Total pages in book: 61
Estimated words: 58874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 58874 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 294(@200wpm)___ 235(@250wpm)___ 196(@300wpm)
“It’s July,” Tyson said.
“What kind of shit?” Tor asked.
“Something about her being a snitch, I think.”
“What’s she going to snitch about?” Trey asked. “The only intel Vickie has is the name of her dealer and there’s no way she’s giving that up.”
“That is strange,” Tor said. “Jule, hand me the coupling.”
He looked around at the various parts and tools strewn around them.
“That one.” Tyson pointed at a black rubber cylinder at Jule’s feet. “Yeah, like I said, it didn’t make sense.”
Jule squatted at the edge of the trench and handed Tor the coupling. “What does that do?”
“It’s going to make the bathroom in this thing useable, so we don’t all have to share the one in the house.” He started attaching the coupling to the trailer, his arm flexing from bicep to forearm. Tor wasn’t especially big, his brothers and Jule were all taller and weighed more, but he was powerful, his body comprised entirely of sinewy muscles. He had no trouble holding Jule down when he had him bent over. “I’m connecting this to the waste outlet on one end and then I’ll connect it to this PVC pipe we laid”—he tapped his foot against a white plastic pipe that ran down the entire trench—“on the other end. I’ve already got the pipe tied into the sewer.”
“How’d you learn to do that?” Trey asked.
“The internet and common sense.” Tor twisted some sort of screwdriver into the metal ring around the coupling. “Stop getting wasted all the time and you’d have more of it. You could learn to do this too.”
“Fuck off,” Trey said.
“I mean it.”
“Why are you giving me a hard time? It’s not like I’m getting high.”
Tor lowered his arm and shifted his cool gaze from the underside of the trailer to his brother. “Because you’re drunk. Right now. Every day.” Like always, his tone was calm, voice low. “Do you want to turn out like your father?”
“Go to hell,” Trey spat. He rose to his feet, but he was wobbly.
“There’s a meeting every night at six at the Mennonite Church. I looked it up. I’ll go with you if you want,” Tor offered.
“Fuck you.” He turned and walked toward the side of the house. “I’m out of here.”
“Trey,” Tyson said. “He’s right.”
His back to them, Trey held up his hand, middle finger raised.
“I’m worried about you,” Tor called after him.
His steps faltered. “I’ll be back later.” He walked around the house toward the front yard.
“You think he’ll listen?” Jule asked quietly. Tor had a good point about his brother. Trey had been drinking way too much.
“Eventually,” Tor said, continuing to work on the trailer. “Ty, what’d you say about Vickie being a snitch? What does that mean?”
“No idea.” Tyson shook his head. “I think maybe he accused her of fucking a cop?” He scrunched his nose, sniffed, and then took a drag off his cigarette. “She wasn’t clear. I think we’d know if a cop came around here so either she doesn’t understand what set him off or John Jones has the wrong information.”
Tor scooted out from under the trailer, stood up, and then jumped out of the trench. He looked back and forth between Jule and Tyson as he wiped his hands on his jeans. “Either that or he considers the state attorney general to be a cop.”
“Fuck,” Tyson breathed out. He dropped his cigarette into the dirt and ground it out with his shoe.
“Yeah,” Tor nodded.
That was bad. Very bad. “Should I go inside and warn my dad?” Jule asked. His father was in the bedroom with Vickie, as usual.
“Probably.” Tor nodded. “Let’s—”
Shouting from inside the house cut him off. They all turned toward the sound.
“Trav and Tan are at work, right?” Jule said. “I thought Trey left.”
“They are.” Tyson was frowning at the house as he took a step forward. “He did.”
Tor was completely still. “Oh, fuck me.” He reached for Tyson and gripped his arm. “Get him out of here.” His voice was rough, panicked. Jule had never heard him sound like that.
“Who?” Jule asked. “Trey?”
“That’s not Trey,” Tyson said again, his voice shaking that time.
“Jule, you need to leave right fucking now,” Tor snapped.
“Why? What’s—”
Before he could finish his sentence, a loud bang rang through the air.
“Ty, get him the fuck out of here.” Tor started running toward the house.
“What’s going on?” Jule asked. Tyson grabbed him and started pulling. “What are you doing?” Jule tried to shake him off. “Tor!”
Another bang rang out.
“Jule, we need to leave.” Tyson snaked his arm around Jule’s waist and hefted him over his shoulder. He wasn’t taller than Jule, but he was built. Every time Tyson got locked up, he seemed to gain another ten pounds of muscle. They liked to joke that he kept getting caught as part of a workout plan.
“Ty, what the fuck? What’s happening? Where’d Tor go?”