Home Is Where Your Boots Are by Kalan Chapman Lloyd Read Free Book Online Page A

headed toward main street and the only bar in town.
    Chester’s was a karaoke bar with a small stage, a big bar, and a room off the back where patrons played pool. My uncl e actually owned the bar; Chester was actually his name ; and yes, much to my father’s dismay, we actually claimed him as family. Chester was a character. He had thick white hair and a beard the same color, along with his ruddy nose and broken capillary complexion. This gave hi m the appearance of Santa Claus, save for the pearl snap shirts, chest hair and gold bling hanging from his neck.
    He was married to Nonnie’s sister, Jewel, who taught third grade Sunday school at the First Baptist Church.
    I swung onto Main Street and the car chatter went silent. We all searched the street for our prey.
    “There it is,” Tally started, almost leaping out of her seat. The white Envoy sat, for all to see, parked in front of Chester’s. Any self-respecting man with a significant other knew to park in back of the bar and not advertise their presence and start the gossip grapevine.
    “Well that is a fine piece of horse shit,” Char harrumphed, “Look at the man, parked on the street, like the uppity asshole that he is. Honey, if he’s not any smarter’n that, you don’t want him.”
    “He’s not a manly man, you can tell that. Any man that drives a soccer mom car isn’t worth the toilet paper he wipes his butt with,” Tally agreed.
    “I’m parking around back, y’al l get ready. Remember the drill. D o it fast, do it silent, and get out of there. We got a five-minute limit. Everybody got their stuff?” I was back to taking charge. My adrenaline was hyped. I’m t elling y’all, don’t get therapy. G et even.
    Fae Lynn passed the dead goldfish back to Char and held up the small metal tool. Grace passed out the cheese to Mama and Jacqueline. Nonnie gathered up her sack of dead varmint and handed me the gun. Tally turned in the back seat and produced a small white bag.
    “What is that?” I drawled, warily.
    “Dog shit,” Tally grinned. Man if she wasn’t evil, “and a spatula, to spread it around.”
    “Shit,” Fae Lynn smiled, shaking her head at Tally and her antics.
    “Exactly,” Tally said slyly. I parked behind the bar , and we all took a collective deep breath.
    “Let’s do it,” I placed my hand on the door handle. ”Go!”
    We piled out of the car and scurried around the building. Grace, Mama and Jacque went to work stuffing goat, Gouda and Muenster in the tailpipe. Fae Lynn went to work on the tires, while Tally opened her sack and took up her spatula. Char popped the hood and emptied the sack of fish into the engine as Nonnie tied the dead skunk around the antenna. I took up the gun and made short work of my assignment. Four minutes and seventeen seconds later we were back in the car where we had left Brandy. I envisioned the look on Adam’s face when he walked out of Chester’s and saw his new white Envoy smeared with dog shit on the hood and ‘Die Bitch’ spelled out down both sides with neon splats from a paintball gun, smells of dead fish and cheese emanating from the interior and a dead skunk dangling from the antenna, not to mention the four flat tires. Fae Lynn turned and handed Brandy four small rubber pieces.
    “Here’s a souvenir, honey. He won’t get very far without his valve stems. Daddy could use the extra business. That’s where he’ll come to get new tires.”

Chapter Nine
     
    I was feeling more like me. I was sporting a crisp white David Meister with pintucked pleats around a boat neck with a skinny black patent belt and matching Stuart Weitzman pointy-toed stilettos. I’d stolen my mom’s Chi, straightened my hair and lacquered it down. Nonnie had sent me off with a specially purchased recycled to-go cup of coffee to which she’d added toffee-flavored creamer. I had a legal pad under my arm, a file folder in hand, and was assertively clicking my way up the sidewalk to the courthouse for a