Page 110 of Tito

I shifted my attention to the driveway. Simply looking at the men’s size, it appeared to be a mismatched fight. Hap was twice the size of Manbun and despite his age appeared to be in far better physical condition. Towering over his opponent like a muscular giant, Hap stood a few feet away with his bulging arms dangling loosely at his sides.

“You accused my kids of being thieves,” Mister Manbun said. “And called my Ol’ Lady a liar. Got news for you, Old Man. My kids ain’t fuckin’ thieves, and my Ol’ Lady ain’t a liar.”

“I didn’t call the kids thieves,” Hap responded in a much calmer tone than I expected. “I said I came up missing beer out of my cooler. Then, I pointed out that there were beer bottles in your driveway, under your carport. I suggested she ask them where they got them. She said they were yours, and I responded that I doubted it. Told her I never saw you drink from a bottle, only a can. That’s all that was said.”

“She said you called her a liar and called the kids thieves,” the man insisted.

“I’m going to explain something to you,” Hap said, his tone now laced with irritation. “Sundays are sacred to me. I sit on my porch and drink beers with my family. When that tradition is interrupted by a man standing in my driveway with a dumb look on his face and his hair in a fucking bun, I get irritated. When I get irritated, I get short tempered. When I’m short tempered, it’s in everyone’s best interest to keep their distance. So, before your car leaks oil all over my drive, why don’t you get in it and go? I can assure you it would behoove you to do so.”

“Maybe you need to turn up your hearing aid,” Manbun growled. He puffed his chest. “I said, you need to apologize to my Ol Lady, motherfucker.”

I heard a thud. Mister Manbun doubled over like he’d been shot. Mystified as to what happened, I leaned over the edge of the bannister and peered toward where they stood. All I could see was Hap trying to help the man to his feet.

“What happened?” I whispered.

“The Old Man punched him in the sternum,” Braxton said. “Guess he was tired of listening to him.”

“Holy crap.” I gasped. “I didn’t even see it.”

Braxton laughed. “Neither did he.”

The man gasped to catch his breath. After a moment, he stood upright. Red-faced and out of breath, he looked like he’d just finished running a 10k.

Hap took a step back. “What do you say we just call it a day? I’ll replace my beers and you can go back to your life of petty crime.”

Mister Manbun straightened his posture. He raised his hands like he wanted to fight. “Fuck you, Old Man.”

With the speed of a bolt of lightning, Hap slapped him with his open right hand so hard he nearly knocked him off his feet. Before the man had a chance to recover, Hap slapped him with his left hand, just as hard.

Stunned, Manbun stammered to remain on his feet.

Hap swung his clenched fist into the man’s ribcage. The punch hit him with such force that it lifted him off his feet. He crashed against the car and then slumped to the ground like a ragdoll.

Heaving to breathe, he looked at Hap with wide—and very worried—eyes.

“I’m going up on the porch to have a glass of wine,” Hap said, turning away. “I’d be having a Michelob Ultra, but someone stole the stuff out of my cooler. When you catch your breath, I suggest you get in your car and go back to wherever it is you came from.”

Proud as a peacock, Hap sauntered to the porch. After straightening the wrinkles from his tee shirt. he picked up an empty wine glass. As if nothing had happened, he poured it full and handed it to me. “This one’s for you, sweetheart.”

“And, this one’s for me.” He tipped up the bottle of wine and took a drink.

Whipping the neighbor in the driveway may have been no big deal to Hap, but it wasn’t a typical day’s happenings for me.

“Where’d you learn to fight like that?” I asked excitedly.

“Like that?” He laughed. “Various bars from here to Timbuktu.”

Mister Manbun was struggling to come to his feet. Teetering back and forth, he steadied himself against the side of the car.

“He’s getting up,” I whispered.

Hap turned around. “If you’re considering getting a gun and trying your luck, I suggest you reconsider.” He gestured to the USMC flag hung from the porch’s overhang. “I can guarantee you I’ve got more guns than you do, and that I’m a much better shot than you are. You best bet’s just to go back to where you came from.”

He gave Hap a dirty look, got into his car, and sped away. After he disappeared over the hill, Hap faced us.

He took a drink from the bottle of wine and then shook his head. “Only thing worse than a thief is the man who stands up to defend one.”