Gravy Patterson's Arc

Chapter 5 of 11

Derek hadn't even started talking when the gate creaked open at the front of the yard. Gravy turned. Officer Henry stood at the edge of the firelight, not in a guest's clothes but in his uniform, a folded sheet of paper in his hand. The boys around the pit went quiet. Gravy set his jaw and walked toward him, the music from the speaker suddenly too loud behind his back. Henry held up the paper. Black letters across the front read ALCOHOL SWEEP. Behind him, propped against the fence post, a second sheet was already tacked up — a search warrant, ornate seal stamped at the top. "County's hitting yards tonight," Henry said low. "Any open booze, any unmarked cases, I have to shut you down." Gravy looked past him at the boombox thumping on the picnic table, at the fire crackling high, at every man in the yard holding a bottle. Gravy thought fast. "Give me two minutes," he said. He walked back, killed the boombox with one slap, and told the boys plain. "Bottles in the cooler. Cooler in the shed. Now." They moved without arguing. Caps came off, drinks got dumped on the fire, the cooler slid behind the shed door. Gravy walked back to Henry empty-handed and stepped aside. "Look where you need to look." Henry walked the yard slow. He checked the pit, the table, the bins. He stopped at the back fire ring, saw the lawn chair and the bag of pretzels, and said nothing. When he came back to the gate he folded the sweep notice in half and tucked it in his pocket. "Yard's clean," he said. "Keep it that way." He left the warrant pinned to the post on his way out. Gravy stared at it. The fire was still his. But every man in the yard had seen him fold, and Derek was still waiting out back with a story he hadn't told yet.