“A job? You mean you offered them a jail cell to push your fucking guns, cocaine, and x,” Lynne retorted.
“Oh, don’t you get all high and mighty on me, Miss Oxycontin Queen. Your hands are just as dirty as mine. Your people run pills, they run meth too, might I add, and they run fucking shine up and down the coast, not to mention the AK-47s they push on the down-low. So don’t try and sound all prim and proper when speaking to me. You might look like a lady, but you sure as hell don’t act like one,” JJ spat back.
The server walked in, handing JJ his bottle of bourbon and Lynne her glass of Scotch, which she set on the table in front of her.
“At least my family never closed the mines and put innocent people into a predicament where they have to choose to either move or live like a criminal to make ends meet. Do you think your father would approve of this?” she demanded.
“Don’t you fucking dare bring my ole man into this, you bitch,” JJ seethed. “How about this? I’ll close the mines and plop a big, fat ole strip club there. The whores in the holler would have a job that would never end,” JJ chuckled.
“You’re such a pig. Mark my words, JJ. Stay the fuck out of my holler,” Lynne shouted, kicking at the table in between them.
Her glass of Scotch went flying across the table, splashing on JJ’s suit.
“Your holler?!” JJ demanded, jumping to his feet. “I think you need to take a step back, Princess, and realize that I own the fucking South. I own every single person in that town if I wish to. The fucking holler ain’t yours. It’s mine by birthright.”
“Oh, you think yer a holler boy?” Lynne laughed. “You ain’t shit, JJ. Holler boys would die to keep their own happy and healthy. Yer just a criminal playing with power.”
“Get the fuck out of my club,” JJ hissed. “And the next time you address me, you address me by my name, which is Jackson. No one calls me JJ anymore. Not even whores like you from the holler.”
“Gladly, there’s too many people snorting cocaine off the bathroom toilets for my taste here anyways,” she replied as she stood from her seat and hustled out of the room.
JJ wiped the scotch off of his suit with a napkin and waved his hand. One of the bodyguards walked in, and he told them to watch his booth while he ran to his office. The bodyguard nodded as JJ disappeared through the hidden door behind the curtains behind him. JJ walked to the closet and opened the door to find the extra suits he kept in there in case of spills. He loosened his tie and tugged it off, balled it up, and threw it across the room. He ran his hand through his hair before punching the wall beside the closet. That was not how any of this ever played out in his head whenever he thought of running back into Lynne.
He unbuttoned his shirt as he mumbled and murmured his outrage and fury under his breath. He fished a new shirt out of the closet and tossed it on, then removed his pants, kicking them away from his feet. He didn’t want to smell like he bathed in bourbon. He’d never get the smell out of his car if he had climbed in with those clothes. He finished buttoning his pants and shirt, leaving the cuffs of the shirt open and rolled up.
JJ walked over to his desk and sat down in his chair, rubbing his face in his hands. He picked the phone up, dialed a number, and leaned back in his chair, placing his feet up on the desk.
“Sheriff’s office, how can I help ya,” the thick, country accent rolled out.
“Hi, sheriff. This is Jackson Alexander. How are you doing? How’s the family?” JJ asked.
The sheriff stammered, “Mr. Alexander. What a pleasure. We are doing mighty fine. Thank ya, sir, fer asking. What can I do for ya?”
“I would like to report a crime in my town,” JJ began with a smile.
Chapter Nine
Lynne nearly tripped and fell through the doors of the wretched club JJ owned. She was disgusted with him. He had completely changed after his father died and became a mirror image of him. No, scratch that. JJ’s father wouldn’t have shut the mines down while they were profiting. He had a bigger heart than that being from the holler himself. JJ’s dad was a holler boy, but JJ sure the hell wasn’t anymore. Lynne flagged down a taxi and hopped in the back.
“Airport, please,” she requested.
“Yes, ma’am,” the taxi driver replied.
The taxi ride to the airport was quiet as Lynne went over everything JJ had said. She couldn’t believe how the sweet, quiet boy she went to school with was now this sleazy disgusting pig that she saw tonight. Whatever it was that changed him should have buried him instead. As they approached the terminal for the airport, several police cars came up behind them with their sirens and lights on.
“You weren’t speeding, were you?” Lynne asked, glancing behind her through the rearview mirror.
One of the cars blipped the siren to warn them to pull over this instance.
“No, I wasn’t,” the taxi driver replied with a suspicious tone.
He pulled the taxi over on the side of the road and rummaged for his driver’s license and registration card to hand to the police when they asked. However, instead of walking to his window, they threw the back doors open where Lynne was sitting and dragged her from the car.
“Let me go!” she screamed and kicked. “Get your hands off of me!”
“If you resist, we have permission to beat your pretty little ass, beautiful. So, I suggest you comply,” the police officer cooed.
“Who the fuck do you think you are? I haven’t done anything wrong! I haven’t broken any laws or committed any crimes!” Lynne replied, trying to wrestle her arms from the hands of the two cops that held her.
“We got a call from the sheriff in your town. He said to detain you so you could be transported back through extradition on felony charges,” the policeman replied.
“And what are those charges?” Lynne demanded.
“Seems like you stole some money at gunpoint from one of your Johns you were hooking,” the cop laughed.
“I’m not a fucking prostitute!” Lynne screamed and spat in the cop’s face.
He wiped it away and backhanded her. “I don’t care if you’re fucking the Pope, bitch. I got orders to bring your ass in. You can be brought in the easy way, or I can beat the fuck out of your hillbilly ass. The choice is yours, darlin’.”
Lynne looked past the cop to the person walking up through the flashing lights. She squinted to see the face of the shadowy apparition, and her blood boiled.
“I should’ve known it was you! You fucking dick!” Lynne shrieked, trying to tear loose from the cop's grasp.
“Oh, you were always so beautiful when you were all ramped up and angry,” JJ replied with a smirk, dragging his finger across her face. “I got it from here, boys. Put the cuffs on her and throw her in my backseat.”
“Where are you taking me?” Lynne asked with a nervous glance at the cops.
“Why, I am taking you home myself,” JJ replied with a fake grin. “I thought we could spend some time catching up the proper way instead of you barging into my club, throwing around your threats.”
The cops put some handcuffs onto Lynne, and JJ walked them to his car.
“She can ride up front,” he said as he hopped into the driver seat.
The cops pushed Lynne through the open passenger door and shut it behind her.
“Leave the hinges next time,” JJ hissed through gritted teeth.
“Sorry, boss,” the cop replied back. “Won’t happen again.”
“Boss?” Lynne asked. “You’re fucking kidding me, right?”
JJ scrunched his face into a huge, teeth showing grin. “Not only them. I have so many PD’s on my payroll across the states, it ain’t funny,” JJ replied, putting the car into drive and peeling out from the spot he had parked it.
“So, you’re going to drive us all the way back to Sycamore Holler from Hollywood?” Lynne asked sarcastically.
“Yes,” JJ replied seriously.
Lynne groaned loudly, “Ughhhhhhh. I don’t want to be stuck in a fucking car wit
h you for three days.”
“Well, you should’ve thunk about that before you acted all Billy badass in my club,” JJ jeered, exaggerating his accent. “Besides, the sites are beautiful to drive through. I think you would appreciate it all.”
“Doubtful,” Lynne shot back as she turned her attention out the window of the Bentley. “Why are you driving such an expensive car for? California dreaming, are we?” she asked.
“Why does it matter what I drive? Just enjoy the ride,” JJ replied quietly, taking the exit from Hollywood to hit the interstate.
The city lights began to fade in the distance as JJ hit ninety-five miles per hour, weaving through traffic up the interstate.
“Kinda hard to enjoy the sights when yer speeding like a bat out of hell,” Lynne chided.
“It’s the speed limit,” JJ replied, balling his hands on the steering wheel then releasing them.
They rode in silence for about thirty minutes.
“What are you doing running meth and oxys, Lynne,” JJ asked.
“Well, I could ask you why yer running ecstasy and cocaine too, but we both know why. Money talks and bullshit walks,” Lynne replied.
“Cocaine is a fun drug. So is ecstasy. They’re a party drug. The people that do those drugs wake up the next day and take their happy asses to work. They don’t run around the holler stealing from Peter to pay Paul so they can get another bean or to get another fucking bump while tweaking and geeking,” JJ replied.
“It’s not my responsibility what they do after they take their drugs. It’s not my fault they get addicted. I just supply them with what they ask for,” she offered back.
“But, it is your fault,” JJ shot at her. “How can you honestly sit there and say it’s not your fault or your responsibility. You just claimed the holler as yours, but you don’t even take care of the fucking holler. Instead, you run it into the ground with your bullshit drugs that ruin more lives and land more people in jail than fucking murder does.”
“You know what it’s like to live the life we live, JJ. Don’t act like yer above it because yer not,” Lynne replied.
“I told you to call me Jackson!” he yelled.
Lynne continued on, “I made myself a nice living after Daddy died. I got a honky-tonk bar that’s doing good. The boys in the holler are fed and clothed. They know if they need anything at all, I am right there for ‘em. What have you offered ‘em in the last seven years except ‘em losing their job at the mine?” she asked.
“I offered them life. The shit you’re doing, they’ll be dead soon because all meth and oxys lead to is a needle in the fucking arm. They’re gateway drugs to heroin,” JJ retorted. “That's the sad and hard facts when you deal drugs to people you call family. No matter how much you care about them, you aren't doing them any good by selling them poison. You should remember well what it does to the people you love when Mason and Ellie or do you not remember calling me and blaming yourself for their overdose?”
“My boys are just fine,” Lynne replied, completely ignoring everything else.
“You still haven’t changed after seven years,” JJ muttered. “You’re still that eighteen-year-old girl loving the feel of drug money between her fingertips.”
Silence fell between the two, and soon Lynne laid her head onto the door and fell asleep, leaving JJ to drive through the night without a sound to bother him. JJ fished the handcuff key from his pocket and worked it one-handed into the handcuffs, taking them off her wrists and tossing them in the backseat. She shifted slightly in her seat but didn’t stir.
It was close to five a.m. when JJ pulled into a gas station to put some gas in his car. He put the gas nozzle in the tank and checked on Lynne to see if she was awake or asleep. She still had her eyes closed, so he walked off into the store alone and grabbed a coffee from the machine. He grabbed Lynne a cold coffee from the fridge and some snack food. As he was paying for his gas and his bounty, he glanced out the door to see there was some man standing beside his car speaking to Lynne. He tossed the cash on the counter and told the cashier to keep the change as he grabbed his bag and coffee from the counter.
“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t have any money,” he heard Lynne say as he stepped back outside from inside the store.
“Bitch, I know you have money. Look at this fucking car.”
He pulled a gun and pointed it at her face, and she went wide-eyed. Normally, that wouldn’t be her reaction, but she had no weapons of her own to defend herself with. JJ took the lid off his coffee and threw it on the back of the man with the gun. The guy gave a scream of pain and whipped around with his gun. JJ grabbed the hand with the gun and twisted it until he dropped the gun and punched the man squarely in the jaw, knocking him to the ground.
“Now, that’s no way to talk to a southern belle,” JJ said as he kicked the guy in the stomach. “We treat women with respect and courtesy in the south and you west coast dreamers will too.” JJ landed another kick into the guy's stomach. “Now, I want you to apologize for being such a brute to the young lady, and then I want you to get the fuck out of this parking lot.”
The guy coughed and sputtered, “I’m sorry,” before climbing to his feet and limping away from the service station.
“Well, since you’re awake, want a hot coffee?” JJ asked, wiping the blood off of his hands with one of the paper towels that hung with the squeegee to clean your windows at the gas pump.
He took the nozzle from the gas tank and put the cap back on it before closing the lid.
“Coffee would be nice,” she replied meekly.
“Good. I need a cup myself,” he replied as he went back in and grabbed two cups of coffee this time.
The cashier timidly took his money and watched him exit the building. JJ handed Lynne her cup of coffee before he walked to the driver’s side and hopped in with his own coffee. He took a sip from it and plopped it down in the cup holder in the center console.
“Ready to roll?” he asked as he turned the ignition, and the car rumbled alive.
“Yea,” she replied, a bit taken back. “Yea, let’s go.”
JJ pulled out of the parking lot before the cashier could ring the cops up and report an assault in the parking lot. They had made good time overnight and were well into Nevada already. He had mapped out which way to go in his head and wanted to make it through Utah and into Colorado by nightfall.
“Why are we driving back to the holler?” Lynne asked, breaking the awkward silence that fell between the two of them. “I mean, don’t you have a private jet or some shit?”
JJ laughed. “A private jet? Yes, I do. But I don’t like to fly much. I use it mainly if I have to go overseas or something.”
“You don’t like to fly?” she asked, pushing her finger into his arm. “What are ya? Yella belly?”
“Have you seen how many plane crashes there have been in the past twenty years? No thank you, missy,” he replied with a laugh. “Besides, there isn’t much to sightsee when you’re a hundred thousand feet in the air. You can’t smell the cornfields you pass by or the dairy farms. You don’t get to feel the country air whip through your hair.”
Lynne watched JJ long and hard. JJ could feel her eyes boring into the side of his skull.
“What?” he asked.
“Nothing. I just didn’t expect Mr. California to be all country boy,” she replied.
“You can take the boy out of the country, but you can’t take the country out of the boy,” JJ retorted. “I have been a country boy my whole life. Even my daddy couldn’t beat it out of me.”
“You might just be a holler boy after all,” Lynne remarked.
“Oh, really? Because last night I was… what was it… oh, yes. I was just a criminal playing with power… wasn’t… wasn’t that what you said, Princess?” JJ chided.
Lynne smiled and rolled her eyes. “I was pissed last night. Hell, I am still pissed today, don’t get me wrong. But there’s more to you than what you see on the surface. You may be a bucket of rust,
but there is a classic car beneath all that paint and primer.”
“God, you are such a grease monkey, you know that?” JJ jeered and laughed.
“Hey, I like being a grease monkey!” she laughed back. “There’s nothing more in this world I love more than to be elbow deep in a motor changing the rods and pistons to fresh, brand new ones. Or to drain burned oil from the oil pan and put clean, unused oil back in it. Hell, I even love changing them damn spark plugs. In the end, they all let me hear the motor rumble to life and lope. The sweet smell of that exhaust filling the air as it burns the gasoline.”
“Fucking weirdo,” JJ laughed.
“You’re not going to tell me you ain’t no damn grease monkey when we race for pink slips, and you bring out a damn 69 Dodge Charger. Your daddy built that for you too? I don’t think so,” she replied back.
“Oh, I wanted to see the ‘I fucked up’ look in your eyes that night when I rolled up in the Charger. I wanted to see you eat your cocky words,” JJ laughed. “And you did eat your cocky ass words too because I fucking won.”
“Yea, well, I wasn’t going to push you harder than what you were already doing and be the reason you died that night too,” Lynne remarked, going quiet.
“What do you mean by too?” JJ asked.
“I mean, a lot of people died that night. I didn’t want to be the reason your name was added to that list,” Lynne explained.
Chapter Ten
“I’m not even hungry!” Lynne protested as JJ pulled the car into the parking lot.
“This place has the best pulled pork in all of Nevada,” JJ protested.
“Of course, you would say that. They have your name in their business name,” Lynne replied, rolling her house and pointing to the sign that read JJs Rub Shack.
“That is irrelevant,” JJ replied with his hands on his hips. “Lots of people are nicknamed JJ.”
JJ held the door open for Lynne and followed her through.
“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” a woman behind the counter called out.
Them Holler Boys (A Southern Outlaw Series Book 1) Page 12