Dancing
in that finale where Patrick Swayze picked up Jennifer Grey up over his head. Milly liked the movie, but shepreferred Swayze much better in
Road House
. They didn’t make men like that anymore.
“You sure that boy is queer?” Wash said.
“I read it in
Us Weekly
,” Charlotte said. “Or was it
People
?”
“Damn,” Wash said, chawing on the sandwich.
Milly turned to head back to the small room behind the kitchen. She had her overnight bag and a Dell computer and a pink puppy stuffed animal she’d had most of her life. That was pretty much it.
“Hold up,” Wash Jones said.
Milly stopped and looked behind her, eyeing her father, who wadded up the sandwich paper and fingered the ham caught in his teeth. Her daddy looked her over, lingering on the makeup on her face, and shook his head like he’d just seen the sorriest sight of his life. He reached for the level on his La-Z-Boy chair and hoisted his bad back up to straight and got to his feet. He was a short, round little man. His chin quivered with anger before he spoke. “Get your things and get gone.”
“What?”
“This is the last time, Milly,” he said. “It’s for your own good.”
“Wash,” Charlotte said.
“You shut the hell up,” he said. “Ain’t your daughter out there shaking her titties for a couple bucks. I never thought I’d ever live to see such a thing.”
“You won’t do nothing about it like you didn’t do nothing about Brandon.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“You didn’t do nothing to help him.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You only cared what folks thought of you.”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“Don’t you worry,” Milly said. “I’m gone. I’d sure rather be a whore than a fucking coward.”
On the way out, she found his goddamn stash under his bed—Ziploc baggies full of pills and weed—and stuffed them into her pockets. She didn’t get a half mile before she tossed the pills out on the roadside but kept the weed forherself.
7
Q uinn didn’t get back to the farm until late, after drinking a few beers with Lillie and Boom at the Southern Star and catching up on the local gossip and bullshit. As he hit the farmhouse, he spotted the colored Christmas lights glowing from his dad’s trailer and heard music and talking as he walked through the back fields. He moved past his dead cornfields and down a well-worn path to find his dad and a young man he’d never seen before drinking clear liquid from Mason jars.
“This is Bentley,” Jason Colson said. “His daddy and I go way back.”
Quinn shook the young guy’s hand. He had a limp, soft handshake and careless hair. He told Quinn it was a real honor to meet him and appreciated all he’d done for the country. The kid looked to be drunk on Colson moonshine.
Quinn nodded but didn’t sit down.
“I taught this boy to ride at the spread in Pocahontas,” Jason said.“Bentley knows horses. We’ve been talking about the family plans we have here for the ranch. I told him it didn’t seem like much now, but after some backhoe work, this place could really be something.”
“It’s something now.”
“I know, I know,” Jason said. “But you know what I mean. Say, you want a little nip?”
Quinn shook his head. “Getting late,” he said. “Just wanted to say hello and good night.”
“C’mon, son,” Jason said. “One drink isn’t gonna kill you. I was just telling Bentley here about how many Dodge Chargers were ripped up on the
Dukes
. Damn, I wish I could’ve saved just one of those cars. I’d be rich, wouldn’t need any help on this deal. I heard John Schneider had gotten into refurbishing. I think he sells them for nearly a hundred grand each.”
“You better finish that ’78 Firebird first,” Quinn said.
“You bet,” Jason said. “Yeah, we did most of the work at the back lot in Burbank. They shot the first five or six episodes in Georgia, but that was before I came along. The producer was impressed I came from the
in that finale where Patrick Swayze picked up Jennifer Grey up over his head. Milly liked the movie, but shepreferred Swayze much better in
Road House
. They didn’t make men like that anymore.
“You sure that boy is queer?” Wash said.
“I read it in
Us Weekly
,” Charlotte said. “Or was it
People
?”
“Damn,” Wash said, chawing on the sandwich.
Milly turned to head back to the small room behind the kitchen. She had her overnight bag and a Dell computer and a pink puppy stuffed animal she’d had most of her life. That was pretty much it.
“Hold up,” Wash Jones said.
Milly stopped and looked behind her, eyeing her father, who wadded up the sandwich paper and fingered the ham caught in his teeth. Her daddy looked her over, lingering on the makeup on her face, and shook his head like he’d just seen the sorriest sight of his life. He reached for the level on his La-Z-Boy chair and hoisted his bad back up to straight and got to his feet. He was a short, round little man. His chin quivered with anger before he spoke. “Get your things and get gone.”
“What?”
“This is the last time, Milly,” he said. “It’s for your own good.”
“Wash,” Charlotte said.
“You shut the hell up,” he said. “Ain’t your daughter out there shaking her titties for a couple bucks. I never thought I’d ever live to see such a thing.”
“You won’t do nothing about it like you didn’t do nothing about Brandon.”
“Shut your mouth.”
“You didn’t do nothing to help him.”
“That’s a lie.”
“You only cared what folks thought of you.”
“Get the hell out of here.”
“Don’t you worry,” Milly said. “I’m gone. I’d sure rather be a whore than a fucking coward.”
On the way out, she found his goddamn stash under his bed—Ziploc baggies full of pills and weed—and stuffed them into her pockets. She didn’t get a half mile before she tossed the pills out on the roadside but kept the weed forherself.
7
Q uinn didn’t get back to the farm until late, after drinking a few beers with Lillie and Boom at the Southern Star and catching up on the local gossip and bullshit. As he hit the farmhouse, he spotted the colored Christmas lights glowing from his dad’s trailer and heard music and talking as he walked through the back fields. He moved past his dead cornfields and down a well-worn path to find his dad and a young man he’d never seen before drinking clear liquid from Mason jars.
“This is Bentley,” Jason Colson said. “His daddy and I go way back.”
Quinn shook the young guy’s hand. He had a limp, soft handshake and careless hair. He told Quinn it was a real honor to meet him and appreciated all he’d done for the country. The kid looked to be drunk on Colson moonshine.
Quinn nodded but didn’t sit down.
“I taught this boy to ride at the spread in Pocahontas,” Jason said.“Bentley knows horses. We’ve been talking about the family plans we have here for the ranch. I told him it didn’t seem like much now, but after some backhoe work, this place could really be something.”
“It’s something now.”
“I know, I know,” Jason said. “But you know what I mean. Say, you want a little nip?”
Quinn shook his head. “Getting late,” he said. “Just wanted to say hello and good night.”
“C’mon, son,” Jason said. “One drink isn’t gonna kill you. I was just telling Bentley here about how many Dodge Chargers were ripped up on the
Dukes
. Damn, I wish I could’ve saved just one of those cars. I’d be rich, wouldn’t need any help on this deal. I heard John Schneider had gotten into refurbishing. I think he sells them for nearly a hundred grand each.”
“You better finish that ’78 Firebird first,” Quinn said.
“You bet,” Jason said. “Yeah, we did most of the work at the back lot in Burbank. They shot the first five or six episodes in Georgia, but that was before I came along. The producer was impressed I came from the
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