Page 50 of Sweet T
“Well, get it, Ms. Hawthorne.”
Tucker chuckled. “It’s a long story... for another time.”
* * *
When they reached the square from the opposite side, Tucker turned right again. They passed the George D. Lattimore Bank and The Train Stop store.
“Wait a minute,” Evan said. “There’s a train store?”
“Yep. Jeb Walters owns it. He’s kind of an asshole.”
“How are you kind of an asshole?”
“I don’t know from personal experience, but Chuck told me he was. I trust Chuck’s assessment.”
“You know, maybe you’re a part of the gossip mill in this town.”
Tucker chuckled. “Everyone is, I suppose—either directly or indirectly. The question is whether you speak the truth or hearsay.”
“What if someone doesn’t want their truth told?”
“Then they’re discreet,” Tucker said, casting Evan a side grin. “Not prancing around naked.”
“Haha.”
“Yeah, I’m joking. Folks are nosy. It’s natural. And most of the gossip is harmless, curiosity or maybe insecurity—not wanting to feel left out of the loop. But if you don’t want something known, that secret begins and ends with you.”
“Wise words from a quiet man.”
Tucker stopped the truck in the middle of the street. There was no traffic on the square to consider. He turned to Evan. “I’m just trying to acclimate you to your surroundings. You’re going to be working at the tavern starting tomorrow, around many people. You’re a friendly guy, open. Just be conscious of what you say to whom. That’s all.”
“Protective too. Are you worried people will discover we’re sleeping under the same roof?”
“Hell no. That news is already out. Guaranteed. You’ve seen how fast word travels around here. What I’m saying is I don’t know every single person who comes into my tavern... and your face is still a little rough looking.”
Evan touched his lip absently. He never really considered appearance unless confronted with it in a mirror. “I don’t think the guy that did this lives here, T. That’d be a big coincidence.”
“Is it? You said he was only going halfway to Atlanta... that when he exited, he took secondary roads. So, he was familiar with where he was going. Even if he doesn’t live here, he could easily know someone that does. Word travels fast, remember?”
“So, what are you saying?”
“I’m saying if we’re not going to tell the police, I think we should play it down, at least until you're healed.”
“I’ll just wear makeup.”
Tucker stared blankly.
“Relax. I do it all the time on stage. Just a little foundation, something in my natural skin tone that will cover the black eye. Of course, a little lipstick and rouge would be nice. Ooh, and maybe a smoky-eye with some dark mascara.”
The look on Tucker’s face transformed from mild alarm to outright horror. Evan could no longer hold his laughter. “Relax,” he chuckled. “I’m just kidding. Oh, my God. Your face. Hilarious.”
“I’m so glad I amuse you.”
“I was serious about the foundation, though. We can get it when we’re at Walmart. You won’t even know I’m wearing it.”
“Whatever. You can also work in the back with Ben. You’ll stay out of sight while Shelly and I work the bar.”
“You’re the boss. However, I’m very social and a bit of a ham. Good luck with restraining me.”