“How’s it hanging?” Finley asked.
Trevor Duckworth spun around. “Hey, good, Mr. Finley. Things are good.”
“I told you before, you call me Randy.”
“Randy, yeah. Just did a run, left the truck at the dock so they can load it up again. Think I’m doing a run to Syracuse today.”
“Sounds good, sounds good.” Finley’s smile was wide enough to show off his crooked teeth. “I was gonna get myself some horrible coffee. Want a cup?”
Trevor didn’t, but it didn’t seem like a good idea to say no. Finley went over to the coffee machine sitting on a table in the corner of the room, glanced into two empty mugs to see whether they were relatively clean, and filled them.
“You know, I make this coffee with our own springwater, and it still tastes like shit. What do you take?”
“Some milk, if you’ve got it.”
“That all?”
“Yeah?”
“Because I usually add something a bit stronger.” He went over to his desk, opened a drawer, and took out a bottle of whiskey. He poured a shot into the coffee, held out the bottle to Trevor, and said, “You?”
“No, sir. I mean, no, thanks, Randy. I’m heading back out soon.”
“Of course you are,” he said, and tucked the bottle back into his drawer. He came around the desk and parked his butt on the edge, took a sip. “It does make bad coffee better. There’s not much it doesn’t make better.”
Trevor smiled as he took a sip out of his mug. The boss was right. It was bad.
“You’re working out real good,” Finley said. “I’ve been asking around, and everyone’s happy with you. I mean, you’re new, and you still got time to fuck up, but so far, so good.” Finley laughed.
“I’m glad to have a job,” Trevor said. “I like driving around. It gives you time to think.”
“Sure, it would. You got a lot on your mind?”
“Not really.”
“When I was your age, what I had on my mind most was *.” He laughed. “Not that anything has really changed. But I am, for the purposes of the official record, a happily married man.”
“Yeah, well, you know.”
“And I don’t mean to brag, but I got my fair share of it,” he said. Patting his belly, he said, “Hard to believe, but at one time I cut a slightly more dashing figure. These days, looking down, I can’t even find my cock. Even when it’s standing at attention.” Another grin. “But as long as someone can find it, then all’s right with the world.”
“Sure,” Trevor said.
Finley pointed a friendly finger toward him. “But I’ll tell you this. I may come across sometimes as a bit of a pig, but—”
“Not at all.”
“But I always treat women with respect. When men get together, sure, we may say the odd comment a woman might interpret as disrespectful, but we don’t mean it that way, do we?”
“No,” Trevor said.
“But when we’re with them, we treat them right. That’s what I do. I admit, there was an incident a few years ago you may have heard about. I accidentally hurt a young woman—”
“I remember something about that,” Trevor said. “Wasn’t she fifteen?” He hadn’t meant anything by it, then realized he might be coming off as judgmental. So he quickly added, “But I could be wrong about that.”
“No, no, you’re right. My weaknesses have been well documented. I did end up striking this woman, but it was a reflexive action caused by some carelessness on her part during a moment of intimacy.”
Trevor looked at him, not comprehending.
Finley said, “She bit my dick.” When Trevor had nothing to say, the former mayor continued. “So I can understand when even a well-intentioned man such as yourself can have a moment when he makes an error in judgment.”
Trevor felt his insides weaken.
“You probably don’t know this, but the Vandenburgs have been friends of mine going way back. Did you know that?”
Trevor shook his head.
“I’ve known Patricia—Trish—since she was a little girl. An adorable child, and a lovely young woman. It was a shame, what happened between you two.”
Trevor Duckworth said, “I . . . I don’t see . . . I should go.”
“No, you stay right here. In fact, why don’t you close the door. Yeah, that’s good. It’s better to be able to talk in private.” He took another sip of his spiked coffee. “I believe, every once in a while, people deserve a break. The benefit of the doubt. I’m betting you never, ever meant to hurt that girl.”
“It was . . .”
“An accident? Well, I’m not sure you’d call it that. It’s not like you ran into the back of her with a shopping cart at the grocery store, is it?”
Trevor’s face flushed. “I never . . . I mean, I told her I was sorry.”
“Have you considered how lucky you were?” Finley asked. “That she didn’t have you charged? Because I can tell you, she did think about it.” He paused. “I guess you didn’t know that hiring you was the second favor I had done for you.”
“I don’t understand.”