“Having a better job would sure make things here at home a lot easier.” Hutch glanced toward the back of the house, where Donna Dee was sulking. “I’d do just about anything to get into the sheriff’s department.”
Neal gave him a sly smile and slapped him lightly on the cheek. “That’s what we’re counting on, Hutch. That’s what we’re counting on.”
* * *
Ivan was relaxing in his den with a glass of Jack Daniels when Neal got home. He strolled in and headed straight for the liquor cabinet. Maintaining the suspense, he fixed himself a drink.
Ivan, having enough of it, tossed aside his newspaper and asked, “Well, did he go for it?”
“Daddy, he swallowed the bait like a starving catfish.”
Ivan’s palm struck the armrest of the leather sofa. “Damn! That’s good news. I can’t wait to personally boot out the bastard that’s in there now. We’ll have to take it slow, of course. Hutch’ll start out as a deputy and work his way up. Let’s say a year, eighteen months at most, and we ought to be sitting pretty as far as local law enforcement goes.”
Neal saluted his father with his glass. “You might be old, but you’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve.”
“Old, hell,” Ivan bellowed. “I can still outmaneuver, outdrink, and outfornicate men twenty years younger than me.”
“Maybe some men twenty years younger than you,” Neal smirked.
Ivan glared at him. “Listen to me, boy. As far as the drinking and whoring go, you seem to be doing all right. But don’t forget the maneuvering. You don’t spend enough time working. You’ve got to put work before whiskey and women, or you’re sunk before you even venture into the water.”
“I work,” Neal said sullenly. “I went to the plant three days this week.”
“And spent the other four wearing out the tread on the tires of that new car I bought you.”
“What good does it do me to put in an appearance at the factory? You’re still the boss. And you shoot down every idea I come up with.”
Looking disgruntled, Ivan thrust out his empty glass. “Get me another whiskey.” Neal did as he was told, but he didn’t do it graciously.
Ivan sipped his fresh drink. “For the time being, I see no need to spend money on improving or expanding the business. But I have been giving our future a lot of thought lately and have decided it’s time you got married.”
Neal was caught raising his highball glass to his mouth. He froze, leveling his eyes on his father. “You decided what?”
“It’s time you got married.”
“Go screw yourself.”
“I won’t have that sass from you,” Ivan thundered, pounding the armrest with his fist. “Right now all you’re fit for is driving fast, drinking hard, and running with loose women.” Ivan aimed his blunt index finger at his son. “If you want to be respected and feared, the first step is to get married.”
“What makes you think I want a whining wife hanging around my neck? That kind of life is for dumb sons of bitches like Hutch. I like my life the way it is.”
“Then I guess you’re not bothered by the gossip about Lamar and you.”
Neal’s reaction was prickly and swift. “What gossip?”
Now that he was assured of Neal’s attention, Ivan leaned back against the sofa cushions in a more relaxed posture. “Y’all ran around together ever since you were kids. Folks are going to find it hard to believe that you didn’t know he was queer.” Ivan peered at his son from beneath his brows. “I’m kinda wondering about that myself.”
“Get on with it, old man,” Neal said in a dangerous tone.
“Y’all did live together, alone. Now that Lamar’s perversion has become public knowledge, it’s just a matter of time before folks start speculating about you.”
Neal’s anger was evident only through his eyes, which had narrowed to slits. “Anybody who would think me queer has to be crazy. There are at least a hundred women within the city limits of this town alone who know damn good and well I’m straight. You’re just blowing smoke so I’ll bend to your will.”
Ivan’s voice remained calm. “You told me yourself that Lamar had women while y’all were at college. Folks might assume your philandering is just a cover-up, too.” He took a sip of his drink, but his calculating eyes never strayed from Neal.
“That boy of Myrajane’s was more fucked up than Hogan’s goat. I don’t want folks to say the same about my boy.” He nodded sagely. “A wife would nip the gossip in the bud. It’d be even better if a baby came along nine months after the wedding.” Drawing a deep, contented breath, he gazed around the room. “I’m gonna hate like hell to die, boy. I don’t want to give up a single thing that belongs to me.” His shrewd eyes swung back to his son. “I could go a lot more gracefully if I knew that I was leaving behind a dynasty.”
He turned the full force of his malevolence onto his son. “The only thing that’s standing between me and a guarantee of immortality is you. The very least you can do is go to work on making a son and heir.”