Instead she surprised me by laughing at the incriminating smudges. She also laughed about the fact that the rest of her clothes were ruined by my dirty paw prints—everything but her impractical boots—and waved away my insistence to replace the outfit. She seemed to be delighted by her rumpled state, and her eyes burned brighter after she saw how disheveled she was.

“Hold your hand up.” In my peripheral vision I saw Cletus lift his palm toward me, suspending it between us.

I kept my eyes on Jessica, the sexy sway of her hips, how her long blonde hair was blown over her shoulder as she walked to Claire’s car. She held her head high, and the big smile she gave me from across the parking lot as she opened the passenger door to Claire McClure’s Chevy almost knocked me off my feet.

This girl was flaunting the fact we’d just made out in the supply room.

“I will not hold my hand up,” I said absentmindedly.

“Come on, I want to see who has bigger hands.”

“Shut up, Cletus. I’m not going to hold your hand.”

I thought about calling to her before she shut the door. I also thought about doing a victory lap around the garage. Instead I settled for watching Jess and Claire pull out of the lot, make a left, and disappear down the road.

“I don’t want to hold your hand, I want to compare our anthropic units.”

“Quit it.”

Beau stopped in front of us, his expression blank. “Cletus, you finished with that Toyota yet? We need to leave soon if we’re going to make it to Nashville today.”

Cletus’s attention moved between me and Beau; he let his hand drop. “Listen, I think it’d be best if we just cleared the air now before things progress any further with Duane and Catastrophic Engine Failure.”

“Who?”

“Miss James.”

I felt my eyes narrow on my older brother. I hoped he wasn’t about to say what I figured he was going to say. I was in no mood—not now, not ever—to discuss Jessica’s infatuation with Beau. An infatuation, I noted, that appeared to be over as of last Friday’s bonfire.

“No need.” Beau shook his head rather emphatically. “No air to clear.”

“Come on now. No use ignoring things.” Cletus was using his grandfather voice as he placed his greasy fingers on Beau’s shoulder. “I think we’d all feel better if everything were out in the open, I know I would.”

My stare shifted to my twin and I felt a spike of alarm. “What’s he talking about, Beau?”

“I don’t rightly know, Duane.”

Cletus put his other hand on my shoulder and nodded solemnly. “The truth is, Duane—and I know this might be hard to hear—but the fact of the matter is, and you know I think Catastrophic Engine Failure is a sufficient teacher of calculus, but that doesn’t negate the face that—”

“Just spit it out, Cletus!”

“Fine. We all hate Jessica’s brother, Jackson James.”

I blinked at Cletus, then Beau and I blinked at each other. As much as two people could read each other’s minds, Beau and I could. He and I shared a brief, silent conversation where the following was shared:

Both of us: Of course we hate Jackass James.

Me: Didn’t he give you a speeding ticket over the summer?

Beau: Yes.

Me: Pigfucker.

Beau: By the way, I’ve always known you had a thing for Jess, since we were kids. I would never do anything to get in the way of you two being together (or something along these lines).

Me: Thanks. I appreciate that.

Beau: But you owe me one, because she’s hot, funny, and sweet (or something like this).

Me: Fine. I owe you one.

Beau: Good. Glad we have that settled.

“Stop it.” Cletus snapped his fingers in front of our faces. “I hate it when you two mind-meld through your eyeballs.”

Beau sighed. “Cletus, I think we’re all clear on the fact that no one in our family has any patience for Jackson James. After that shit he pulled with our sister when they were teenagers—”

“And all the times he arrested Jethro for stealing cars,” I chimed in.

“In all fairness, though, Jethro likely did steal those cars,” Cletus added offhandedly.

“Jethro was never convicted,” I added unnecessarily, wanting to defend my oldest brother.

“Exactly.” Beau sounded exasperated. “Plus Jackson still brings it up all the time. I saw Jackson at The Wooden Plank two weeks ago and he made some dumbass remark about Jennifer Sylvester’s new BMW being stolen and whether Jethro had been investigated as a suspect.”

“And that’s just him being a douchebag because Jethro has been straight-laced for over four years, and Jackson won’t let it go. Plus, Jethro hates bananas,” I added unnecessarily. Everyone knew Jennifer Sylvester had a banana cake in her front seat when the car was stolen. I could feel myself getting worked up and knew Beau was feeling similarly irritated.

Neither Beau nor I could drive on the Parkway without getting pulled over by Jackson James. It didn’t matter if we were speeding or not. I always figured this was because Jackson still felt teenage torment about my sister’s lack of interest in his dumb ass during high school. But recently I was beginning to think Jessica’s older brother was just a bored little shit of a man, drunk on small-town power.

“Right. Well, we all agree.” Cletus rested his hands on his hips, nodding thoughtfully. “But no amount of wishing is going to change the fact the Jackson James is unsavory and that Catastro…I mean, Miss James is his sister.”

“So what’s your point?” I crossed my arms over my chest and frowned at my brother. He always had a point—usually it was a good one—but it just took forever for him to get there.

“My point is that you need be cautious of Jackson. Because once he finds out your intentions toward his sister, things will not be pretty.”

“I have no ill intentions.”

“I know you don’t, but—”

“But nothing. The truth is that girl is it for me.”

“I know, Duane.” Cletus’s expression flattened, like he was losing patience. “She’s your 1968 Plymouth Barracuda. Everyone knows that, well…everyone that matters. All I’m saying is, don’t expect him to give you his blessing.”

“I don’t need his blessing.”

“Cletus is right.” Beau’s tone turned uncharacteristically serious, his wide eyes drilled into mine. “Jackson ain’t gonna like this one bit. And he’s a right sneaky bastard. Just watch your back.”

“He’ll make problems for you, if he can,” Cletus continued. “So just let me know if you need help making problems for him in return.”

This statement surprised me. And by the looks of it, this statement surprised Beau as well.

Beau mimicked my stance, crossing his arms over his chest and leveling Cletus with a narrowed stare. “Just what is that supposed to mean?”

“Just what I said.” Cletus shrugged, looking and sounding innocent. That’s one of the things about Cletus, he’s real good at looking innocent. Sometimes I forgot Cletus could spot a sneak so well because he was the king of sneaks. I was just glad he was on my side this time.

“Now, Beau, enough of this dilly-dallying.” Cletus stole Beau’s rag from his front pocket and wiped his hands, glancing around the shop as though he were making sure everything were in order. “Are we going to Nashville today, or what?”

CHAPTER 7

“In a day, when you don't come across any problems - you can be sure that you are travelling in a wrong path”

― Swami Vivekananda

 

~Duane~

I wasn’t paying attention to my surroundings because I was distracted by pleasant thoughts.

And I suppose that’s why I didn’t hear the motorcycles park around the back of the shop or know I had company until they were already inside the garage. I heard an obnoxious laugh, loud and long, alerting me to the unexpected arrival. I lifted my eyes just in time to see Repo—one of my deadbeat father’s biker brothers—pick up Cletus’s favorite socket wrench, and toss it back to the toolbox with a loud clang.