Right on time, Harlan thought. Bitch, you’re gonna make this too easy.
Harlan sat on the bus bench and watched the Sawyer woman arrive at the coffeehouse. Every morning this week she had shown up around this same time and stayed at least an hour. Sometimes longer. Yesterday she had even gone upstairs to what Harlan figured must be the man’s apartment. It had been twenty minutes before the two of them came back down and the woman hurried off to her car.
Got yourself a little fuck buddy, hey, boy? Not sure how much her old man would approve. Either one of ’em.
He had to give the fella credit. The woman—now he knew her name was Alex—was worth the risk. Blond, Nordic, and built for pleasure the way Harlan saw it. She was the Midwestern dream girl. He’d love to have at it himself, but Harlan knew that wasn’t in the cards. This was all business. He sat on the bench and lit a Pall Mall and gave some thought to recent events. The Sawyer woman brought a whole different opportunity for a particular flavor of revenge. Harlan could see why people would assume such an occurrence must somehow be borne of divine providence. It was nearly too good to be consider coincidence.
He watched through the glass as Alex and Louis sat and talked together near the window. Louis was big in the shoulders and had some guns for biceps. Harlan didn’t doubt for a second he could kick the boy’s ass in a no-rules knife fight, but they’d definitely make a ruckus and that wouldn’t do. Harlan began to lay plans for the coming confrontation.
Before too long another familiar figure came into view.
Harlan thought back on the family scene in the front yard and spoke out loud. “If it ain’t Mr. Neighborhood Watch.”