South but didn’t believe me when I told him I’d run shine myself. He thought I was pulling his leg. Quinn’s grandfather made some of the finest stuff in north Mississippi. Damn, we gave the local sheriff hell.”
“Who later became my uncle.”
“Damn,” Bentley said, taking another pull. “Whew. This is some good shit.”
“So what do you, Bentley?” Quinn said.
“Sales,” Bentley said. “I was coming up this way and my daddy told me to stop by. I hadn’t seen Mr. Colson in a long while. We just been catching up and talking a little business.”
Jason winked at Bentley and Bentley closed his big mouth, filling itwith some more warm moonshine. Jason motioned Quinn to an empty metal chair that had been on the porch at the farmhouse the last time he’d seen it. Jason passed him the shine and Quinn smelled it before handing it back. He preferred a good aged bourbon.
“You were the sheriff here?” Bentley said.
“For a bit.”
“You ever have to deal with that Hathcock woman who bought the Rebel Truck Stop?”
“After my time,” Quinn said. “I’ve been gone most of this year. She came into the picture after Johnny Stagg went to jail.”
Bentley shook his head. “Sounds like Mr. Stagg was taking the fall for some other folks,” he said. “You can’t trust half of what you see in the media.”
“He was convicted in a federal court,” Quinn said. “He was a crook who’d grown sloppy in his company. Trust me. He was long overdue.”
Bentley nodded, looking like he didn’t believe a word of it. “I just heard some bad things about that Hathcock woman,” he said.
“Like what?” Quinn said, finding the rest of the Cuban in his T-shirt pocket and snapping open his Zippo. The cigar cracked and burned back to life. Quinn readjusted in the seat and crossed his legs.
“Like she’s running whores at the truck stop and at that old motel across the street.”
Quinn gave a hard look to his father and then settled his gaze on Bentley. Quinn let some smoke out of the side of his mouth, nodding. “And how’s that different from Johnny Stagg, kid?”
Jason Colson held up a hand and grinned, knowing Quinn wasn’t one to back down over the subject of Stagg. The older man got to his feet and poured out what looked to be the rest of the moonshine from a plastic jug into Bentley’s glass. He talked about how doing business inHollywood was a damn cakewalk compared to the folks he had to deal with back in Tibbehah County.
“I heard Hathcock used to be a whore herself,” Bentley said. “Made her money on the flat of her back until gravity took her titties and closed down that cooch.”
“Is that a fact?” Quinn had met a lot of boys like Bentley from Jackson and none of them had been worth a shit, either. Jason Colson just had a true and authentic knack of being drawn to money and influence and didn’t give a good goddamn what kind of company he kept. Quinn figured Hollywood, California, could do that for a man.
“Whether he’s a crook or not, we’re going to have to reach out to Stagg,” Jason said, smoothing his long gray goatee. “We’re going to have to make him an offer on that old property.”
“We have a lot to discuss,” Quinn said to Jason Colson.
“And we need to come up with a couple more investors,” Jason said. “Bentley and his daddy can help with that. And I got some other people in mind.”
“Like I said, we need to talk,” Quinn said.
“We got one hell of a piece of property here,” Jason said, craning his neck around, looking but seeing nothing in the damn dark. “It was even better years ago, before your stupid uncle pieced it off bit by bit.”
“He may have been a crook,” Quinn said, “but Uncle Hamp wasn’t stupid.”
“Man, this shine sure is good, Mr. Colson,” Bentley said, not paying attention or even listening. “You make it yourself?”
“I know this black fella down in Sugar Ditch,” Jason said. “He used to work for my daddy
“Who later became my uncle.”
“Damn,” Bentley said, taking another pull. “Whew. This is some good shit.”
“So what do you, Bentley?” Quinn said.
“Sales,” Bentley said. “I was coming up this way and my daddy told me to stop by. I hadn’t seen Mr. Colson in a long while. We just been catching up and talking a little business.”
Jason winked at Bentley and Bentley closed his big mouth, filling itwith some more warm moonshine. Jason motioned Quinn to an empty metal chair that had been on the porch at the farmhouse the last time he’d seen it. Jason passed him the shine and Quinn smelled it before handing it back. He preferred a good aged bourbon.
“You were the sheriff here?” Bentley said.
“For a bit.”
“You ever have to deal with that Hathcock woman who bought the Rebel Truck Stop?”
“After my time,” Quinn said. “I’ve been gone most of this year. She came into the picture after Johnny Stagg went to jail.”
Bentley shook his head. “Sounds like Mr. Stagg was taking the fall for some other folks,” he said. “You can’t trust half of what you see in the media.”
“He was convicted in a federal court,” Quinn said. “He was a crook who’d grown sloppy in his company. Trust me. He was long overdue.”
Bentley nodded, looking like he didn’t believe a word of it. “I just heard some bad things about that Hathcock woman,” he said.
“Like what?” Quinn said, finding the rest of the Cuban in his T-shirt pocket and snapping open his Zippo. The cigar cracked and burned back to life. Quinn readjusted in the seat and crossed his legs.
“Like she’s running whores at the truck stop and at that old motel across the street.”
Quinn gave a hard look to his father and then settled his gaze on Bentley. Quinn let some smoke out of the side of his mouth, nodding. “And how’s that different from Johnny Stagg, kid?”
Jason Colson held up a hand and grinned, knowing Quinn wasn’t one to back down over the subject of Stagg. The older man got to his feet and poured out what looked to be the rest of the moonshine from a plastic jug into Bentley’s glass. He talked about how doing business inHollywood was a damn cakewalk compared to the folks he had to deal with back in Tibbehah County.
“I heard Hathcock used to be a whore herself,” Bentley said. “Made her money on the flat of her back until gravity took her titties and closed down that cooch.”
“Is that a fact?” Quinn had met a lot of boys like Bentley from Jackson and none of them had been worth a shit, either. Jason Colson just had a true and authentic knack of being drawn to money and influence and didn’t give a good goddamn what kind of company he kept. Quinn figured Hollywood, California, could do that for a man.
“Whether he’s a crook or not, we’re going to have to reach out to Stagg,” Jason said, smoothing his long gray goatee. “We’re going to have to make him an offer on that old property.”
“We have a lot to discuss,” Quinn said to Jason Colson.
“And we need to come up with a couple more investors,” Jason said. “Bentley and his daddy can help with that. And I got some other people in mind.”
“Like I said, we need to talk,” Quinn said.
“We got one hell of a piece of property here,” Jason said, craning his neck around, looking but seeing nothing in the damn dark. “It was even better years ago, before your stupid uncle pieced it off bit by bit.”
“He may have been a crook,” Quinn said, “but Uncle Hamp wasn’t stupid.”
“Man, this shine sure is good, Mr. Colson,” Bentley said, not paying attention or even listening. “You make it yourself?”
“I know this black fella down in Sugar Ditch,” Jason said. “He used to work for my daddy
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