Mississippi Blues (6 page)

“Oh, for crying gypsies!” Summer jumped up, and without a backward look, stomped into the laundry room. Fuming, she threw a stack of dirty towels in the washing machine and turned it on. For a moment, she stared into the washer. Glory didn't have a clue what she was talking about. Of course she had been tense when Trey strolled into the shop like he had every right to be there. He betrayed her brother. She held absolutely nothing in her heart for him now. There wasn't room for the risk.

• • •

As he left the shop, Trey noticed the hood of Summer's car up and someone bent over, head hidden underneath. Curious, he walked over to see who it was. As he approached, the man looked up with an expression of pure terror. Galen Franks. Trey wondered about his fear. He never harmed any of the Franks, although he knew they took a lot of abuse. Maybe this one had a run-in with the Chief.

“Hey. What's up?” He kept his voice soft, using a tone one would use with a frightened hunting dog.

The big man cocked his head. “Nothin'.” Almost reluctantly, the other man held out his hand. “My name is Galen W. Franks.”

Trey shook hands. “I'm Trey. Good to know you.” He indicated Summer's car with a tip of his head. “What's wrong with the car? I'm pretty good with engines. Maybe I can help.”

The obese man wiped his hands on his ample rear. “It don't run good. Miss Summer needs it fixed.”

“Do you have any idea what's wrong?” Trey bent over the engine. The whole car needed to be junked. But obviously Summer couldn't afford something better.

The man gestured toward the spark plugs. “Needs new ones.”

“I see. Do you have some?” He lifted one corroded battery wire and snorted. The battery needed to be replaced too.

“Yeah.” Galen nodded toward his truck. “In the back.”

“Get them, and I'll help you put them in.” Trey didn't know what made him decide to help, but he didn't want to leave until he made sure Summer's car was running. He glanced at his cherry red mustang, and a wave of nostalgia washed over him. Restoring the old car with Jace and Jody had been some of the best times of his life.

Galen came back with the new plugs and they changed the parts in a matter of minutes.

“That'll make Summer happy.” Trey slammed the hood shut. “I'm going to buy her a battery and cables. She needs them. She's going to find herself stranded somewhere.”

Wiping his greasy hands on his filthy overalls, Galen said, “Miss Summer don't like you no more.”

“Not much.” Trey wondered how the big guy knew this.

“She used to like you a bunch.” Galen giggled, high-pitched, almost girlish. “You were boyfriend-girlfriend. Sitting in a tree. K-I-S-S-I-N-G.”

“How do you know? Did she say something to you?” Trey couldn't imagine Summer sharing anything intimate with this strange man. Had he spied on them five years ago? The guy was mentally challenged; no need worrying about him.

Galen shrugged.

Seeing he wasn't going to get any more information out of him, Trey let it go. “I guess that's it. See you around.”

With a nod, Galen lumbered off.

Shaking his head, Trey went to his own car and drove away.

The Chief pulled alongside as he turned out of the Curl Up and Dye parking lot and motioned him over. Trey turned into the Piggly-Wiggly lot, parked, and slid out of his car. He walked over to the Chief's big Cadillac, placed his palms on the roof, and peered inside. “Am I under arrest, sir?”

His father didn't smile. “What were you doing with the Hill girl?”

“Just checking to see if her brother has come home.” Why did the Chief care what he and Summer had to talk about?

“Did anyone see you there?” the Chief pressed.

Trey shrugged. “Her boss. Buford Krebbs's wife, Violet. No, Viola.”

The Chief's frown deepened. “Surely you realize if anyone spots the two of you together all the old rumors and speculations will rise up like an old dog beggin' for one last hunt. Months went by before this town went back to normal after the trial and the conviction. I don't want all that old garbage coming up again. You sniffing around the Hill girl will fuel the fire faster than anything.”

“You can't keep people from talking, sir. Or thinking what they will,” Trey said.

“No.” The Chief glared at him. “But you don't have to stir up the gossips either.”

“If people in this town don't have anything better to do than talk about me getting a haircut from a pretty girl then I'm sorry for them.” Trey met his father's eyes. Why was he making such a big deal out of this? Surely he knew there was no way to keep people from thinking what they wanted to. “Or is there another reason you don't want me to see Summer?”

The vein in the Chief's head began to throb. “You're asking for more heartache, son. I don't want to see you go through it all again.”

“Thanks for your concern, sir, but it's my heart,” he said.

“I'll not tell you again to stay away from that girl.” The Chief's face flushed dark red and the vein in his forehead picked up tempo. He tapped his fingers on the car door. “She's too old for you.”

“I have to disagree. I'm twenty-three, Summer's only four years older.” Trey kept his tone respectful, but he wasn't going to bend. Didn't matter that Summer didn't want anything to do with him. Not the point. “We're both adults, able to make our own choices.”

“Nothing good can come from this. When Hill is caught and sent back to Angola, all the old anger is going to resurface. You might think you can strike up your old friendship. Hell, I know how you felt about that girl. Maybe you even thought you were in love with her, but you can't erase that you were the one whose testimony sent her brother to prison. Do you think that's just going to disappear because you wish it would?”

“Did the talk stop when you sent me away?” Bitterness edged Trey's voice.

“I did what was best,” the Chief shot back, ignoring the question.

“Best for who, sir? Me? Or you? What was best about being shipped halfway around the world to fight in wars no one cares about? I think that may not have been the best thing for me. But once I was out of sight, this whole mess could be put out of your mind.”

Without warning, the Chief's hand flashed out and grabbed Trey's T-shirt, twisting it tight. “Boy, you might be a mite bigger than when you left, but I'm still your daddy. You do as you're told. I have my reasons for what I do. I don't have to explain them to you or anyone else. Now steer clear of that girl.”

Trey twisted out of the Chief's grasp. “No, sir. Not for you or anyone else.”

Being the Chief's daughter was a pain in the ass.

Lindy popped her gum and checked her look in the Jeep's mirror one last time. Even a heavy layer of cheap makeup and pitch black hair couldn't disguise the fact she wasn't twenty-one. Although she carried a fake ID, it wasn't any good in Juliet. Everyone knew who she was. Luckily, Jimmy Ray Hunt liked following rules as much as she did, and looked the other way when Lindy and her friends partied in his bar.

She climbed out of the Jeep, tugged her skintight Lycra mini down over her hips and struggled on six-inch heels toward the door of Mugs-n-Jugs. Her life sure had changed in the last year. When she was little she had been the perfect child. Blue-eyed, blonde, sweet, polite. But the older she got, the more she resented all the boundaries placed on her. The Chief was the law, her mother the last word in Juliet's society.
Lindy,
they lectured
, follow in our footsteps. Do all the right things. Be a lady. Take ballet, riding and art classes, and most important of all, keep your reputation spotless.

Last year, when her mother began to slip away, Lindy quit going to dance, then art. She dyed her blonde hair pitch-black and threw away all her proper, oh-so-perfect clothes. Courtesy of the Salvation Army, she found an entire new wardrobe. Finally, she ditched all her Clinique and Estée Lauder products, and replaced them with the cheapest brands of black eyeliner and dark red lipstick Juliet's drugstore had to offer.

She took a breath and opened the door. Excitement buzzed through her. Anything could happen tonight. The bar was packed, she could barely see through the curtain of heavy black smoke. She inhaled the stench of cigarettes, booze, and too many sweaty bodies packed together. Heavy metal blasted her eardrums. A short, dark-haired girl standing near the bar spotted her and motioned wildly.

Lindy fought her way through the crush of bodies until she reached her friend. “Hey, Candy. Guess what?”

“What? You ready to fly? I've already hooked up with a guy who wants to party later.” Candy giggled. “He's hot, too.”

“Great. Hey, I've to tell you something big.” Lindy couldn't wait to talk about Jace. Maybe Candy would understand the fascination he held for her.

“What do you think of my new outfit?” Candy did a spin, her arms held out. The gold hoop in her nose glittered in the low light.

Frustrated by her friend's lack of interest in her big news, Lindy gave a thumbs-up for Candy's simple black dress with a half dozen chains wrapped around her waist, fishnet stockings, and spike heels. She had on more makeup than Lindy did and her jet-black hair glimmered under the mirrored ball.

The kids Lindy would've considered losers her freshman year were now her crowd. The thing she liked most about her new group was they weren't afraid of what anyone thought, and they went out of their way to prove it. Annoying the Chief was high on their list of priorities. Drinking, and getting high when anyone could come up with weed was another favorite activity. School and work didn't matter to them.

Jimmy Ray hung over the bar. “What're ya havin' tonight, babe?”

Skinny, wearing a wifebeater undershirt that showed off his overlapping tattoos, a nickel-studded belt that didn't hold up his jeans, and heavy silver rings on every finger, he reminded her of Keith Richards. At least she thought he looked like the Rolling Stone before Richards got old and wrinkly and ugly.

“Rum and Coke.” She angled her shoulders so he could get a good look down her shirt. As long as she let him look, he let her party.

“Coming right up.” He placed the drink in front of her with a wink. When she dug in her purse he said, “On me.”

“Thanks.” Lindy wrinkled her nose and took a big gulp of the drink. She didn't really like the bitter taste, but she'd found the more she drank the easier it went down and the better she felt. When she got plastered, she didn't have to think about anything. Especially her dying mother, her stoic dad, and her exiled brother.

She still couldn't believe Trey showed up out of the blue. What did he want? More than to wish her a happy graduation, that's for sure.

She turned and leaned against the bar. Candy was on the dance floor gyrating her hips against some guy. Probably the one she just met. Lindy wondered where the rest of their friends were. Probably already at the quarry getting high. No one here interested her. Most everyone else was ancient — thirty, at least. She downed her drink and ordered another. Swallowing half of it, she mumbled, “This bites.”

“What's the matter, Lil Sugar?” Jimmy Ray sounded less than interested as he dried a glass.

“I'm bored.” She wasn't, not really. Her insides ached like they were crumbling in on themselves. Being here with these losers was a hell of a lot better than staying home and watching her mother waste away. And watching the Chief ignore them all.

“Is that a fact?” He put away the glass and rested his elbows on the bar.

She pouted, finishing her rum and Coke in two quick gulps. “Give me another one.”

“Coming right up, Lil Sugar.” He made a gun out of his fist, thumb and index finger and pointed it at her, making a clicking sound with his mouth.

She held out her empty tumbler. “Stop calling me that and pour.”

He shrugged and fixed her a drink. “Bottoms up, baby.”

An hour later, a couple more drinks, and Lindy no longer dwelled on things she couldn't change. She spun around the dance floor with anyone who asked, and some who didn't. Spying an empty table, she climbed up on a chair and stepped onto the tabletop. Someone whistled and she moved her hips in a seductive arc. Who needed ballet? Who needed approval? Shaking her ass in front of this crowd was much more fulfilling.

Inspired, she did a pirouette. One of her heels caught in the middle of the table and she toppled like a doll, landing on the floor in a heap. Her Lycra skirt slid up to her waist, exposing her red thong. One bra strap slid off her shoulder, dangling down her arm. As she struggled to stand, no one offered a hand, only made a few nasty suggestions.

Lindy giggled, pushing to her hands and knees. “Where's Candy?”

“Here I am.” The other girl wound her way forward and held out her hand. After two or three attempts, they entwined fingers and Lindy managed to get on her feet. She tugged her skirt down and fumbled with her bra, but it wouldn't stay in place so she let it be.

“Boy, can you dance,” Candy said. “Wish I could do that.”

“Ballet lessons.” Lindy staggered toward the bar. “I need a drink.”

“I'm gonna find my date,” Candy mumbled.

“The bar's closed,” Jimmy Ray told her when she asked for a refill. “Last call was thirty minutes ago. You missed it. You were kinda busy giving lap dances.”

“Jealous?” she taunted. “Maybe you wish you could have one. In fact, I think you want in my panties.”

“I get into them, you won't ever forget it.” He reached across the bar and dragged a thumb under her bra strap, sliding it back in place. His fingers lingered for a moment.

She shivered. He was different from anyone she'd ever met. Dangerous. Edgy. Someone who would really piss off her mother and the Chief. “You're a big talker.”