I don't remember much of what followed at the bar. I remember asking for the tab and Sawyer stepping in to say that anyone who was a friend of Fred and Creepy didn't have to pay. At that point I was too drunk to argue. Bryan stayed with me, though I never asked him to, but I think he felt responsible. The only reason why I didn't complain was that he didn't interfere with anything I did, he just watched, and made sure that I didn't come to any harm. He shouldn't have worried, I get calmer the more that I drink, I'm not the sort to go out beat someone up after I've had a few. Instead, once I was fully drunk, all I wanted to do was go home and go to bed. Bryan agreed that that was for the best as well, and offered to drive me home in his car. I think that was mostly so that he could continue to keep an eye on me though.
Once I got home I managed to get my coat and pants off without demeaning myself by needing Bryan's help. I had sobered up some on the ride. Bryan however didn't leave, even after I had crawled into bed. Instead he found my love seat and a spare blanket and curled up. I was too tired to ask him to leave and not sure if I even wanted him to. We didn't talk any more that night, we both fell into deep, whiskey caused slumber.
I did not wake up in the best mood, to say the least. I always get hangovers when I drink too heavily, and I should have known better. From the look of Bryan he was fine though, well that stood to reason with the crowd he ran with he would never be able to do any jobs if he suffered from drinking like I did. He made breakfast for both of us in my tiny kitchen.
“Been a long time since I cooked,” he commented. “Usually we either go out to eat or Ma makes us food. Hope you don't mind you're eggs a bit brown.”
“Stop calling her Ma,” I snapped, clutching my head. I could only hope that the coffee would be done soon. “She isn't your mother, you're mother is still in Indiana, telling her neighbors that you sell furniture up here.”
“She hasn't got the right to complain. She lives in style thanks to the money I send her. Besides, all of the neighbors know what I do because of the G-men who hang around, they're just too polite to call her a liar. I call Ma Barker Ma because that's what all the guys call her and she takes care of all of us when we're around, in a strange possessive way. She's too stupid to take seriously, that's for sure. Take the Old Man Dunlap thing, from what I've heard he was horrible to her but she stuck with him, she didn't have to. Oh Jet, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have said that.” Bryan looked horribly embarrassed as he set a mug of coffee in front of me.
“Look, I've calmed down, I just hadn't really had to face Uncle Art's murder until this point. Seems like everyone knew more about him then I did. Just what is the gossip around the gang about him? And I don't want you to be nice. I can take it.” I wondered if I could, but it was time to find out. I mean everyone was acting like I was being stupid, and I wanted to find out if I was. I was armed with coffee, was too hung over to shout, and I figured it was better to hear a dead relative torn apart by an old friend rather than his murderer.
To be continued...
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