Justified Love (The Southern Gentleman Series Book 1) (3 page)

              Hopping out of the truck, I let the gritty, southern soil take all my worries and fears away. Home sweet home.

              “You O.K., sweet pea?”

              “Just got a little bit of dust in my eyes jumping out the truck, that’s all.”
I lied.
I lied so well it disturbed me. I never lied to my Daddy, but all I wanted to do was protect him from the sad memories I was feeling.

              As I pushed open the screen door and crossed over the threshold, the house felt familiar, and yet, foreign at the same time. I had been gone so long I forgot how much I yearned for the comfort of our home. Immediately, I felt the house was giving me a warm embrace saying, “Welcome home, Carrington. We missed you.” 
I missed you, too.

              Setting my luggage in the foyer, I caught the scent of Granny’s world famous chicken and dumplings.

              “Is that the lingering smells of chicken and dumplings I smell?” I said salivating.

              “We left you some in the fridge, if you’re interested of course,” Granny offered.

              “Are you kidding me? I’ve been looking forward to your chicken and dumplings for weeks now.”

              “Well, you’d better get something into that belly of yours before you head out tonight,” Daddy said with his over-protected voice. “I don’t wanna have to clean up the front yard again because someone couldn’t handle her alcohol,” Dad coughed out.

              “It was one time,” I said defensively.

              “Yea, tell that to the garden gnome sitting at the bottom of the town dump.”

              “It’s not my fault he was in the line of fire.”

              “Either way, eat before you go, please?”

              “Of course Daddy,” I said leaning over giving him a kiss on the cheek.

                His whiskers tickled my face as I backed away. Daddy wasn’t much of a bearded guy. He was more of a scruff, kind of man. Not a full beard, or clean-shaven, but just the perfect combination of facial hair. He was considerably taller than I was; I guess I got my height from my mama.

              Slowly walking into the kitchen, the aroma intensified as if it had been on the stove all day. You couldn’t get food like this in New York. Oh, don’t get me wrong, restaurants tried, but you can’t fake good ole’ country cooking. Granny had only ever lived in the south, so her recipes always consisted of butter, lard and deep-frying everything, including pickles and green beans. No wonder I was overweight as a child.

              Finishing up my generous portion, I scooted the chair back across the worn linoleum, almost knocking over the old metal fan on the counter. My father hardly ever put on the air conditioning in our house. He would sweat it out till the day he died if he could. He was hell-bent on keeping the unit off, only until Granny complained. Daddy was a mama’s boy so whatever Granny said, Daddy did. He was a brutish man, however when it came to Granny; he heeled to her every command. You don’t mess with Granny.

            As I climbed the stairs to my bedroom, I grabbed a hold of the banister where I had spent my childhood sliding down. Looking at the pictures on the wall, you would think this was the first time I had seen them. Walking up the stairs, I stopped at a picture of Mama and traced the outline of her glowing smile. She was stunning with her long auburn hair tucked under a sun hat. Looking back at Daddy and his camera, she smiled at him, showing off her incredible smile. Her freckles stood out in the summer sun, while her sunburnt shoulders shimmered in the rays. Granny always said I was the spitting image of her. Pulling my fingers away from the smudged glass, I forced myself to continue up the staircase.
I hope I make you proud Mama. I miss you so much.

Reaching my childhood room, I placed a hand on the brass doorknob. My palms were sweaty and clammy as I rotated the knob. Taking a deep breath before entering, I tried to brace myself for the flood of memories and emotions I was about to endure. Walking through the doors, I was hit with a tidal wave the way everything came at me all at once. Even though I was looking forward to reminiscing about old times, some memories were best kept in the past.

Chapter 3

              Creeping into the room, I tiptoed as if there was a scary monster I didn’t want to unleash. I threw my luggage on the tattered quilted bed and immediately eyed Mr. Wabbit - my stuffed bunny. As I clutched his matted fur, I started to make my way around the room taking in the recollections one by one. Daddy had left everything as-is and never touched a thing but coming in to dust every once in a while. I approached the old rickety bookshelf filled to the brim with my favorite novels; Pride and Prejudice, To Kill a Mockingbird. Scanning the books, I ran my fingers across the spines while making my way through the room.

              Just as my fingertips left the last spine, I reached my enormous desk where I had spent many a night staying up late studying. I took a seat at the desk and ran my palm over the chipped wood, worn down by age. Looking at the pictures on the walls in front of me, there were dozens of goofy shots with Skye and Harley in them. One picture in particular caught my eye; the three of us in cheerleading outfits grinning like idiots. We hated cheerleading, but did it to please our parents. These girls were my life. I don't know what I would have done without them. We were three strangers thrown together with three entirely different personalities. We were three strangers who were kindred soul mates that desperately needed one another.

              Signing me up for recreational cheerleading when I was eight was probably the best decision my father could have made. Daddy tried everything to raise a proper young lady, but after my mama had died, he had a hard time. On the first day of practice, I showed up with disheveled ponytail, dirt smudges on my forehead and scuffed knees. At the time, I disdained cheerleading, but deep down, I still yearned for the approval of the other girls.

              Blowing a bubble, as if I didn’t care what people thought of me, a little brunette stuck her finger straight in the middle and deflated it. I immediately detested her. Who the hell does she think she is?

              Trying to make friends and prevent an incident, a little blond approached, and sat down beside me in the grass. Attempting to make out her face, I was blinded by the shine off her golden curls.

              Man this sucks! Attempting to find an escape route I plopped my butt in the soggy grass. Realizing I was stuck in pom-pom hell, I began pulling up the grass and tossing it aside. This little blonde sat next to me and started making a necklace out of daisies.

              “This blows,” I huffed.

              “Yep, my folks stuck me in here as a way to acclimate me into society, or whatever that means. My name’s Skye Breeze, but you can call me Skye.” She extended a hand. I accepted her warm gesture with a smile. She was sweet, which was rare for this town. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

              Just as I was beginning to accept my father’s horrible idea, the brunette brat who popped my bubble sat down on the other side of Skye and I. Great!

              “What are you two dorks talking about?”

              “You know Harley, you could be a lot nicer to people,” sang Skye with her honeyed voice. I was still fuming and didn’t want to look at this she-devil.

              “Yeah Skye, I could, but that would take away from my rock star personality.” Huh, this chick thinks she's the bee’s knees doesn't she?

              Just as I was rounding up my assumption of Harley, three perfectly quaffed blonde beauties appeared out of nowhere.

              “…She doesn't even look like she combed her hair,” one of them muttered to her friends. “I wonder if her Mama put her hair up in the dark.”

              “She clearly didn't do her laundry either. Look at those rags!” chimed one of the girls.

              Ashamed and embarrassed, I shrank behind my knees.

              “Hey Paisley, wanna see something cool?” Harley interrupted their heckling.

              “What is it, Harley? I don't have time for your crap today. I need to get back to practice; you know, where you’re supposed to be.”

              “Come here. I have it right here in my hands.”

              “What is it,” she asked.

              “Well, I can't just tell you, can I? You have to come here and see it for yourself.”

            With a sound of disgust, she whined, “Fine.”

              As Paisley got closer, even I was wondering what she had in her hands. Paisley bent down and closed in on Harley’s hands.

              “Come closer. You don't wanna miss this,” Harley said with a suspicious look on her face.

              Just as Paisley was nearly to Haley’s hands, Harley opened them and tossed a grasshopper, right at her face. Screams of little girls fleeing the scene had us all rolling in the grass.

              “And don’t ever talk about my friend’s mama again!” Maybe I was wrong about this girl.

              “No one takes a shot at someone else's mama. That's just wrong,” sympathized Harley.

              “My mama died of cancer last year, so I wouldn't know. Daddy and Granny Bird have been raising me the best they could, but I guess sometimes I don't make it easy.”

              “Well, don't worry. You're part of our family now” Skye said.

              “Amen to that."

              Linking arms, we stood up and walked back to practice. Ever since that first incident with Paisley, we’ve been inseparable.

              Placing the picture back on the desk, I walked past the “trophy” shelf filled with academic honors. First place in the academic decathlon, first place spelling bee champion, first place science fair project.
Was I that much of a loser?
And then I opened up my closet.
Yep, that answers that alright.
I will say though; I think I could still rock a mean pair of cowboy boots. I riffled through my high school wardrobe and felt a sudden urge to purge. Maybe the girls would be interested in a burn party.
All right Carrington; time to get your shit together.

              Unzipping the luggage, I pulled out my favorite pair of skinny jeans, a green see-through blouse with a black camisole, and the hottest set of panties and bra.
Don’t judge. You never know whom you’re going to see when you’re out. Oh, who am I kidding; I’ll always be known as Muffin Top Mason in the eyes of this town.

              Ever since Paisley stamped that moniker on my back in elementary school, I felt as if I would never shake its existence. Three little words were enough to chip away at my once vibrant personality, bit-by-bit. Every time I tried to shake the name, Paisley made sure to bring it back over and again. She would allow me to build up my confidence, and then smacked me down like a petulant child. I’m not that same little girl, however. It’s taken a while, but slowly, I’ve been trying to rebuild the old Carr. The last thing I need on this trip is to have a confrontation with Paisley. I’ve come too far to take a step back.

              After taking a shower and applying my makeup with precision, I was ready to rock and roll. I decided to let my curly hair flow tonight. Now that I had gotten older, I knew how to maintain my mane finally. Just as I pulled on my second cowboy boot, I heard a low rumbling coming down the driveway. The music was on full blast, and Skye and Harley were singing at the top of their lungs. Taking in the summer breeze with the roof off Harley’s truck, both sang out of key but enjoyed every minute of it. After coming to a screeching halt, Harley laid on the horn without any remorse for Dad or Granny.
Damn, I miss these bitches.

              Barreling down the creaking stairs like a teenager again, I grabbed my phone, oversized purse and yelled back that I’d be home later.

              “Have fun Care Bear, and make good decisions!” Daddy yelled from the living room.

              Jumping into the truck like Luke Duke, we sped off into the night. “Here you go, hooker,” Harley said passing me a bottle of beer. I peaked over the front seat to look at Skye, who was driving just to make sure she wasn’t drinking.

              “One of us has to be the designated driver,” she exclaimed.

              “Good girl,” I said patting her shoulder.

●

              We pulled up to Ralph’s around nine and coasted in like we had never skipped a beat. The bar looked a little empty right now and wasn’t in full swing yet. “It usually doesn’t get going until at least ten, but you looked like you were about to shit bricks when we mentioned coming here. I thought we could get nice and buzzed before everyone starts to roll in,” Harley said hitching her arm around mine.

              After the two beers in the truck and a double shot of Crown at the bar, thanks to Skye, I was feeling right good. Slowly people started to roll in by the dozens. Even though it was a typical hick bar complete with neon beer signs, pool tables, and dartboards, Ralph kept the jukebox stocked with not just country, but tons of classic rock. I know his choice in music was partly due to Harley. She had a way of persuading men to do her bidding, plus, it didn’t hurt that if Ralph didn’t, he had to listen to her bitch at work. She was a high roller for Ralph, and he couldn’t deny it. Her tiny body and tight leather pants always had the boys crawling to get another drink. The more they drank; the higher Harley’s tips became.

              As I plunked in my quarters, I finally decided on the perfect song to get this party started with my girls; ‘Nothin’ But a Good Time’ by Poison. I grabbed Skye and Harley and pulled them onto the dance floor. We began to bump and grind just like the good ole’ days, except tonight, there were a lot more eyes watching our every move. I wasn’t used to having men stare at me in a positive way. I tuned them out and pretended the girls and I were dancing around in my bedroom. We chased the disco ball around, just getting lost in the music and the lights. Not caring about anything or anyone, we danced our hearts out as if we were on Dancing with the Stars.

              Exhausted and sweating like a pig, I tipped back my beer, only to come up empty.
Shit. Well, that’s no good.

              I turned my attention to Skye and Harley, “I’m all out. Want me to get this round?” I said almost yelling.

              “Hell yes,” Harley yelled back, as a cowboy grabbed her hips, swinging her to the music.

            As I turned around, my damp hair swung back and forth, while I made my way to the bar. Leaning over the bar, I called over Zach the bartender.

            “Hey, Zach. Can I get two Buds, please?” I said holding up two fingers. Waiting for the beers, I could feel my blouse clinging to my drenched skin.
I hope no one can see through my blouse right now.

            Grabbing the beers and starting to turn towards the dance floor, I felt a slight tap on my shoulder. Turning around, I lost it and dropped the two bottles on the ground. I couldn’t hear the crashing of the glasses the way my heart was beating so loudly out of my chest.
Shit. It’s him. Colton. Fucking. Wilson.

              Reality didn’t hit me until I bent down to clean up the bottles I had dropped. Right as I was bending over, Colt bent over at the same time. Just like the three Stooges, we head butted each other.
Good job, Carr. Way to make an impression after all these years.
All we could do was stare at each other and laugh at how awkward, and funny the situation was.

              Standing up, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. He was so beautiful up close.

              “Carr, is that you?” he said rubbing his head.

             
Holy shit. He remembers my name.
  In my dreams, we were well acquainted however; in reality we had never really had a formal and yet relevant conversation with one another. We had a few words, here and there, but never a productive conversation.

              “Yep. Yes. Ugh, huh. That would be me.”