[[ wheelsy, south carolina ]]
[ you're wounded and playing a waiting game ]
"Miss?"
Kate looks up from her cold coffee in time to see the paunchy, middle-aged man glance at the insignia on her (Dave's) sweatshirt.
"Can you tell me anything 'bout Sheriff Pardy? He outta surgery?"
"He's been out for a while; his mother's with him now." The stranger's short-sleeved button-down blurs. "Are you a friend of Bill's, or … ?"
"We go way back." He offers a meaty hand. "Gerald Braswell, Wheelsy Register."
" -- I'm sorry?"
"The Register, it's the weekly here in - "
Her eyes narrow.
"You’re a reporter."
His nod is distracted, his attention moving past Kate to the hallway and the nurse's station.
"Now, if you'll excuse me - "
"No."
He blinks, looking at Kate once more, and gives her an uncertain smile.
"Honey, I ain't - "
"No." She stands, indignation replacing exhaustion. "You're not bothering Mrs. Pardy right now, not when Bill's - "
"I ain't here to write a story."
She swallows the rest of her words, tasting the smell of hospital antiseptic on the back of her tongue.
"You're not?"
"Not tonight." He shakes his head. "I've known the family for a real long time - June and my mama still work together."
"I - oh." She sinks into her seat, her stomach clenching. "I'm sorry, I - "
"No need. This ain't been a good night for anybody." It's his turn to pause and study her for a moment. "So you're her, huh?"
The rumor mill in this place is insane.
"The one from L.A.? Yeah." She runs a hand through her hair and gives him a weak smile. "I'm Kate Warner."
He takes a seat beside her with a nod. "Nice to meet you, Miss Warner."
"It's - it's nice to meet you, too." The pleasantries are stupid and awkward on her lips.
"Sorry to say it, but the rest of the reporters won't be near as nice as me. This is gonna make news all around the state - sheriff gettin' shot, takin' a bullet for Everett the way he did. Human interest, y'know."
"Human interest."
Her fists curl into the too-long sleeves of her sweatshirt.
If the press were interested in humanity, they'd leave Bill alone.
"Miss?"
Kate looks up from her cold coffee in time to see the paunchy, middle-aged man glance at the insignia on her (Dave's) sweatshirt.
"Can you tell me anything 'bout Sheriff Pardy? He outta surgery?"
"He's been out for a while; his mother's with him now." The stranger's short-sleeved button-down blurs. "Are you a friend of Bill's, or … ?"
"We go way back." He offers a meaty hand. "Gerald Braswell, Wheelsy Register."
" -- I'm sorry?"
"The Register, it's the weekly here in - "
Her eyes narrow.
"You’re a reporter."
His nod is distracted, his attention moving past Kate to the hallway and the nurse's station.
"Now, if you'll excuse me - "
"No."
He blinks, looking at Kate once more, and gives her an uncertain smile.
"Honey, I ain't - "
"No." She stands, indignation replacing exhaustion. "You're not bothering Mrs. Pardy right now, not when Bill's - "
"I ain't here to write a story."
She swallows the rest of her words, tasting the smell of hospital antiseptic on the back of her tongue.
"You're not?"
"Not tonight." He shakes his head. "I've known the family for a real long time - June and my mama still work together."
"I - oh." She sinks into her seat, her stomach clenching. "I'm sorry, I - "
"No need. This ain't been a good night for anybody." It's his turn to pause and study her for a moment. "So you're her, huh?"
The rumor mill in this place is insane.
"The one from L.A.? Yeah." She runs a hand through her hair and gives him a weak smile. "I'm Kate Warner."
He takes a seat beside her with a nod. "Nice to meet you, Miss Warner."
"It's - it's nice to meet you, too." The pleasantries are stupid and awkward on her lips.
"Sorry to say it, but the rest of the reporters won't be near as nice as me. This is gonna make news all around the state - sheriff gettin' shot, takin' a bullet for Everett the way he did. Human interest, y'know."
"Human interest."
Her fists curl into the too-long sleeves of her sweatshirt.
If the press were interested in humanity, they'd leave Bill alone.