Boys South of the Mason Dixon
Page 3
Scarlet had texted me that she was going to Jack’s tonight. She wanted me to go with her, lie to my parents, which was common for Scarlet, but not for me. She knew before she even asked I wouldn’t do it. But she asked me anyway like she always did. Now, sitting here and having watched Asher walk inside, made me wish I was braver, wilder, and didn’t care so much about letting daddy down.
She’d tell me all about it tomorrow anyway. The girl Asher took to his truck. Who the twins Brent and Bray Sutton ended their heated night with. Who she, Scarlet, made out with in the dark. Or in front of everyone. To her, it didn’t matter. Even though she had her eye on Steel Sutton these days. He was our age, and he was the Sutton boy to pursue for girls in our grade.
“You good with fried chicken? Jack’s cooking up fried chicken. You can run in the back and get a bucket. Get some of them fries of his, too. We’re fending for ourselves tonight.”
Momma went to church on Wednesday nights. Her ladies’ group bagged groceries and delivered them to the needy every week. Truth was she would have made us dinner if daddy had allowed her. But he insisted we would eat out so she wouldn’t need to cook every night, and so we did. Every Wednesday night, just the two of us, and usually it was fried.
“That’s fine with me,” I replied, a small thrill from possibly catching a glimpse of Asher again made my heart race. I didn’t want to act overly excited about chicken from a bar, or Daddy would have gotten suspicious.
“Let me use your phone,” he said, extending his hand to me.
I didn’t have anything to hide from him, so I gave him my phone without any hesitation.
Daddy took my phone and called Jack, telling him what we wanted. “While your momma is gone, we might as well live it up. Reckon you can whip us up some sweet tea?”
Lately, momma was on a health kick. It wouldn’t last long because they never did, but she wanted daddy to consume less sugar and grease, which were the very things he enjoyed the most. She said he’d live longer that way. But he just ended up eating it whenever she wasn’t around. Like tonight, for example.
“Yeah, I can.” I might as well. If I said no, he’d just go get a beer from the case he hid inside the barn. The real kind, not the light version which momma bought for him.
Although the chance was slight I’d see Asher from the back where I’d enter and Jack would send a server, I still couldn’t stop myself from getting giddy at the possibility. I had seen him today at school, and even though he’d talked to me and walked with me to three of my classes, always interested in what I was learning, my grades, and my new friends, I already couldn’t wait to see him again. Because even when everyone around us was calling out his name, trying to get his attention, Asher only paid attention to me.
“Ask Jack to give us extra of that special sauce he makes,” daddy added as I leapt from the truck. He must have been ravenous for extra sodium and a hearty dose of cholesterol.
“Okay,” I replied, thinking to myself about all the mayonnaise and fat in that special sauce and how unhappy Momma would be about that. But I would do whatever he asked and make him happy. Besides, it would give me more time to stand there while the server ran to get the sauce, which gave me a better chance at catching a glimpse of Asher.
The large, heavy wooden door that had been painted red years before I was born was a familiar sight to me. I’d only entered Jack’s through that back door. And only when daddy brought me here. I’d get the food, then pay and leave. I never got to go inside through the front entrance because Daddy didn’t want me in a bar. High school students weren’t served alcohol, but they were allowed inside. Everyone but me because Jack would rat me out.
Brandon Heely was standing just inside the door with a bag of food I knew was ours. “Hey, Brandon,” I said politely. He’d been working here for years even though he should’ve been off at college by now. But he wasn’t and probably never would be because he preferred to flip burgers at Jack’s and riding his motorcycle around Malroy, pretending to be the badass he wanted to be, but never could be.
“Hey, Dix, here’s your order.”
“Thank you,” I replied, reaching forward. “Daddy wants to add some extra special sauce,” I added, praying he had to go to the front to get some from the cooler.
Brandon chuckled. “This is his third time ordering this week. Jack says your momma has him on a diet. Is that true? Because it ain’t working if you ask me.”
Third time! Jeez! Daddy! I hadn’t realized he was sneaking off for greasy bar food that often.
“Yeah. She’ll eventually give up or catch him.”
Brandon sounded amused. “Stay right here. I’ll go get the sauce.”
This was my chance. “Okay.”
As he turned to walk away, I slowly followed behind him. I crept closer to the swinging door and just when I thought I wasn’t going to see anything before it closed in my face, I caught a glimpse of Asher, standing at the pool table, with a grin on his beautiful lips. His arm was propped on Andrea James, Emily’s older, college age sister. She was leaning against him, enjoying herself and Asher doing the same. She worked here, had to be at least twenty, and like her sister Emily, she was gorgeous and curvy. Now I officially hated her.
Andrea was in heels, making her almost as tall as Asher. She was leaning in to whisper in his ear when the door closed and blocked my view of them. I slowly backed away. I’d seen enough. I knew Asher was popular with the older girls. He was popular with all the girls, regardless of their age. They all wanted him because he had it all—looks, charm and mystique. But I wanted him for other reasons altogether. Not that it mattered anyway. I was a kid to Asher, one he was following around to keep safe and protect from bullies at school. I was just a charity case to him and I knew that.
Brandon stepped back through the door with two containers of their famous sauce. “Here you go. Jack said to tell the old man he better not clog his arteries and have your momma up here giving him the what for.”
I forced a smile. “I will. Thanks, Brandon. Have a good night,” I said, before turning to rush out with our order. I was glad I hadn’t gone with Scarlet. I’d seen enough through that door to last me for months. I didn’t need to see anymore. My heart couldn’t bear it.
I opened the door and sat the bag on the seat. Daddy pulled the order to the middle to peek inside, while I climbed back in the truck. “You get the extra sauce?”
“Yes, sir. But three times this week? Seriously? You need to admit that to Momma. Her healthy eating regimen is making you eat even worse. Greasy bar food isn’t meant to be consumed more than once a week, Daddy. And even that’s a lot for you. Enough to kill you.”
Daddy sighed. “I’d much rather eat your momma’s greasy food, but she’s quit frying stuff.”
“That’s because she wants you to live a long time. Jack’s cooking won’t do that.”
“I ain’t gonna fuss with you about this. Your mother gives me enough grief. My granddaddy ate fried food and raw beef up until his ninety-sixth birthday, when he went on to be with the Lord. I’m just fine. Great genetics.”
My great-granddad had lived a long life and I couldn’t argue with that. I sighed and leaned my head back in my seat. I wanted to think about Asher, torture myself by going over all I’d seen at Jack’s, but I knew I had to turn my thoughts to something else. Anyone else, just not a Sutton boy. Because they all reminded me of Asher. Even the youngest one who appeared part Native American. Their momma looked like that too. The rest were spitting images of their father. My daddy always said, “Vance Sutton reproduced and made twins of himself.”
She’d tell me all about it tomorrow anyway. The girl Asher took to his truck. Who the twins Brent and Bray Sutton ended their heated night with. Who she, Scarlet, made out with in the dark. Or in front of everyone. To her, it didn’t matter. Even though she had her eye on Steel Sutton these days. He was our age, and he was the Sutton boy to pursue for girls in our grade.
“You good with fried chicken? Jack’s cooking up fried chicken. You can run in the back and get a bucket. Get some of them fries of his, too. We’re fending for ourselves tonight.”
Momma went to church on Wednesday nights. Her ladies’ group bagged groceries and delivered them to the needy every week. Truth was she would have made us dinner if daddy had allowed her. But he insisted we would eat out so she wouldn’t need to cook every night, and so we did. Every Wednesday night, just the two of us, and usually it was fried.
“That’s fine with me,” I replied, a small thrill from possibly catching a glimpse of Asher again made my heart race. I didn’t want to act overly excited about chicken from a bar, or Daddy would have gotten suspicious.
“Let me use your phone,” he said, extending his hand to me.
I didn’t have anything to hide from him, so I gave him my phone without any hesitation.
Daddy took my phone and called Jack, telling him what we wanted. “While your momma is gone, we might as well live it up. Reckon you can whip us up some sweet tea?”
Lately, momma was on a health kick. It wouldn’t last long because they never did, but she wanted daddy to consume less sugar and grease, which were the very things he enjoyed the most. She said he’d live longer that way. But he just ended up eating it whenever she wasn’t around. Like tonight, for example.
“Yeah, I can.” I might as well. If I said no, he’d just go get a beer from the case he hid inside the barn. The real kind, not the light version which momma bought for him.
Although the chance was slight I’d see Asher from the back where I’d enter and Jack would send a server, I still couldn’t stop myself from getting giddy at the possibility. I had seen him today at school, and even though he’d talked to me and walked with me to three of my classes, always interested in what I was learning, my grades, and my new friends, I already couldn’t wait to see him again. Because even when everyone around us was calling out his name, trying to get his attention, Asher only paid attention to me.
“Ask Jack to give us extra of that special sauce he makes,” daddy added as I leapt from the truck. He must have been ravenous for extra sodium and a hearty dose of cholesterol.
“Okay,” I replied, thinking to myself about all the mayonnaise and fat in that special sauce and how unhappy Momma would be about that. But I would do whatever he asked and make him happy. Besides, it would give me more time to stand there while the server ran to get the sauce, which gave me a better chance at catching a glimpse of Asher.
The large, heavy wooden door that had been painted red years before I was born was a familiar sight to me. I’d only entered Jack’s through that back door. And only when daddy brought me here. I’d get the food, then pay and leave. I never got to go inside through the front entrance because Daddy didn’t want me in a bar. High school students weren’t served alcohol, but they were allowed inside. Everyone but me because Jack would rat me out.
Brandon Heely was standing just inside the door with a bag of food I knew was ours. “Hey, Brandon,” I said politely. He’d been working here for years even though he should’ve been off at college by now. But he wasn’t and probably never would be because he preferred to flip burgers at Jack’s and riding his motorcycle around Malroy, pretending to be the badass he wanted to be, but never could be.
“Hey, Dix, here’s your order.”
“Thank you,” I replied, reaching forward. “Daddy wants to add some extra special sauce,” I added, praying he had to go to the front to get some from the cooler.
Brandon chuckled. “This is his third time ordering this week. Jack says your momma has him on a diet. Is that true? Because it ain’t working if you ask me.”
Third time! Jeez! Daddy! I hadn’t realized he was sneaking off for greasy bar food that often.
“Yeah. She’ll eventually give up or catch him.”
Brandon sounded amused. “Stay right here. I’ll go get the sauce.”
This was my chance. “Okay.”
As he turned to walk away, I slowly followed behind him. I crept closer to the swinging door and just when I thought I wasn’t going to see anything before it closed in my face, I caught a glimpse of Asher, standing at the pool table, with a grin on his beautiful lips. His arm was propped on Andrea James, Emily’s older, college age sister. She was leaning against him, enjoying herself and Asher doing the same. She worked here, had to be at least twenty, and like her sister Emily, she was gorgeous and curvy. Now I officially hated her.
Andrea was in heels, making her almost as tall as Asher. She was leaning in to whisper in his ear when the door closed and blocked my view of them. I slowly backed away. I’d seen enough. I knew Asher was popular with the older girls. He was popular with all the girls, regardless of their age. They all wanted him because he had it all—looks, charm and mystique. But I wanted him for other reasons altogether. Not that it mattered anyway. I was a kid to Asher, one he was following around to keep safe and protect from bullies at school. I was just a charity case to him and I knew that.
Brandon stepped back through the door with two containers of their famous sauce. “Here you go. Jack said to tell the old man he better not clog his arteries and have your momma up here giving him the what for.”
I forced a smile. “I will. Thanks, Brandon. Have a good night,” I said, before turning to rush out with our order. I was glad I hadn’t gone with Scarlet. I’d seen enough through that door to last me for months. I didn’t need to see anymore. My heart couldn’t bear it.
I opened the door and sat the bag on the seat. Daddy pulled the order to the middle to peek inside, while I climbed back in the truck. “You get the extra sauce?”
“Yes, sir. But three times this week? Seriously? You need to admit that to Momma. Her healthy eating regimen is making you eat even worse. Greasy bar food isn’t meant to be consumed more than once a week, Daddy. And even that’s a lot for you. Enough to kill you.”
Daddy sighed. “I’d much rather eat your momma’s greasy food, but she’s quit frying stuff.”
“That’s because she wants you to live a long time. Jack’s cooking won’t do that.”
“I ain’t gonna fuss with you about this. Your mother gives me enough grief. My granddaddy ate fried food and raw beef up until his ninety-sixth birthday, when he went on to be with the Lord. I’m just fine. Great genetics.”
My great-granddad had lived a long life and I couldn’t argue with that. I sighed and leaned my head back in my seat. I wanted to think about Asher, torture myself by going over all I’d seen at Jack’s, but I knew I had to turn my thoughts to something else. Anyone else, just not a Sutton boy. Because they all reminded me of Asher. Even the youngest one who appeared part Native American. Their momma looked like that too. The rest were spitting images of their father. My daddy always said, “Vance Sutton reproduced and made twins of himself.”
