the other Son

Chapter 10

The identity of the killed man hit Eanverness on Monday afternoon like a spring tide – the words rippled through the streets and forced their way into everyone's consciousness. At the same time, a sigh of relief travelled through the town. It wasn't one of them, it was a stranger, no one whose face was familiar or who they had to mourn. The murder suddenly appeared way less grave and brutal and in the evening the bar was packed with that name saturating the air. Guttman, Gutman, Guttman. A senseless chant.

Someone had gotten their hands onto a newspaper where a photo of the man was printed off and the crinkled page was handed around like a porn magazine behind the gym before school started. Noisy bastards.

Although the island lacked some amenities of the mainland the signal wasn't all that bad and it hadn't taken a genius to google the victim's name– and stumble across his workplace. A lawyer, of course. The information didn't cause Tristan to pity the man any more – not at all, really – since all the lawyers he'd had the questionable luck to meet so far had been straight-up assholes, especially the ones his father liked to employ. Some cosmic rule dictated them to be more despicable the more successful and knowledgeable they were at their craft.

A smidgen of fragile hope settled in the back of his mind. As a lawyer the man surely had made some enemies along the way, hadn't he? No ulterior motive, merely revenge executed by a scorned client or opposing party.

Other than that, Tristan ignored the agitated chatter and refused to participate in any kind of guessing game. Griffin's somber face was proof enough that this wasn't the end to the whole affair and there was a whole rat's tail following this revelation. This wasn't the end, this was only the beginning and they better shovelled some more dirt over their buried secrets.

Becks had proven to have a serious pair of balls hidden somewhere in her skintight pants by bringing her werewolf friend who also happened to be one of the crab fishers everyone suspected of killing the man. Fucking stupid but she'd never been the brightest candle on the cake.

Griffin was highly amused by their sheer presence.

"Jealous?" he inquired innocently with a shit-eating grin and Tristan threw him a flat look telling him exactly how fucking childish he was being.

Becks led her toy up to the bar as if she'd listened in on them –impossible by how loud it was – and her swaying hips hypnotized the little shit to the point where he stumbled over his own feet. Fucking pathetic.

"Griffin, nice to see you." She smiled sweetly at him and tugged her salivating werewolf closer.

Griffin snorted out a laugh and nodded. "Becks."

"It's busy tonight, isn't it?"

"Spill the beans, Becks," Tristan interjected boredly before the awkwardness of her small talk would kill someone. Why did everybody loose the last of their damn braincells in the presence of someone they fancied?

Becks regarded him with those doll-eyes. "Well, I wanted to introduce my boyfriend-" Tristan gagged a little. "- to you. Ralph,-" Tristan swore he had puke in his mouth. "- these two gentlemen are Griffin and Tristan, my friends."

Ralph had a firm grip around Becks' waist as he nodded and gave them a retarded smile. "Hi, how you doin'?"

Griffin's broad shoulders were visibly shaking with the laughter he tried to suppress and he disappeared to the other end of the bar, leaving Tristan alone to deal with those dimwits.

"Can I get you something to drink?"

They shared one of those disgusting looks as if neither of them was able to decide which beverage they wanted on their own.

"We'll have the Tennent's Lager."

Tristan couldn't hold back from rolling his eyes this time. "I see your poor taste hasn't changed in the slightest," he stated followed by a pointed look at her boyfriend.

Becks flipped him off.

He served them their pints and happily moved on to the next guest waiting for their turn at the bar.

The peace didn't last long though and was rudely cut short by Ralph's existence. "Yo, dude, can you play something else? Something, I don't know, fun?"

Tristan dried his hands on a dish towel and walked back over to them. "Like what?"

Ralph shrugged and smiled stupidly. "I don't know, something fun to dance to." He gestured at the speakers in the upper corners of the room. "This sounds like something my grandad listens to."

At least Becks realized the thin ice her toy was treading on and tried to save whatever was there to save. "Well, it's too crowded to dance anyway, isn't it?" She kissed his jaw and threw Tristan a pleading look.

"Your grandad has great taste if he listens to Led Zeppelin."

"Led what?" The werewolf resembled a confused puppy and looked to Becks for help.

She patted the hand around her waist reassuringly. "It's a band, baby."

"Oh, like James Blunt?"

Tristan scoffed. "Becks, for your sake I hope he's at least good in bed to make up for this."

"So, can you play James Blunt?" Ralph requested oblivious to the insult. Fucking dimwit.

Tristan leaned closer to the other man and showed his teeth in what could've been a rare smile but was full of maliciousness and evil intent. "Sweetheart, if you want to suck my dick so badly you only need to tell me."

"Tristan," Becks groaned accusingly while the words slowly registered in her boyfriend's mind.

"You-! What did you say?"

Tristan grinned languidly. "I said if you want to listen to James Blunt in here you better get on your fucking knees and make it worth my while."

Ralph was livid and rudely shoved Becks to the side when she tried to calm him down. The inhumane was swirling in his muddy eyes and he was shaking from head to toe with anger. "You piece of shit! I'll punch your teeth out! You-"

The moment he looked ready to lunge across the counter and follow through with his threat Griffin snatched him at the back of his shirt and yanked him back. There was not much one could do to resist the two-metre man and Ralph was left spitting and seething like a pup.

"None of that, kid," Griffin growled and stared him down when he wouldn't stop twisting and turning. "This is my place and you better listen to what I say."

"He called me a faggot!" Ralph bellowed and tried to struggle out of Griffin's grasp with no luck.

"And that's why you want to throw punches?"

"He deserves it!"

"You're a moron, kid. Get your ass out of here and cool off before you even consider coming back." Griffin finally set him back down on his feet and pointed at the door before he could get any funny ideas.

"You're going to regret this." The werewolf threw Tristan one last scalding look and then shouldered his way through the crowd and outside.

Becks sighed tiredly. "You're an ass, Tristan." She shoved some money into Griffin's hands and followed her fuming boyfriend out into the night.

Griffin watched them leave and ran a hand over his face before he turned back to Tristan who was stacking clean glasses behind the bar without a care in the world. "You really couldn't act civil for once?"

Tristan paused and raised his eyebrows at his boss. "There's a reason you don't pet strays out on the street, Griffin. Because they'll give you the fucking rabies."