My neighbor caught me trying to break one of the windows out. I ran, but not fast enough, because the cops showed up on my doorstep the next day. I got off with a warning, thankfully, since a record could’ve fucked my chances at becoming a SEAL. But the worst part of it was, Pate stopped by the following day and beat my ass bloody for letting him down.
That beatdown really soured me on the Dixie Mafia. They went from badass heroes to a bunch of petty thugs practically overnight.
I enlisted in the military not long later. There were other reasons, good fucking reasons, but that was one of them. My brother was another reason.
I snapped back to reality and pressed my ear against the door again. The crying had stopped or moved into another room, so I figured it was time to get in there before the ice melted. I unlocked the door and stepped inside.
Hartley was sitting on the chair, looking blindly toward the bathroom.
“Got the ice,” I said.
She looked at me and nodded. “Thanks.”
Her bruise had gotten worse it seemed in the last ten minutes. I walked into the bathroom and grabbed a little towel and then wrapped it around some ice. I gave the towel to Hartley, and she pressed the thing against her eye.
The sun was beginning to set outside as I walked over to the dresser and pulled out a drawer. Inside was a nice bottle of whisky I’d bought on my way into town, just for this sort of occasion. I grabbed two glasses, opened the bottle, and poured us drinks. I returned to the table, putting the glass in front of her and holding on to mine.
She tried to smile weakly. “I must look like a mess.”
“Actually, I’ve never been fucking harder,” I said. “A woman with a black eye and running makeup does it for me.”
“That’s sick,” she said, laughing.
“What can I say? I can overlook certain defects in favor of certain other qualities.”
“What sort of qualities are you talking here?”
“For example, those lips of yours. And fuck, that body in that pretty dress. Every man in that bar probably wanted you.”
She smiled weakly. “I doubt it. They were all too drunk to notice.”
“I noticed,” I said seriously. “Couldn’t keep my eyes off you.”
She blushed and looked away. “What were you doing in there anyway?”
“Killing time,” I said. “I was on my way to visit my brother.”
“He live in town?”
“Something like that,” I said, avoiding her question. “If it’s time to ask questions, I think we ought to have a talk.”
She sighed and nodded. “I guess you want to know what that was all about.”
“Seems like a good place to start.”
“There’s not much to the story, honestly. When the recession hit, my family’s peach farm started bleeding money. We took a loan from the mafia just to stay afloat. Years later, they wanted us to pay up, so I came here hoping to make a deal or at least to work off the debt.”
I shook my head, completely fucking amazed. “Are you insane?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. They seemed reasonable at first.”
“Fucking reasonable,” I said, laughing. “Let me guess. They wanted you to fuck your way out of debt?”
“Pretty much,” she said. “I was working at a diner near here, giving them every cent I made, but it wasn’t enough.”
“Can’t imagine that would be,” I said. “You’re one brave girl. You know that?”
“I don’t feel brave,” she said.
But she really fucking was. Any person who would come to the heart of Knoxville and offer to work for the Dixie Mafia to pay off a family’s debt was very fucking brave. Maybe a little fucking stupid, maybe a little naïve, but very, very brave.
“What’s your plan now then?” I asked her.
“Like I said. I’m heading out of town, back home.”
“They’ll follow you.”
“Probably, but at least there they won’t be able to rape me in the middle of the day.”
I grunted, nodding. “Very true.”
I sipped my drink as we lapsed into a short silence. She took a tentative sip before knocking her whole drink back. I laughed and poured her another.
“You can’t seem to win,” she said when I finished pouring. “You can’t win when you’re a good person. These bastards, they always seem to get the upper hand.”
“What makes you say that?” I asked, sitting back down.
“That’s just the way it is. Everyone knows it. Honest people get screwed.”
“Maybe that’s true,” I admitted, “but you should be dead in a ditch somewhere, if we’re being honest. You’re pretty lucky yourself.”