Page 67 of Moonshine Lullabies

“Price is right if all the parts we would need are in the back there,” Collier remarked.

“Less than a thousand bucks, with the parts? Y’ can’t beat that,” I said.

We went and investigated, talked to the guy, and found out he was a young feller, kind of inexperienced and just done had it with the truck givin’ him fits on fixin’ it. Was it a pretty big job? Yeah, but it wasn’t real hard, and so money traded hands, I got me a bill of sale, and we set off with Collier following me juuuust in case.

It was a good thing we stuck together, because my new little truck gave up tryin’ about a block and a half from the club.

We was gonna hook up my brother’s truck to tow it the rest of the way, but didn’t need to. A couple of the guys from the club jogging down the street to pile in behind it and push. I steered, and we got it up inside the gate around the club’s compound.

“Gonna have to do this the hard way all the way around back,” Chainsaw called out and Louie and Bennie came out from the club and got behind the little truck to help.

We got it down the side of the building and around to the big bay doors that La Croix opened up from the inside. Once the door was open, he came out and helped get me pushed inside. Took a hell of a lot of back and forth to get the damn thing positioned right to get it up on the one car lift they had back in here, but we did it.

“What’s wrong with it?” La Croix asked, eyeing the pile of parts in the bed.

I told him and he nodded.

“Fellas, let’s get this shit unloaded so we can get this up on the lift,” he said.

“Thanks,” I murmured and he nodded.

“Help your man with his shit,” he ordered, and it wasn’t a big deal – I was both happy to have these guys recognize that Collier was mine before anyone said I was his. There was just something about that, I don’t know… guess it made my inner feminist happy. Hell.

By the time Collier, Louie, and I had the back of my brother’s truck unloaded and all the parts dragged on up to the motorcycle lift and the workbench nearby to start workin’ on things, La Croix and Hex had my little truck comin’ apart to fix the clutch and check the transmission.

“Hell, you might not even need to swap these trannies out,” Hex called. “Might be able to save this one as a spare.”

“Or sell it,” I called. “We got the space,” La Croix called. “The more time wears on, the harder these kinds of parts are gonna be to come by.”

“Fair point,” I conceded.

Beers came out and there was just as many club members standing around as there were club members workin’.

I stuck with my man learning small engine repair and the like since I already knew everything goin’ on with my truck. That was just same shit, different model.

By the end of it all, we had a good day and plenty of the work was put in. Neither vehicle was up or running, and after talkin’ it through, it was decided that I’d take J.P.’s truck, drop Collier off at his job, then take myself on in to mine. I’d be late getting back to the city to pick up Collier, but Hex had waved us off on that sayin’ he’d pick him up and they’d go check the stills and whatnot.

I guess the Moonshine operation wasn’t a secret to be kept, which I thought was strange, but I was comfortable with all that. I was sure there was plenty more the boys kept well away from us girls and my kid that I wouldn’t be so keen on, but that was the way of this life.

Today had been a nice reminder that there was more to it than all the dark shit and skulking around the law. That if one of the boys or their family needed help, that help was given no questions asked an’ no expectations in return.

It was some food for thought for me, but it was also hard to rub two thoughts together when Collier and I found ourselves alone together back at the apartment that was my temporary home.

We showered together, made love, and then had to shower some more.

It was when we were settled, alarms set for the morning and the magic of the day and the weekend winding down that he took up our book to hand to me.

I guess it was my turn to read in the ballad of Hettie and Cain.

Before I started, though, I had to ask: “Where’s your place?”

“Pardon?” he asked, and I looked up at him as he looked down at me, his one hand massaging my scalp, fingers working deep into my hair – which was thoroughly distracting.

“Where do you live?” I asked with a little chuckle.

He smiled this crooked little smile and said, “I rent this room at this flophouse over yonder,” he said and pointed in a vague direction.

“It’s not someplace I would ever want to take you,” he said honestly. “Most of the other guys in the other rooms around me aren’t the right type of guy. A bunch of addicts and sex offenders and shit.”

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