Amber, call the police. I aimed at the ground between us and pulled the trigger. The shot cracked through the neighborhood like thunder. Curtis stumbled backward and I noticed a dark stain spreading across the front of his expensive pants. He'd wet himself.
Next time I won't aim low, I said. Curtis scrambled into his BMW, his hands shaking so badly he could barely get the key in the ignition. Amber ran after him. Her heels clicking on the asphalt. She threw a desperate look back at me then made her choice and got in the passenger seat.
I watched them drive away, their tail lights disappearing around the corner. Then I turned to Tess who was still filming from the porch. If either of you comes back here, I called loud enough for the whole neighborhood to hear, I'll be waiting. Inside, the smell of gunpowder hung in the air mixing with Amber's lingering perfume. The police sergeant who showed up was Danny Morrison, a guy I'd gone to high school with.
He took one look at the bullet hole in the asphalt, Curtis's abandoned dignity, and me sitting calmly on the steps. "Warning shot? " he asked. "Warning shot. " I confirmed. "Anybody hurt? " "Just some pride in a pair of pants. " Danny wrote it up as a domestic disturbance with no charges filed, since I'd fired into the ground on my own property and no one had been threatened with bodily harm. "Nick. " Danny said as he was leaving, "Maybe next time try a conversation first. " I did.
It lasted about 30 seconds. The first few days passed in a blur of bitter coffee and bitter decisions. I gave away most of Amber's clothes to Goodwill and threw the rest into Riverside Pond. Her makeup collection went straight into the trash. On Thursday, three motorcycles roared into my driveway.
The lead rider pulled off his helmet, revealing a familiar face covered in tattoos, Uncle Nick. My 25-year-old nephew Tyler grinned, showing off a gold tooth. "Heard you had some excitement. " Tyler ran with a motorcycle club called the Iron Ravens. "What do you want, Tyler? " "Curtis Brennan hired us to come have a talk with you. Paid us 500 bucks to explain how things are going to be. " Tyler reached into his jacket and pulled out a roll of bills.
"See, Curtis didn't know you were family when he hired us. And family trumps cash every time. We're returning his money with interest. Told him any man who makes another man piss himself in his own driveway deserves respect. " "So what's the plan, Uncle Nick? " Tyler asked. "You want us to pay Curtis a visit? " "Not yet. " I said, "but stick around town.
I might need some witnesses. " That weekend, I spotted Curtis's BMW parked outside room 12 at the Riverside Motel, a dive that rented rooms by the hour, right next to Amber's Honda. I called Tyler and 20 minutes later, we were set up across the street like a dysfunctional surveillance team. Tyler's crew brought high-tech video gear streaming the feed directly online in real time. At 3:47 p.m., Curtis emerged from the room followed by Amber. They were laughing, completely oblivious.
"Dirty Laundry Live! " Tyler announced to his followers. "Broadcasting from scenic Riverside Motel, where love goes to die. " The viewer count skyrocketed from 50 to hundreds in minutes. The comment section exploded. They kissed goodbye like teenagers before driving off, completely unaware that half the town was watching them. "Stream's over," Tyler announced, "but it's saved to 15 different platforms. " That night, my phone rang off the hook.
The last call came at midnight from Amber, who screamed into the receiver, "How could you do something so cruel? Curtis is furious. His wife saw the video. " "Curtis has a wife? " I asked. "Guess you're not as special as you thought. " I hung up and poured myself a whiskey. Monday morning, Curtis sent me a text from an unknown number.