“Sure would be nice to have an ice cold beer,” Matt Effingham said hopefully.

“Yeah, no shit,” Larry Coopshaw agreed.

“Sure as fuck would,” Frenchy snorted. “But as long as the cops keep checking us out, there ain’t no way we dare to pull one out, even if we had it here. Fuckin’ town clowns.”

Frenchy was still a little surprised that he hadn’t been stopped by the city cops after he’d dropped off the beer in the hiding place. He was just dead sure they were after him, and he’d been feeling a little smug that he’d managed to offload the beer before they caught him. But even though they hadn’t stopped him, there’d been a cop car come crawling slowly past the house at least once an hour, and sometimes more often than that. The cops never stopped, never said anything, but he could tell they were watching. Under those circumstances, he’d be a damn fool to lead them to the hiding place just for the sake of a cold beer, and the beer wouldn’t be cold, anyway.

Despite their grousing that a beer would be nice, both Larry and Matt saw the obvious problem that sitting around with a beer in hand would bring, so they didn’t bug Frenchy about heading out to wherever it was that he’d hid the beer to get some. That meant that about all they could do was sit around Frenchy’s, drink cans of pop and listen to Frenchy bitch about whose ass he was going to kick. But hell, with the cops watching, did they really dare to do that?

It probably would get Frenchy to feeling better to pound someone, Matt thought. Bad luck for them, but fuck with Frenchy and you got what you expected. Rusty Frankovich was probably at the head of Frenchy’s hit list right now, but an Erikson was second – it didn’t matter which one, one or the other of them. Preferably both. There were others – the Jahnke wuss deserved it for ratting to the cops, even if nothing had come of it. You didn’t go ratting on someone like Frenchy without expecting to get your ass kicked.

“Oh, fuck,” Larry piped up. “Here that little shit comes again.”

They all looked up the street, to see the cop car coming down the street again. It was really irritating to see them scoping them out all the time. Something had gone down, but they had no idea what it was.

This time, the cop car came to a stop in the street right in front of the house. Both front doors opened; the driver was that little shit police chief who seemed to think that he was such hot shit, and the other one was that Piwowar joker who usually drove around in the evenings. Both of them walked right up the walk to the house where the three buddies were sitting, wondering what was happening now. They came up on the porch, and none of them missed the fact that Piwowar was standing back a couple steps, his hand close to the butt of his gun. “Are you Frank LeDroit?” the little cop said to Frenchy.

“Yeah, so what?” Frenchy sneered as he got to his feet.

“I have a personal protection order from the District Court to serve you,” the cop said, handing him an envelope. “You may not get closer than one hundred feet to Alan Jahnke or any of his family or you will be subject to a contempt of court citation. This usually means an automatic thirty days in the county jail without a trial or hearing. Is that clear?”

“You mean I can’t touch the little fuck or I’ll go to jail?” Frenchy asked. “What kind of shit is this?”

“Very serious shit,” the little cop said. “In fact, what it means is that if you get within a hundred feet of him or his family your ass will be in the can so quick it’ll make your head swim.”

“So what the fuck am I supposed to do when school starts?” Frenchy said.

“You’ll have to get within a hundred feet of him,” the police chief explained. “So long as you’re on school property. But if you touch him or threaten him, the order applies and you’ll be headed for jail.”

“That’s a crock of shit,” Frenchy sneered. “I ain’t never done nothing to him, so why does he want to do this to me?”

“You know what you did to him,” the chief said. “What’s more, I know it, too. Now knock off the bullshit and stay away from him, or you’re going to be sorry.”

The little guy turned and walked away, leaving Piwowar looking on, his hand still near his gun butt. “Don’t think I ain’t going to be keeping my eyes open,” he said. “You are in deep shit and you don’t know just how deep it is.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Frenchy standing there with smoke just about rolling out of his ears. They watched as the cops got in their car and drove off, and then Frenchy exploded. “Fuck a fuckin’ bunch of Alan Jahnke,” he fumed. “Who the fuck does that little fucker think he is that he can get away fucking pulling that fucking shit on me? I swear, I’m gonna kick his ass.”

“Better not do that, at least right away,” Larry said, trying to cool Frenchy down, which he knew to be a near impossibility. “You know Monica Laughton? She got a personal protection order against her ex-husband, and when he came to have it out with her the fucking cops were waiting. They threw his ass in jail so quick that his car sat out in front of her house for the next thirty days; he never got to move it.”

“Yeah,” Matt added, “and if you think your car was fucked up, it wasn’t anything compared to what happened to his. The cops finally had it towed and sent him a bill. It was so tore up there was no way to fix it.”

“It don’t matter,” Frenchy said flatly. “I am going to kick Jahnke’s ass up between his eardrums so far he’ll have to blow his nose to take a crap. I just ain’t gonna do it now. Maybe when school starts. The cops don’t do anything at school. His ass is kicked, it just ain’t happened yet. Christ, now I am about ready to go out and get some beer.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Larry said. “You noticed it was two of them? They’re probably expecting you to get pissed and do something like that.”

“Well, fuck,” Frenchy said. “First the car, and now this. I tell you what, somebody is getting their ass kicked tonight, I don’t know who, I don’t know when, but I gotta show these fuckin’ fuckers that they don’t fuck with me and fuckin’ expect to get away with it.”

Despite the fun they’d had earlier, Jack and Vixen were sitting on the back porch, glasses of iced tea at their sides, as they kept their binoculars trained on the row of bird feeders in the back yard. They were busy feeders, and there were a lot of birds visiting, especially brown and unremarkable little House Sparrows. Vixen had added seven birds to her life list in the last hour, and they were still seeing other species. “This is easy bird watching,” she smiled. “It sure beats the hell out of thrashing around out in the pine barrens looking for one little warbler.”

“That it does,” Jack smiled. “Of course, when you factor in what came afterward, it seems to balance things off.”

“Too bad it can’t all be like this.”

“True, but then it wouldn’t be any challenge,” Jack told her. “We’ve done some tough ones, so we deserve some easy ones.”

“Yeah, it’s nice to have an easy day once in a while,” she smiled, “especially when we can play around a little. So any ideas about tonight? Maybe wallow through some bottomless swamp in search of some nocturnal bird?”

“I don’t think I’m quite up for that,” he said. “Although it is neat to see owls working, and it doesn’t take a swamp for that. But I’m thinking that maybe we need to be a little more social, too. We had a good time with Alan and Summer on Sunday night, and I’m wondering if maybe we ought to call and see if they’d like to get together with us again.”

“Yeah, might not be a bad idea,” she nodded. “It may take more than one nudge to get them together. Besides, Alan wasn’t going out of the house because of the Frenchy thing, he might be lonely and enjoy some company.”

“You’re probably right,” he said. “I really intended to pay a little closer attention to him, but we’ve been so busy with other stuff it’s sort of slipped my mind. Besides, I have that can of bear spray that I want to give him.”

“Why don’t you go in and call him right now before it slips your bird- battered mind again?” she teased.

“Yeah, I think I’ll do it,” he said, getting to his feet, and pointing to her nearly empty glass of iced tea. “Want me to top you off?”

“Let’s wait until you call,” she suggested. “He may say to come right over. I do need to hit the little girls’ room, so maybe I’ll head in while you’re calling.”

Jack went inside while Vixen followed closely behind. He had to look up Alan’s phone number, but that wasn’t a big deal.

Alan picked up the phone on the second ring. “So what’s happening around your end of town today?” Jack asked.

“Oh, not a whole lot,” Alan replied. “Just staying in the house and out of Frenchy’s sight, although that should be ending soon.”

“Oh?” Jack was surprised. “They got the personal protection order through this soon? I thought it would take a week or so.”

“Well, on Sunday night I did too,” Alan told him, “but then Dad and I talked with Chief Wexler. He took us to Judge Dieball, and I just had a phone call from the chief that he served the order on Frenchy a little while ago.”

“That’s real good news,” Jack said. “Now, we’ll just have to see if it works. I don’t know if you know, but Frenchy appears to be after my ass and Howie’s, too. Maybe that’s something we ought to look into.”

“I don’t know how well it’s going to work,” Alan told him, “and I don’t think I’m going out of the house tonight, just on general principles. I’ll bet Frenchy is blowing smoke out of his ears wanting to really teach me a lesson, but maybe after he settles down he’ll realize that he’ll have his butt in a sling if he tries anything.”

“Well, hey,” Jack said, “if you want Vixen and me to come over and help you celebrate, we’re available. I got something I want to give to you, anyway.”

“I think you’d be welcome, but you better let me ask Summer. She and I are throwing together dinner for the folks, but there ought to be enough for a couple more. I’ll be right back.”

Jack put the phone to his shoulder and looked at Vixen, who had been following his side of the conversation. “Well, you booted that one,” he smiled.

“What?”

“I don’t think Alan and Summer are going to need an extra nudge to get together,” he grinned. “They’re cooking supper for them and his folks right now.”

“Hey, I never said I was perfect at predicting this stuff,” she smiled, “but that really is good news.”

“Yeah, it is,” he said, “and his personal protection order came through, so there’s that, as well. He’s not sure how well it’s going to work yet, but it’s got to take a load off his mind.”

He put the phone back to his ear just in time to hear Alan say, “Hey, Jack? ”

“Yeah?”

“Summer says it’s fine with her. She didn’t say, but I suspect she wants to talk girl talk with Vixen. Are you guys thinking about coming right over? ”

“We could,” Jack told him. “We’re not really doing anything, anyway. You want us to bring anything?”

Alan and Summer didn’t even need to talk it over; they had a mutual agreement already that they were not going to talk about their shared beliefs with anyone but themselves, at least for a while. It would not be appreciated in Spearfish Lake, and maybe even the two of them knowing about each other was one too many.

But beyond that, it had been a remarkable afternoon. Work on the game had come to a screeching halt; they hadn’t even thought about it other than to agree to work on it some other time. Alan thought, however, that it would be good to have Jack and Vixen there before his folks got home, just to give Summer and him some time to decompress a little.

A few minutes later, Jack and Vixen drove up in the Jeep. Although Alan hadn’t heard much local news during the last couple of days – he wasn’t plugged into the gossip network and didn’t really care – it was good to see them together. Jack was a nice guy and Vixen, despite her face, was a nice girl. They were good people and they deserved someone nice for each other. It wasn’t as remarkable as Summer and him finding each other, but they seemed like a good fit.

They came to the door arm in arm, Vixen with her purse thrown over her shoulder, Jack carrying a bag of chips, which seemed like a good addition to the simple outdoor meal they’d planned. He opened the door for them, and was glad to see them. It was good to have friends all of a sudden. His life had changed a lot in the last few days.

After some greetings, the four of them settled down on the back porch. It was cool and shady there, and it gave them all a chance to catch up on an eventful couple of days.

“Wow,” Vixen said when she realized that Alan and Summer had been spending a lot of time together, and she could tell from their body language that it had been some quality time. “That was quick, you two.”

“Well,” Summer said, “you know, when it rains in the desert, things bloom. You guys haven’t been doing so bad yourselves.”

“I agree, it came quickly,” Vixen said. “It must be something in the air. You won’t be able to guess who the latest hot couple is.”

“I couldn’t imagine,” Summer grinned and took a wild stab at it: “Ashley Keilhorn and someone?”

“No, Misty Frankovich, your ex-date’s little sister, is getting pretty hot and heavy with Jack’s little brother. They had a really serious lip lock last night when we took them home, and as far as we know they spent the afternoon together.”

“That’s different,” Summer smiled. “How did that happen? ”

“Wow, you have been out of touch, haven’t you?” Vixen grinned. “Howie and Misty were coming down the beach, the way I hear it, when Frenchy got into it with Misty, and Howie wound up dinging Frenchy’s knee. Now Misty thinks he’s her knight in shining armor.”

“He’d have to be, to go up against Frenchy,” Alan sneered. “I’m surprised he didn’t get dumped out on the rail grade.”

“No, there were a bunch of people around, and Cody Archer and a few others kind of drove Frenchy off, from what we heard,” Jack explained. “So while we were hanging out here, Misty was nursing her injured hero wearing a string bikini that might have enough material for a good handkerchief. I’m surprised Howie survived that.”

“That damn Frenchy,” Alan said. “He’s a real pain in the ass.”

“Yeah, I got into it with him a little yesterday morning,” Jack said. “Larry Coopshaw was heading to hold on to me so Frenchy could pound me, but Cody was there and got involved a little, too. After that, Vixen and I talked it over some and we think we’ve come up with a Frenchy deterrent. You got it, Vixen?”

She dug in her denim purse, and pulled out a spray can. “Jack got this for you, in case you need it,” she said, handing it to him.

“What is it?”

“Bear spray, it’s like Mace but packs a bigger punch,” Jack told him, and explained for a moment how to use it, but warned that using it might only serve to make things worse. “I’d say, only use it if you absolutely have to.”

“Yeah,” Alan nodded, “but I have to admit, it sure would be nice to see Frenchy get a face full of it.”

“I don’t disagree,” Jack told him, “but I think it could lead to worse problems if you used it.”

“Well, if I did have to use it on him, he’d have thirty days to get it out of his system,” Alan said flatly.

The evening went quickly, with the two young couples spending most of it on the back porch, just talking about this and that. Alan and Summer served a nice meal, hamburgers and potato salad and beans, along with the chips that Jack brought; everyone, including Alan’s parents enjoyed it, and his mother was glad to have the night off from cooking. After they ate, his parents left the four to themselves, and there was considerably more talking and laughing; the four were really becoming friends. Finally, about dark, Jack and Vixen agreed it was time to take off; they’d had an easy day, and wanted to get out birding early in the morning again. Summer decided to leave about that time, but they all agreed to get together and do it again sometime soon.

Jack backed the Jeep out onto the street and started off. “Hey,” he said as they drove away, “I wonder if it would be all right to swing by the Fiesta. I really ought to make up for that bag of chips I swiped from the folks.”

“I don’t know,” Vixen said. “Frenchy can’t be everywhere, but he could be anywhere. Really, it’s your butt you’re risking if you go by there.”

“Hell, he could see us on the street as I’m driving you home,” Jack replied. “I agree that it’s a good idea to try to stay out of sight, but we really don’t want to have to hide out all the time. It’ll only be a couple minutes, after all.”

It had been a frustrating night for Frenchy and his pals, riding around in the Eagle, looking for anyone Frenchy was pissed off at. They spent a lot of time driving around the neighborhood where Rusty lived, but if he was outside they never saw him. They hung around the Frostee Freeze quite a little, but the place was really too busy to start something, even if anyone Frenchy really had a case with had showed up. “Shit,” Frenchy said as he pulled out of the Frostee Freeze. “It’s like everybody went away and hid.”

“A lot of people know you’re pissed, Frenchy,” Matt said. “I can’t blame them for trying to lay low a little.”

“If you didn’t have them fuckin’ wraparound shades on after dark, just to look so fuckin’ cool, you might see something,” Frenchy snorted. “Jesus, this sucks. First the car, then that fuckin’ Erikson kid tearing up my knee, and now the cops watching us so close that I don’t dare get us some beer. Christ, I could stand a cold one right now.”

“Yeah, but fuck,” Larry agreed as they drove up the street. “This is fucking getting boring. I wish the fuck we could find someone.”

“Hey!” Matt said. “Isn’t that Erikson’s Jeep over in the Fiesta?”

“Fuck, you must actually be seeing something even with them fuckin’ shades on,” Frenchy snorted as they drove past the Fiesta to check it out a little more closely. “Yeah, that’s it, and that bitch that beat up Mary Lou. That fuckin’ Erikson, the one that dissed me yesterday, he’s got to be around somewhere. Anybody see any cops?”

Matt looked around. “Nope,” he said.

Larry, who was in the back, looked out the back window. “Don’t see any,” he said.

“All right, finally,” Frenchy grinned, not a happy sight for most people who saw it. “Let’s not drag this out. No talking or bullshitting, just pound him and get the fuck out.”

“He’s still in the station,” Matt pointed out.

“So I’ll go around the block,” Frenchy snarled. “I’ll pull in, block him in, and we’ll go get him. Larry, don’t drag your ass getting out of the back seat.”

The blood lust was growing in Frenchy. People had been shitting on him, laughing at him for days, and it was time to restore some order, to get people respecting him again. This was too good a chance to pass up. He took a right, then another right, then a right back onto Central that would bring him back out at the Fiesta. “One more time,” he said. “Anybody see any cops?”

“Don’t see any,” Matt said.

“Clear to the rear,” Larry agreed. “Let’s go get ’em.”

Frenchy whipped the Eagle into the Fiesta lot, spotted the Jeep, and pulled up behind it, slamming on the brake to come to a stop, just as Jack was getting into the Jeep. He threw open his door, on the far side, as Matt was piling out the door on the side of the Jeep with Larry right behind him. He ran around the Eagle, heading for Jack just as Matt and Larry were getting to him. He didn’t notice the bitch standing up, but did notice when Matt covered his face and turned away, and Larry let out a huge yell of pain. What the fuck? He thought as he ran closer, looking more at the guys than at the bitch.

“Larry! Matt! What the fuck?” he yelled, and turned toward Jack and Vixen. “What the fuck did you do to them? I’m gonna fuckin’ kill . . . ” he managed to say before he saw Vixen raise her arm, and his face exploded in pure pain.

“Jack!” Vixen yelled. “Let’s get the hell out of here! ”

“Right,” Jack said. “He’s got me blocked in!” He looked around, and concluded that he wasn’t really blocked in; the only thing that separated him from the lawn beside the Fiesta was a concrete bump stop, and this was a Jeep, after all. He dropped it into first, bumped up onto the bump stop with the front wheels, fell off the far side, then the same with the rear wheels. He was clear now; he whipped the wheel over, pointing toward the street, and stood on the gas. In a moment, they were around the corner and away from the sight of Larry and Frenchy writhing in pain on the concrete, while Matt had his face buried in his hands.

“Shit!” he said. “That happened fast! Jesus, you did good with that stuff, Vixen. I guess it really does work.”

“Looks like it,” she said, just a little bit smugly. “You think maybe we ought to call the cops?”

“Yeah, we might as well,” Jack said. “I don’t know how much trouble we’re going to get into for doing that to them, but it’s likely to be less trouble than we’d have had from those jokers.”

This work is licensed under a
Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.