Page 21 of Rough
The cloying scent of flowers and vanilla wafts down the stairs from where Trina is holed up. The sounds of her hair dryer the only thing cutting through the tense silence of the room.
Wilder is glancing between us, mouth opening and closing as if he wants to ask a question. I know whatever he wants toask, I won’t have an answer, so I change his focus. “Murph head home?”
“Yeah. Said he’s gonna do some job huntin’. Thinkin’ about lookin’ at other farms in the area that might need a hand.” His fingers dance over his thighs where he’s sitting at the end of the couch. “Can’t believe she fuckin’ fired him like that.”
My smile spreads, but it’s not from happiness. “Yeah,” I breathe out. “Might’ve been a poor decision on her part. Don’t know how she’s gonna handle the farm all alone.”
“That’s the plan, then?” Clyde clips out without raising his head. He’s studying his nails, working that toothpick aggressively between his teeth. “We gonna get rid of all her workers?”
I don’t get to answer because the click of heels on the stairs draws our attention.Fuck me. Trina arrives in the room looking like a million bucks and straight out of a country music video. I’m not really into her all that much, but I can appreciate when she looks good, especially when she’s going out for the evening.
“You boys ready to go?” Her eyes roam over us, appreciation written all over her face. “Because I sure could use a drink.”
Swallowing, I step forward and hold my hand out to the door. “Yup. Let’s head out. You look great, Trina.”
The smile she gives me over her shoulder as she walks ahead is full of invitation, but I don’t let myself head in that direction. Developing anything with this woman would cause problems down the road if things didn’t end well.
By the time we show up at the bar downtown, everyone seems to be more relaxed. The goal tonight is to figure out who’s working for Betsy and give them a little elbow in the right direction. Let them know that working for someone who’s untrustworthy will fuck them over if they’re not careful. It’s not the best, but we’re working on short notice.
The cheers as we walk in bring a genuine smile to my face. Most of the people we knew before we left are still here. Nothing ever changes in Broken Ridges. Nothing except Betsy Harper.
Wilder throws his hands in the air, slapping hands and clapping shoulders as we weave our way through tables to the bar. I feel Trina lean into my body when some of the guys come to greet us, so I usher her through the crowd ahead of me with a hand on her back.
It’s not even five minutes that we’ve been here when I see some of the younger kids Murphy mentioned helping out at Harper’s farm, and I zero in on them. Lifting my chin in their direction, I call, “Save us some seats, boys! We got some catchin’ up to do!”
With a whoop, they start dragging chairs to their table as we order a round of beers for us and them. Bribery goes a long way, so plying them with drinks is my first plan of action.
The four of us settle into the chairs, waiting on the bartender to bring over glasses and pitchers. I study all of them, my eyes staying longer on Emmett and Jeff. I know these two work the most for Betsy, so losing them is going to hit her the hardest.
Once the pitchers arrive, Wilder and I pour for everyone, and we clink glasses before tossing them back.
“So, tell me guys. Whatcha been up to since we left?”
And so it begins. Vengeance has never felt sweeter.
Chapter Nine
Clyde
Last night went a lot longer than I wished it had. Remy and Wilder kept the pitchers coming long past midnight. Long enough to plant doubts of Betsy into some of her under the table employees, followed by Wilder and Trina telling them how amazing things are outside of town.
“Don’t waste your time here. Get graduated and make a name for yourself. You don’t wanna get stuck as a hand all your life, especially with someone who ain’t gonna get you anywhere.”
That one comment really bothered me, but I kept my lips pressed together for the whole night, outside of a few answers when someone asked me something directly.
One thing I did settle on while the rest of them were running their mouths was that I was going to talk to Betsy today. I’m not convinced that she set out to screw over the Landrys, but I got some questions of my own that need answers. It doesn’t make sense, and I can’t argue her side if I don’t have the facts.
The guys and I are sitting around the table for breakfast again, Renee quietly setting bowls of eggs, biscuits, and gravydown. There’s already a half-eaten plate of bacon in the center, along with fried potatoes and sausage.
I smile in thanks to her when she sits in Donny’s chair and looks us all over. Finally, while pouring a glass of orange juice from the pitcher, she speaks. “You boys had a late night, huh? The grease should settle those hangovers for ya right quick.”
Wilder groans into his coffee, then chuckles softly. “Definitely won’t hurt. Thanks for cookin’, momma. You’re an angel.”
Renee eyes Remy after nodding to Wilder. “Remington. How you doin’ this morning? Need anythin’? I’m gonna run a few loads of laundry and make a plan for the weekend for when everyone comes over after dad’s funeral.”
Remy flinches at the reminder. “Mom, I gotta ask you. The hell was dad thinkin’, signin’ over the farm to Harper? It leaves you with nothin’ here. Everythin’s gone in the barns. The animals and horses. Tools. Tractors. It’s all gone!”
His voice picks up in speed by the end, his tone gaining strength the further he goes along with his complaints. I can see him fighting for control, not wanting to start something with Renee only days after her husband died.
