The Rented Mule (19 page)

Don continued, “It’s just like money. You can never have enough. You always have to work more, to make more, to replace what you’ve spent. It’s a vicious, tiring cycle.”

Mark watched his uncle stare off at the sky, wondering what was really going through his mind.

“They’ll want the property. Believe me. Just like we knew Mercedes wanted that land near Tuscaloosa. It’s set up. I’ve been helping and supporting politicians for years, and it’s time to collect—to turn it into capital.”

Mark decided to test Don and said, “Good. It’s finally
our
turn.” Mark glanced over to judge his uncle’s reaction.

“Why don’t you take him for a boat ride?” Don asked, pointing to Mark’s son, indicating clearly that he was finished with the discussion. It was time for Mark to give him some space. Don looked at his nephew, handed him a life jacket, and added, “Here, put this on him.”

Mark stood still, contemplating his next move. It pissed him off that he never seemed to be able to please Don.

“Take him to see Chimney Rock. Y’all need to spend some time together.”

Mark glared at Don and motioned for his son to follow. The two stepped down into a boat tied to the pier. He now knew that Don was making plans that didn’t include him, and it infuriated him. Don turned and started walking toward the house.

“Dad, can we go fishin’? Can we, please?” the kid asked excitedly, snapping his life jacket buckles and then hopping onto a seat.

“Just why the hell would I wanna do that?” Mark snapped as he untied the boat.

Although Don Daniels was near the shore, he easily heard the exchange. He kept pace, shaking his head in disgust.
Mark’s a rotten board that needs replacin’.

A
rriving at the property around midmorning, Cooper instantly felt invigorated by the sights and sounds of the place. Fall was approaching rapidly, and the woods were on the edge of a change. He paused at a small rocky creek and watched the clear shallow water slowly filter downstream. He loved the sense of peacefulness this place instilled as much as he detested the rushed uncertainty of his everyday existence.

Cooper’s camp was an old two-room wooden shack with a dogtrot separating the sleeping area from the cooking/living area in case of fire. The shack had been in near collapse, but Cooper’s hand had restored it to a marginally acceptable standard over the years. He had spent many restorative nights there during hunting seasons. It was his refuge. No phones, faxes, e-mails, or arguments. It was heaven. About the only annoyance this place had ever generated for Cooper was once when a guest shot an immature buck. Even then, he told himself it was just a deer, and he didn’t allow it to completely ruin his weekend.

Millie Brown was born and raised on this land—being baptized in the creek—and this was precisely why she was willing to take less money to ensure that it remained intact and preserved. Assuring her of this was the only way Cooper would ever be able to afford a property of this caliber.

Cooper had found hundreds of old bricks with rough handprints in them. He called them slave bricks and had carefully stored them to use in a renovation someday.

Millie could not stomach the thought of the property being developed with the old house, barns, and cemetery destroyed. She had fond memories from all over the property. She would make enough money selling the land to Cooper so that she and her husband, Haywood, could retire. They would be able to live comfortably and take care of her church. She always said she personally didn’t need much money, but she wanted to create scholarships for every kid in her church who wished to go to college. That’s all she really wanted. Cooper often pondered the honest simplicity of her philosophy and worldview.

Cooper bounced in the seat of his new tractor and contemplated his life. Tractor time was therapy. It was nearly impossible to explain to someone who didn’t share the same interests, but plowing, bush hogging, and working the land really helped him unwind. Hard work was also his massage therapy.
This tractor’s my midlife crisis… without the big-titted, twenty-something-year-old trophy wife.
The thought made him laugh out loud as he plowed.

His desire to own this place reminded him of what Scarlett O’Hara’s father said in the movie
Gone with the Wind
, “Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for,
worth fightin’ for, worth dyin’ for because it’s the only thing that lasts.”

The property and Brooke were both weighing heavily on him. He knew that if Brooke was at the game, she was there for one reason and he was acutely aware that right now he couldn’t trust himself. He hadn’t been thinking clearly when he invited her. He’d come to the realization that his body wanted more than his conscience would allow.

Cooper knew a few guys who’d had affairs. They all got caught, and most suffered bloody, expensive divorces. It wasn’t the money he was thinking about, it was the toll it would take on everyone. He thought about his kids and Kelly. He had made a vow to Kelly and knew that he wasn’t an every-other-weekend kind of dad—that would be unbearable.

He tried to block out his idealized image of being with Brooke and the memory of her scent. He had to get his mind off her and on to what was required to get his marriage back on course. That much he knew. The honesty of the work was helping him think straight.

Cooper smiled as he remembered when he and Kelly first married. They decided that whenever they had an argument, they would discuss the issue in the nude. That approach worked great for the first few years, but when the kids got older, it became impractical. The memory made him smile.
Those arguments never lasted long. Maybe that’s what we needed to do—fight naked
.

Slowing the tractor to a stop, Cooper wiped sweat from his face. As he stared at the cloudless blue sky, he had a moment of clarity. He would distance himself mentally, physically, and emotionally from all the temptations that Brooke embodied. He briefly thought about surprising Kelly, but the smell of freshly turned dirt made him realize that he
had too much work that still needed to be done. He decided that he’d stay at the camp tonight, cook a steak, and watch the game on satellite television. Cooper felt a huge weight lifting from his shoulders, and he knew that he was back on the right track.

He looked at his cell phone. He had just enough bars of service to send a text, but not enough to make a call. He very deliberately, but without going into any details, texted Brooke that he couldn’t make it to the game. He considered texting Kelly but was too mentally fried to write something meaningful about their relationship, so he just slipped his phone into his pocket and shifted the tractor into gear.

As the plow bit hard into the earth, Cooper resolved to repair his relationship with Kelly. He wasn’t going to let their marriage turn into anymore of a cliché than it already was. If it failed now, it wouldn’t be for a lack of trying on his part.

C
larence tried not to laugh as he watched Maynard walk forcefully into the convenience store. Maynard had on his “King specs” and was wearing a pair of too tight, faded gray jeans, held up by black clip-on suspenders. His shirt was a bright long-sleeved deep purple with a spread collar. Maynard had completed his desired look with a black and light purple diagonally striped tie, pulled tight. His natural jet-black hair was a poorly dyed, odd shade of brown.

Clarence slapped his knee and turned to Jesse Ray, who was wearing a wig and a woman’s jogging suit, complete with a stuffed bra of Ziploc bags filled with creamy peanut butter. He couldn’t suppress the laughter anymore and let roar, “Wow! I wish… oh my goodness, I wish Jenny could see y’all!”

“Yeah, well… the main thing is that woman ain’t gonna have a clue I’m dangerous till I’ve chloroformed her. She’ll never see me as a threat,” Jesse Ray said a little too defensively while adjusting his bosom.

“It’s a damn good thing it’ll be dark. Otherwise, you’d scare the crap outta her.”

“Look, you just get your big ass over to me as fast as you can. I won’t be able to carry her very far.”

“Don’t you worry none, Mizz Daisy. I bees only fiddy yards away in them thar trees.” Clarence chuckled. He was doing his best to impersonate the Morgan Freeman character in the movie.

When Clarence saw Maynard coming out of the store, he said, “All right, let’s get this party started!”

Maynard opened the rear driver’s side door of the Escalade and climbed in. He handed Clarence and Jesse Ray each a large canned drink and then fastened his seat belt.

Jesse Ray said, “What the hell’s this, Cuz? I wanted Red Bull.”

“Neuro Fuel. This stuff’s way better than any energy drink. It’s loaded with things that accordin’ to what the can says, ‘may increase the brain’s healthy nerve function and structure to enhance coordination, intelligence, and recovery,’ and the way I look at it, we need all the help we can get—might as well come in a can.”

Jesse Ray and Clarence exchanged glances and opened their drinks as Clarence pulled away from the store.

Clarence said to Jesse Ray, “I wanna go over the list one more time to make sure we got everything we need.”

“Whoa, shit, man,” Jesse Ray replied, after taking a long pull off his drink and then turning to Maynard. “This stuff’s righteous, dude!” Jesse Ray held out his fist to bump with Maynard.

“Told ya.” Maynard smiled.

“Let’s focus, boys,” Clarence interjected and then to Jesse Ray said, “You got the chloroform, radios and earpieces,
duct tape and zip ties, keys to the hideout, matching purse and shoes?” Clarence started laughing.

Jesse Ray said angrily, “Come on now, be serious,” adjusting his fake boobs with both hands.

Two of the three men broke out laughing.

After regaining his composure, Clarence said, “Okay. You’re right. Sorry. Tonight when you’re done with those things, I wanna make a sandwich.” He started laughing again. After a moment, he added, “J-Ray you’ve single-handedly given new meaning to PB and J!”

He then reached over to turn up the music on the car’s stereo. He was feeling the rush from his plan coming together, or maybe it was the Neuro Fuel kicking in.

N
ot long after Cooper had left, Kelly Dixon went to the spa, enjoying a mud bath and a facial. She returned home just in time to relieve the sitter, pick up Ben, and take him to the birthday party. Afterward, she looked at a new Suburban, loaded with every available accessory including a DVD player. Her Volvo was out of vogue. She needed something new. She envied the other soccer moms’ big comfortable SUVs. Kelly promised to call the salesman next week and then headed to East Chase Mall for some power shopping.

She had $1,300 worth of clothes on the counter when she was informed that her credit card had been declined. Incredulous, she gave them another card, which was also promptly declined. Kelly Dixon was coming unglued. Several store clerks walked off to avoid laughing in her face. She demanded that they retry all the cards. Again, all were declined. Growing increasingly furious, she called Cooper.

“Kelly, what can I do? I paid the bill last week,” a confused Cooper replied, wishing he hadn’t answered and was
surprised that he had strong enough service to talk.
Just my luck
.

Kelly walked away from the sales counter in an attempt at privacy, but the clerks could clearly hear everything she said.

“Well, obviously your sorry ass didn’t. You’re always forgettin’ things, important things! You’re gonna destroy our credit.” There was venom in her tone. The clerks rolled their eyes at each other and did their best to maintain a modicum of composure.

“Kelly, I promise to you, I made payments. I didn’t pay them off, but I made the minimum payments. It’s gotta be some kinda computer error.”

“I think you did this on purpose. You’re always complainin’ about me using my cards. If I find out that you canceled them, I swear to God, I will make your life a livin’ hell,” she whispered into the phone.

“So tell me, how would I know the difference?” Cooper passively asked, standing next to his pickup in the serene woods.

He immediately remembered his pledge to fix their relationship, regretted the words, and said, “I’m sorry, Kelly. Look, I’m sorry. I need to tell you somethin’.”

“Oh, I’ll tell you somethin’ when I see you again. I’m just gettin’ started, buddy boy. Get this card situation fixed. NOW!” Kelly punched the End button as hard as she could, jammed the phone into her purse and marched back to the counter.

Kelly forced a smile and said, “My husband thinks it must be a computer error. He’s talking with them now. I’ll tell you what. I’ll just get the shoes and that blouse and write y’all a check.” She pulled her matching wallet from her purse.

“Yes, ma’am. Don’t worry, this kinda thing happens all the time,” the assistant store manager replied reassuringly.

“Thank you. You’ve been so nice. Please hold that merchandise for me. I’ll be back for it on Monday.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she answered and began to carefully fold the expensive clothes and label the bundle with Kelly Dixon’s name.