Club Dead (Sookie Stackhouse #3)(59)
Author: Charlaine Harris

"What happened to the ones who did?"

"You better not think about it too much."

"At least he does some things right."

"I’m not gonna see him anymore."

"Uh-huh. I’ve heard that before."

He had a point. "For a while," I said firmly.

"Sam said you’d gone off with Alcide Herveaux."

"Sam shouldn’t have told you."

"Hell, I’m your brother. I need to know who you’re going around with."

"It was business," I said, trying a little smile on for size.

"You going into surveying?"

"You know Alcide?"

"Who doesn’t, at least by name? Those Herveauxes, they’re well known. Tough guys. Good to work for. Rich."

"He’s a nice guy."

"He coming around anymore? I’d like to meet him. I don’t want to be on a road crew working for the parish my whole life."

That was news to me. "Next time I see him, I’ll call you. I don’t know if he’ll be stopping by anytime soon, but if he does, you’ll know about it."

"Good." Jason glanced around. "What happened to the rug?"

I noticed a spot of blood on the couch, about where Eric had leaned. I sat down so my legs were covering it. "The rug? I spilled some tomato sauce on it. I was eating spaghetti out here while I watched TV."

"So you took it to get it cleaned?"

I didn’t know how to answer. I didn’t know if that was what the vampires had done with the rug, or if it’d had to be torched. "Yes," I said, with some hesitation. "But they may not be able to get the stain out, they said."

"New gravel looks good."

I stared at him in gape-mouthed surprise. "What?"

He looked at me as if I were a fool. "The new gravel. On the driveway. They did a good job, getting it level. Not a single pothole."

Completely forgetting the bloodstain, I heaved myself up from the couch with some difficulty and peered out the front window, this time really looking.

Not only was the driveway done, but also there was a new parking area in front of the house. It was outlined with landscaping timbers. The gravel was the very expensive kind, the kind that’s supposed to interlock so it doesn’t roll out of the desired area. I put my hand over my mouth as I calculated how much it had cost. "It’s done like that all the way to the road?" I asked Jason, my voice hardly audible.

"Yeah, I saw the Burgess and Sons crew out here when I drove by earlier," he said slowly. "Didn’t you fix it up to have it done?"

I shook my head.

"Damn, they did it by mistake?" Quick to rage, Jason flushed. "I’ll call that Randy Burgess and ream his ass. Don’t you pay the bill! Here’s the note that was stuck to the front door." Jason pulled a rolled receipt from his front pocket. "Sorry, I was going to hand that to you before I noticed your face."

I unrolled the yellow sheet and read the note scribbled across it. "Sookie – Mr. Northman said not to knock on your door, so I’m sticking this to it. You may need this in case something is wrong. Just call us. Randy."

"It’s paid for," I said, and Jason calmed a little.

"The boyfriend? The ex?"

I remembered screaming at Eric about my driveway. "No," I said. "Someone else." I caught myself wishing the man who’d been so thoughtful had been Bill.

"You sure are getting around these days," Jason said. He didn’t sound as judgmental as I expected, but then Jason was shrewd enough to know he could hardly throw many stones.

I said flatly, "No, I’m not."

He eyed me for a long moment. I met his gaze. "Okay," he said slowly. "Then someone owes you, big time."

"That would be closer to the truth," I said, and wondered in turn if I myself was being truthful. "Thanks for getting my mail for me, Big Bro. I need to crawl back in bed."

"No problem. You want to go to the doctor?"

I shook my head. I couldn’t face the waiting room.

"Then you let me know if you need me to get you some groceries."

"Thanks," I said again, with more pleasure. "You’re a good brother." To our mutual surprise, I stood on tiptoe and gave him a kiss on the cheek. He awkwardly put his arm around me, and I made myself keep the smile on my face, rather than wincing from the pain.

"Get back in bed, Sis," he said, shutting the door behind him carefully. I noticed he stood on the porch for a full minute, surveying all that premium gravel. Then he shook his head and got back into his pickup, always clean and gleaming, the pink and aqua flames startling against the black paint that covered the rest of the truck.

I watched a little television. I tried to eat, but my face hurt too much. I felt lucky when I discovered some yogurt in the refrigerator.

A big pickup pulled up to the front of the house about three o’clock. Alcide got out with my suitcase. He knocked softly.

He might be happier if I didn’t answer, but I figured I wasn’t in the business of making Alcide Herveaux happy, and I opened the door.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," he said, not irreverently, as he took me in.

"Come in," I said, through jaws that were getting so sore I could barely part them. I knew I’d said I’ll call Jason if Alcide came by; but Alcide and I needed to talk.

He came in and stood looking at me. Finally, he put the suitcase back in my room, fixed me a big glass of iced tea with a straw in it, and put it on the table by the couch. My eyes filled with tears. Not everyone would have realized that a hot drink made my swollen face hurt.

"Tell me what happened, chere," he said, sitting on the couch beside me. "Here, put your feet up while you do." He helped me swivel sideways and lay my legs over his lap. I had plenty of pillows propped behind me, and I did feel comfortable, or as comfortable as I was going to feel for a couple of days.

I told him everything.

"So, you think they’ll come after me in Shreveport?" he asked. He didn’t seem to be blaming me for bringing all this on his head, which frankly I’d half expected.

I shook my head helplessly. "I just don’t know. I wish we knew what had really happened. That might get them off our backs."

"Weres are nothing if not loyal," Alcide said.

I took his hand. "I know that."

Alcide’s green eyes regarded me steadily.

"Debbie asked me to kill you," he said.

For a moment I felt cold down to my bones. "What did you tell her back?" I asked, through stiff lips.

"I told her she could go f**k herself, excuse my language."