Chương 2
Nobody cheered.
Gideon was grateful for that.
Real violence did not deserve applause.
Briggs made a sound somewhere between a curse and a grunt.
"Get off me."
"Gladly."
Gideon released him and backed away.
Briggs straightened.
A red streak crossed the front of his contracting jacket where it had landed in barbecue sauce.
For one absurd second, he looked down at it.
The humiliation hurt him more than the restraint had.
"Boss," one of his crewmen said quietly.
"Shut up, Dale."
Dale shut up.
Briggs lunged again.
This time there was no punch.
He simply came forward with both arms, trying to drive Gideon backward through weight.
Gideon turned, hooked a leg, and redirected him.
Briggs went down on one knee.
Gideon caught his jacket before his head struck the edge of the table.
That reflex surprised Briggs more than being dropped had.
For an instant they looked at each other.
"You just stopped me from cracking my skull," Briggs said.
"Yeah."
"Why?"
Gideon let go of the jacket.
"Because I'm not trying to hurt you."
Briggs's confusion lasted perhaps a second.
Then anger reclaimed the space.
One of the crewmen started forward.
Dale caught his arm.
"Don't."
"What?"
"Just don't, Travis."
Briggs climbed to his feet.
His breathing had become heavy.
Gideon's had not.
That difference finally seemed to register with the four men.
So did the scar through Gideon's eyebrow.
So did the way he stood.
None of those things proved anything, but together they encouraged caution.
The woman came around the table.
Her keys were now inside her closed fist.
"Enough."
Briggs looked at her.
"You started this."
Her face went still.
"No."
The single word landed harder than shouting would have.
"You sat at my table after I told you not to."
She kept her voice low.
"You took my keys after I told you to leave me alone."
She looked toward Warren.
"The manager watched you do it."
Warren's mouth opened.
Nothing came out.
Several customers turned toward him.
That was when Warren finally lifted the phone.
"I'm calling the police."
Briggs laughed once.
It sounded forced.
"Over keys?"
"Over you refusing to leave," Warren said.
His voice shook, but the second sentence came stronger.
"And assaulting a customer."
Briggs stared at him.
"You serious?"
Warren swallowed.
"Yes."
Something shifted in the room.
Not courage exactly.
Courage was too clean a word for what happened when people discovered they might not be standing alone anymore.
The father who had turned away from the confrontation now raised his hand.
"I saw him take the keys."
His wife looked at him sharply.
He lowered his hand but didn't withdraw the statement.
One of the older women at the counter said, "So did I."
The other woman beside her muttered, "Marlene, don't get involved."
"I'm already involved."
"How?"
"I was sitting here."
"That's not how involvement works."
"It's how mine works."
Under different circumstances, Gideon might have smiled.
Briggs pointed at Warren.
"You know how much business my crews bring in here?"
Warren looked miserable.
Probably because he did know.
"Leave, Briggs."
"You banning me?"
"Tonight I'm asking you to leave."
"That's not what I asked."
Warren rubbed his forehead.
"I don't know what I'm doing tomorrow."
It was perhaps the most truthful thing anyone had said all evening.
Briggs looked around the restaurant.
For the first time since entering, he seemed to understand that size had stopped being the only fact in the room.
Phones had appeared.
Not many.
Two that Gideon could see.
Maybe three.
Briggs noticed them too.
"Put those damn things away."
A teenager near the wall lowered his phone.
Another customer did not.
Gideon checked the clock again.
6:55.
This was becoming a scheduling problem.
Briggs saw him look.
"You got somewhere to be?"
"Yes."
"What, another restaurant where you play hero?"
"My daughter's piano lesson."
The answer seemed to disappoint Briggs.
Maybe he'd expected something more dramatic.
"You're kidding."
"No."
Briggs stared at him for another moment, then wiped barbecue sauce from his jacket with his palm.
It only spread the stain.
Dale quietly offered him a napkin.
Briggs slapped it away.
"I'm done."
He turned toward the door.
His crew hesitated.
That hesitation stopped him.
He looked back.
"You coming?"
Three moved immediately.
Dale remained beside the table.
"Give me a second."
Briggs's face hardened.
"Dale."
"I said give me a second."
It was not loud.
Perhaps that was why it worked.
Briggs walked out.
The other three followed.
Through the front windows, Gideon watched them cross the parking lot.
Only when Briggs reached a black pickup did Gideon turn away.
Dale was staring at the floor.
"I'm sorry," he told the woman.
She studied him.
"For what?"
Dale rubbed the back of his neck.
"I don't know."
He looked toward the door.
"For not stopping it before, I guess."
"Has he done this before?"
Dale's eyes lifted.
That was answer enough.
He shook his head almost imperceptibly.
"I should go."
Then he did.
The restaurant gradually remembered how to make noise.
Conversations restarted in fragments.
Someone's fork clinked against a plate.
The baseball game continued above the bar as if none of them had mattered.
Warren was speaking rapidly into his phone.
The woman stood beside her ruined dinner.
Water had soaked through the tablecloth and was dripping from one corner onto the floor.
Gideon returned to his table.
His ribs had gone cold.
He picked one up anyway.
"You're going back to eating?"
He looked over.
The woman had followed him.
"I paid for it."
For the first time, her expression loosened.
Not quite a smile.
Close.
"You could have been hurt."
"So could he."
"That isn't what I meant."
"I know."
She looked toward the entrance.
"Briggs isn't harmless."
"Didn't seem harmless."
"You don't understand."
Gideon checked the clock.
6:59.
"I've got twenty-six minutes to understand almost anything."
That produced the smile.
It disappeared quickly.
"My name is Evelyn Mercer."
"Gideon Ror."
May you like
She waited.
He took another bite.
