Dead Woman Crossing by J.R. Adler (best management books of all time txt) 📕

couple of times. These places never changed. The same townies frequented them. They sat in their same spots. Country music played on the jukebox, the same musicians from Alan Jackson to Garth Brooks. The same poker machine was still broken. The same men played a game of pool. The same women lingered nearby. The same dipshit Ryan tended bar. There was only one thing different, out of place, and that was Sam, who was bellied up to the bar with a glass of whiskey that was half full.

Kimberley walked over to him cautiously. She wasn’t sure what kind of reaction she’d get out of him. Would he be the ornery dick bag from earlier today or would he be the kind, respectful man she had come to know? She glanced over at Ryan who gave her a scowl mixed with a leer as if his dick and brain were crossing wires and didn’t know how to respond to her.

“Sam,” Kimberley said, taking a seat beside him.

He looked over at her and nodded.

“Thought you said only the town troublemakers drink here,” she teased, trying to open him up, put him in a better mood.

“You spend enough time being a cop, you get more comfortable being around the troublemakers than the normal people,” he said, taking a drink of his whiskey. He didn’t react to the taste of it, so she assumed he had had a couple already.

“I can’t argue with that.”

“To what do I owe the pleasure today?” Ryan asked.

“Cut the shit, Ryan. She’ll have what I’m having and without any of your grimy come-ons or flirty wanna-be hard-ass bullshit,” Sam cut in.

Ryan nodded, taken aback, and immediately poured a neat scotch, placing it in front of Kimberley without a word.

“Thanks,” Kimberley said to Sam as she picked up the glass and took a sip.

“Yep,” was all he managed to say.

“How is he even working?” Kimberley glared at Ryan.

“Innocent until proven guilty.”

They sat there in silence for several minutes, drinking their whiskey, fiddling with their glasses, and occasionally glancing over at one another. Kimberley couldn’t tell if Sam wanted her there or not. But on some level, she thought he needed her there right now, next to him, quiet, just her presence. He hadn’t asked her to leave. He hadn’t been rude.

“How’s Jessica been?” Sam asked, looking over at Kimberley.

She hadn’t seen it before, but there was a sadness in his eyes—glossy, red around the rims, strained.

“She’s been real good. Spending a lot of time with my mom, and they seem to be bonding.”

Kimberley took another sip of her whiskey. They hadn’t really talked much about their personal lives, aside from their first introduction, which was rather surface level. But this was probably good for their working relationship, to at least know some things about the other person’s life when not in uniform.

“I know you moved here, just the two of you, what’s the story with Jessica’s father? If you don’t mind saying, of course.”

Any other time, Kimberley might have thought the question was too personal, but she knew Sam was going somewhere. There was something he wanted to talk about, something he wanted to tell her, and he was just going about it in a roundabout way.

“Yeah, well, we broke up. And he didn’t have an interest in being in Jessica’s life.”

Sam clenched his fist and then brought the glass of whiskey up to his mouth with his other hand, downing the whole thing in one gulp. He set the empty glass down with such force, it made a loud thud, gaining Ryan’s attention from the other side of the bar. Without Sam asking, Ryan made his way over and refilled his drink, not saying a word.

“He’s an asshole,” Sam said, gritting his teeth.

Kimberley nodded. “Yes, he is. He didn’t even want to me to have her. Pushed for an abortion all the way up until I was twenty-four weeks along. It’s not legal to have one after that, so he stopped pushing, but I always felt like he was secretly wishing I’d fall down a flight of stairs or miscarry.” Kimberley washed the sour taste that had formed in her mouth with a sip of whiskey.

“I’m sorry. That’s fucking awful.”

“After she was born, he did a one-eighty. I thought he had changed. He was super attentive. But a few weeks in, I found Jessica lying on the living-room floor in the middle of the night. He just left her there. Decided it was too much and didn’t have the fucking common courtesy to put her back in her crib or wake me up.” Kimberley took a gulp of her whiskey, thankful for the burn it provided.

“What I wouldn’t give to be able to be in my kid’s life,” Sam said under his breath, loud enough for Kimberley to hear it, but it took her a few seconds to register exactly what he said. He took another sip of his whiskey and lowered his head, slightly shaking it. His shoulders dropped.

“What do you mean?” Kimberley asked carefully.

“Nothing. I don’t know what I’m saying,” he said, sipping his whiskey, staring straight ahead at the shelves filled with bottles of liquor.

Kimberley didn’t press. She let Sam sit beside her, working through whatever it was he was working through. Something had happened. Maybe not today, but it had. It had changed his whole mood, made him abrasive and rude when she had known him to be kind and welcoming, a little rough around the edges, but overall a good person who meant no harm to others.

He took another sip of his drink, and Kimberley hoped the alcohol would give him the courage to get whatever was on his chest off of it. She pushed her empty glass forward. Ryan immediately refilled it, holding back the smartass comment, which surprised her. But perhaps he knew about whatever it was Sam was going through, and he knew now wasn’t the time to push any buttons.

“Sorry about my behavior today,” Sam finally said.

“No need to apologize.