with me.”

“Dude, be cool,” Morrie said, still grinning.

Colt shook his head and rapped his knuckles on the bar, moving to leave. “Gotta go.”

“Colt, wait,” Morrie called, Colt stopped and turned to his friend, “I’m happy for you.”

Colt nodded and smiled. “Thanks, man.”

“I’m happier for her,” Morrie said quietly and Colt felt his neck twist.

“Right.”

“Thank you for bringin’ her back.”

“Morrie.”

“I missed her, man.”

“Morrie.”

“Dad did too.”

“Stop, Morrie.”

“Dude, just sayin’ –”

Colt cut him off and put an end to that particular conversation. “You’re welcome.”

Morrie nodded then declared, “If you don’t play ‘Mony Mony’ at the reception, I’m boycotting.”

Colt moved to leave, shaking his head again. “I’ll make note of that.”

“And ‘Shout’,” Morrie yelled at Colt’s back, Colt lifted a hand a flicked out his fingers, “and ‘Livin’ on a Prayer’,” Morrie went on and Colt stopped and turned to him.

“It’s a wedding reception, Morrie, not a f**kin’ 80’s flashback.”

Morrie’s eyes swept the bar and when they hit Colt he was grinning again.

Colt reckoned about fifty cell phones were now being dialed. He was still shaking his head when he walked out the front door and he didn’t care that news was right then sweeping town, not at all.

* * * * *

Colt sat on the top of picnic table at Arbuckle Acres Park, his feet on the bench and he watched his mother walk up to him, as always, clutching her purse.

When she got close, he called, “Hey Ma.”

Her smile was small and hesitant, as always, when she replied, “Hey Alec.”

He watched as she sat on the bench by his feet, her eyes to the ground.

“How’re you gettin’ on?” he asked her and her head came up but her hand never quit clutching the strap on her purse.