Page 62 of Bad Medicine

“Oh, sorry. This is JoePatrick. Joe, you remember Mason.”

“Yeah,” Joe said, and stuck outhis hand. “Good to see you.”

He was a little slow about it,but finally, Mason shook Joe’s hand. They were nearly the same height, similarbuild, both big and muscular and scary to look at, but Mason had shaggysalt-and-pepper hair where Joe was bald.

Mason released Joe’s hand andstepped back. “Let me buy you both a drink,” he said. “You want to go to thebar or come to my office?”

In other words, were we therefor pleasure, or business?

“I’d like to ask a couple ofquestions,” I told him. “If you don’t mind.”

He pointed at my lower belly,and it took me a minute to realize he was indicating the badge the council hadgiven me. “I can’t say no to that.” He didn’t become suddenly unfriendly, butthere was a little coolness to his stare.

“Shit,” I said, un-clipping thebadge and slipping it into my pocket. “Sorry. I forgot about it. And you canabsolutely say no if you’d rather not talk.” If Joe was right and I was so easyto read, Mason would know I was being earnest.

Mason gave me a nod. “Iappreciate that. Come on back. Let’s talk.”

The bar was packed, but for themost part, everyone who looked at me offered a smile or a nod. No one seemedovertly unfriendly, but there was an air of suppressed violence that let meknow things could change real damn fast.

But just as we reached the endof the bar and started toward the back of the building and Mason’s privatearea, someone decided to be an ass. I wasn’t really surprised.

A man about thirty or so,wearing a brown cowboy hat, cowboy boots, and jeans that were a little too newleaned out from the line of people at the bar. He ran his stare up and down mybody, his lip curled. “I smell the cop on you, bitch. You need to be carefularound here. We protect our own.”

I walked on, unconcerned, butMason stopped. “I apologize for the disrespect,” he told me, genuinely upset.

“No need,” I said.

But he ignored me. “Brownie,”he roared.

The place went deathly silent.No one even moved. “Oh shit, Mason,” the dude at the bar cried, into thatsilence. “I’m sorry, man. Don’t—”

“Shut up,” Mason said.

I heard a door slam and suddenlya tiny woman was whirling through the room like a fuzzy-haired tornado—aspatula in one hand and a beer in the other. She stopped in front of the apparentlyterrified man who was trying to disappear between the two bulkier men on eitherside of him.

“What is it?” she snapped, herquick brown eyes taking in the cringing cowboy, Mason, and me and Joe at thesame time, it seemed to me.

“Gary here disrespected ourguests,” Mason told her, his brows low. “This is Kait Silver. Gary called her abitch and threatened her.”

“Oh he did, did he?” She downedher beer, tossed the empty bottle to one of the people at the bar, then reachedup to grab Gary’s ear. “Get in the kitchen.”

“Brownie…come on.”

So she proceeded to teach him alesson right then and there, slapping him with her spatula as she lectured himon the way to treat customers, women, and people in general. The guffawsthroughout the room drowned out his yelps and whining, and I wasn’t surewhether to laugh or cringe. I glanced at Joe, but he swallowed hard and kepthis stare straight ahead.

“Brownie’s like everybody’sma,” Mason said. “You get out of line and she puts you back inrealquick. And she’ll make you feel like you’re ten years old while she’s doing it.The customers love her. And,” he said, opening his office door and ushering usinside, “are terrified of her at the same time.”

“No one has ever hurt her?” Iasked. “She’s so…small.”

He went to sit behind a messydesk and pointed to the hard chairs before it. “One time a fellow with angerissues fucked up the bartender. Threw a bottle at her and busted her lip.Brownie was in the room when it happened, and let me tell you, she didn’t goafter him with a spatula. But he took offense to a little woman beating thehell out of him, and he punched Brownie in the face. Broke her eye socket.”

“Oh no,” I said. “That’sawful.”

He nodded. “That fellow’s ear,tongue, and three of his fingers hung on the wall as a warning until theyrotted away. No one touches Brownie. They take what she dishes out, and shedoesn’t kick their asses unless they deserve it.”

Joe cleared his throat.“You…uh…chopped that fellow up?”

“Oh, no, not me. The regularswho saw it happened tore him to pieces.” He leaned toward us. “You don’t fuckwith Brownie.”