Dirty South Drug Wars

by Jae Hood

  *

  After the paperwork was signed, Tanner and I drove to Oxford to check out our newly inherited house. I stared at the passing scenery, at the Christmas decorations strung on wooden porches, at the twinkle lights hanging from the houses. I watched, but I really didn’t see anything at all. I saw nothing but an endless future ahead of me, and as exciting as it was, it was equally as terrifying.

  I was not only leaving Tanner’s house and Birchwood, but I was leaving my family, my home, my hometown. My family would linger behind. My friends were no longer around. Christine and Lucy were gone, and I no longer knew who I was anymore. If I wasn’t Lucy’s caretaker and confidant, or my mother’s oldest, more responsible yet feisty kid, then who was I? Where did I belong in the world?

  Warm fingers curling around mine were my unspoken answer. Tanner shot me a lazy, comforting smile as he hit his blinker and pulled the Mustang onto a quiet street. Evidence of the changing season lined the street in the form of bare trees and dying grass. Kids played on the sidewalks, running and laughing in their winter coats.

  “This neighborhood is beautiful. These homes are gorgeous.” My breath fogged the window with each word I spoke.

  The vehicle slowed and nosed into a long drive at the very end of the road, and the breath was drawn from my chest.

  Tanner cut the engine, and we found ourselves in a thick silence. My eyes widened at the sight before me. I had to remind myself to breathe. Sucking in a deep breath, I fumbled with the door handle, ignoring Tanner’s low chuckle once more.

  Pulling the sleeves of my hoodie past my fingers, I stood and gaped at the house. The two-story home stood before me, tall and regal. The white paint was peeling back across the surface, curling upward toward the sun. The balcony above the front door was missing pieces of curved railing.

  The rectangular windows of the bottom floor were broken and cracked, the blackness within staring at me like the eyes of the dead. The overgrown grass had begun to fade and wilt. The yard was shriveled and partly barren. Graffiti splashed against the square columns, the red and blue fighting against one another in violent strokes.

  “It’s falling apart,” Tanner said, wrapping his arms around me from behind. “I know nothing about restoring old houses, but I kinda love this place.”

  “Me too.”

  My voice came out in a whisper. I saw that old house transform before me. I saw new paint and green grass, replaced windows and wooden rails. I saw the Christmas tree Lucy and I never had. It peeked through the curtains with white, twinkling lights. I saw picnics in the backyard and a pink bassinet by our bed. I saw our first child, a girl, with my sister’s blue eyes and pink lips pulled back in a smile as breathtaking as Tanner’s. I saw family. Melissa, Graham, Chance, Bryce, Josie, Brodie, Shelby, and my grandmother. I saw weddings and births, love and romance, first fights and a grumbling husband occasionally sleeping on the couch.

  I saw my life with Tanner.

  *

  Life tended to work out in our favor when we least expected it.

  Tanner always dreamed of medical school, something he’d turned down once he made the decision to stay behind another year with me. But time and money talked, and it wasn’t long before he heard back from Ole Miss. I’d never forget the day he received the letter in the mail. His smile was a country mile wide, cracking across his face louder than the thunder.

  Melissa was a wreck the day we left. She tried to hold back her tears, bless her heart, but the tears came nevertheless as she puttered around the house, snatching up random things and tossing them in boxes. Shelby followed her around, sighing and removing things from the boxes, such as Tanner’s fourth grade baseball trophy and a framed Principal’s Award from the second grade.

  Brodie grinned at me from behind the U-Haul we’d rented. He and Tanner loaded the hope chests my grandmother insisted on giving me.

  I could barely speak while my hope chest, then my baby sister’s, was loaded into the back of the vehicle. I thought of that chest, of the things it held. The embroidered, heirloom pillowcases where my sister would never rest her head, my grandmother’s pale-pink prom dress that Lucy would never wear.

  “He’ll take care of you,” my grandmother whispered, pressing her thin lips against my cheek, “in ways his grandfather never took care of me.”

  And then she was gone. She darted across the yard, hanging her head. Her checkered red dress danced in the breeze and her belly pressed against a white apron. The house swallowed her up, with the door closing behind her.

  Warm arms comforted me. Cold tears poured from my eyes. The woman I cared for more than my own mother walked away from me.

  But she gave me so much when she walked away. She gave me a home with the man I loved. She gave me the trinkets she’d saved over the years. And she gave me happy childhood memories of picking vegetables by her side, hot chocolate on cold winter mornings, cedar chests full of hope, just as the name suggested, and love. She gave me a mother’s love.

  *

  Tanner and I had wandered through the rooms of the old house during the weeks that followed our first visit, but the shock of seeing it never seemed to dull.

  Sheets were pulled from the antique furniture. Someone broke out the Dyson. Melissa, Graham, and Shelby arrived around lunch bearing pizza. After lunch we went back to work, scrubbing and polishing, vacuuming and washing. By nightfall the house was clean. The lot of us fell onto various pieces of furniture, tired but proud and accomplished.

  “Did you think about what I said?” Graham asked Tanner. “About the house?”

  “Graham thinks I should find out the story on this house,” Tanner explained. “I don’t see the point. Someone gave it to your Nana then she gave it to us. What’s it matter?”

  “You don’t find it strange? She owned this house for many years, yet never mentioned it to anyone in her family?” Graham asked.

  “Nana’s full of unspoken secrets,” I replied with a shrug. “I’ll admit I’m curious.”

  It was well after midnight when the group bid us goodbye, ignoring our invitation for them to stay behind.

  Tanner pressed himself into the small of my back, sending a warmth from the pit of my belly. “Let’s christen our new home.”

  “Sounds wonderful, but I’d like to put the rest of our books away in the library and take a long, hot bath first.”

  “How about a bath together?”

  The books remained abandoned that night. We found ourselves lost in one another, dripping wet from a shared bath, burning for each other as we crawled into bed.

  When I fell asleep in Tanner’s arms, I felt pure joy rushing through my veins, and I smiled. I fell asleep smiling. Because I was happy.

  I was happy.

  Epilogue

  “I’d love to finish this house before Christmas of this year.”

  Tanner laughed at my grumblings from where he stood on the ladder perched against the house. My muttered complaints filled the dewy morning air as they had for some time.

  “I thought we were shooting for Thanksgiving.”

  I frowned at him, planting my hands on my hips. “There’s no way we’ll be finished in time for Thanksgiving. What were we thinking, inviting everyone over? Better save that Butterball for Christmas.”

  When Tanner first mentioned fixing up our inherited house ourselves, I was beyond excited. I imagined it as a bonding experience of sorts, but I didn’t realize just how damn hard it was to completely renovate an old home. Baking, cake decorating, and gardening were my specialties, certainly not carpentry, plumbing, and painting.

  Although, I did have to admit Tanner was beyond handsome in his paint-splattered, snug jeans.

  “You gonna stand there and stare at me all day or help me scrape the paint off this old house?” Tanner asked.

  Snapping out of whatever spell he held me under, I grumbled under my breath once more. I grabbed the scraper from the ground and began scraping it against the peeling surface of the house, peppering
the cold, dead grass with curls of white paint.

  “Thanksgiving. We’ll be finished by Thanksgiving,” Tanner assured me, grinning down at my doubtful scowl. “And it’s gonna be the best one ever.”

  *

  November was filled with nothing but days of serving customers at the local diner and evenings filled with stripping, sanding, and staining wood floors, painting walls, and replacing broken everything. Our funds were pretty much non-existent. Graham and Melissa were more than happy to offer us money, even asking Tanner to consider using his inheritance for a while, but we politely declined.

  Tanner received a stern, side-eyed stare from me the few times he’d casually mentioned making money in other ways, the same ways he’d made money working for his uncle. I’d worked too hard to leave the past behind to have it brought forth into our new life, the one we were now living together.

  I could tell Tanner missed the lifestyle we’d once lived. I could tell it in the way he used his hands. They were always busy, anxious to do something, anything, other than being idle. Busying what little free time he had was his way of coping with the things we lacked in life. And what little things they were: the drugs, the drama, the excitement of sneaking around and hiding secrets from others.

  As different of a life we were now leading, it was still thrilling in an entirely new sort of way. Each day brought forth a new milestone, a new responsibility. We both had steady jobs—me waitressing while Tanner worked at the Toyota manufacturing plant and went to school—in a strange, new town where we only knew two other people: Shelby and Chance.

  Our doorbell rang, and turkey-embellished socks moved across a newly polished hardwood floor as I eased into the foyer. Shelby’s beaming face came into view as I opened the door, highlighted with a backsplash of falling leaves drifting from the swooping, mostly barren branches of the trees behind her.

  “I come bearing gifts!” She bustled through the doorway with her arms loaded down with containers of food. “There’s more in the car,” she called over one shoulder.

  “Nice to see you too, Shelby,” I grumbled with a sigh, slipping my feet into a pair of sneakers resting near the door.

  Brodie greeted me in the drive, brandishing a huge grin and a covered casserole dish. Those broad shoulders of his were somewhat broader, straining against his simple blue sweater.

  “Y’all did a damn fine job on the house.” He shut the door to his truck using his bent elbow.

  “We’re still not finished,” I replied. “We saved the library for last because I want to maintain that room in the exact same way we found it. The furniture is surprisingly in mint condition. As bad as the house looked on the outside, the inside was pretty well maintained.”

  “Someone took care of it? At least a little, huh?”

  “Yeah.” My grandmother’s face flashed through my mind as we trekked across the dense grass. “Someone took care of this house, and I think it’s time to find out who. I hope Nana offers some clues tonight. Maybe I’ll spike her drink with something strong.”

  Brodie chuckled, those white teeth peeking out from behind a wide grin.

  Tanner did a piss-poor job of pretending he hadn’t been waiting on Brodie to arrive all day long. The two boys disappeared from the kitchen as Tanner offered to show him around the newly furnished house. He specifically wanted to show him the parlor, also known as Tanner’s “man cave.”

  “How are things?” Shelby asked.

  I gave a shrug then pulled an onion from a bag and set to work chopping it into tiny pieces. “You know, work. Working at our jobs, working on the house. It’s overwhelming sometimes, but we’re managing.”

  We chatted and worked side by side until Shelby shooed me away.

  “Go get cleaned up,” she instructed in a no-nonsense sort of way. “I’ll man the kitchen.”

  I took Shelby up on her offer and retreated upstairs to shower. I had just finished flat-ironing my hair when I heard the sound of activity downstairs, the ringing of the doorbell, the murmurs and laughter of visitors.

  Benson and Wes were the first two people I spotted. They were dressed alike in their dark-wash jeans and olive-toned dress shirts. They argued with one another over who was the most handsome. I smiled at the two former FBI detectives, the two men who had abandoned their jobs for us, but mostly for themselves and the memory of their father.

  “I’m gonna have to say Benson is the most handsome of the two of you.” I laughed, allowing him to pull me in for a hug and a light peck on the cheek.

  “That’s only because you know him better than me,” Wes drawled, shooting me a wolfish grin. “Spend a little more time with the younger, sexier brother and I’ll change your mind, girl.”

  “Rue’s free time is spent right where she belongs.” Strong arms pulled me into a possessive embrace, withdrawing me from Benson’s friendly grip. “With me.”

  “Jealous.” I jabbed my boyfriend in the ribs with my elbow.

  “Damn straight,” he said.

  The sound of heels clicking against the shiny, hardwood floors signaled Melissa’s appearance. She squealed, pulling me from Tanner’s arms and into hers. “The house is breathtaking, my dear.”

  She released me from the hug and I sighed. “Except for the library. It’s still a mess.”

  “Rue’s gonna sketch in there, too,” Tanner told his aunt. “The library is full of large windows good for lighting. Rue’s a wonderful artist. I told her she should make a living at it.”

  “Oh, Rue. You should,” she said. “You should pursue art. How romantic.”

  “Romance doesn’t pay the bills,” I muttered below my breath, ignoring Tanner’s hard stare. Tanner had had his major picked out since childhood, but me? I had nothing in mind for my future.

  He wanted me to be happy, to choose something I enjoyed, claiming his own father always explained he should make money doing something he loved. To which I’d replied, “So your father loved selling drugs? That was his life goal?”

  That statement had earned me a night on the couch, a place I had silently deemed for Tanner once we reached the first heated disagreement with one another. Who knew I’d be the one to grace that couch’s presence first?

  Though, it didn’t completely count seeing how he’d snuck down to take me back to bed sometime in the middle of the night, claiming he just missed me too damn much.

  “You’ll figure it out,” Melissa assured me, smiling. “You have plenty of time. Your entire life to figure things out.”

  “To be young again.”

  It was Graham who spoke those words, and then I spied him sitting in the den sipping brandy. He tipped the glass in my direction, too relaxed, I supposed, to rise to formally greet me. Wes and Benson joined him, the three of them falling into a casual conversation of Ole Miss versus Mississippi State football.

  The muffled bickering of two very familiar voices had us turning our heads back to the front door.

  “I told you it was the last house on the damn street,” Josie grumbled, letting herself and Bryce into the house.

  I hadn’t seen Josie in a while, but she still looked the same with her long, cornsilk hair and trademark scowl. I sighed when I noticed the box in her arms. It was just like Josie to bring a damn decorated cake to a party. Why make anything else when you had all of Nana’s ingredients and supplies at hand, and for free?

  *

  “You seem different, Rue.”

  Nana cleared away the dinnerware on the table, having arrived just as we were all leaned back in our chairs, miserable after the meal we’d consumed. The clattering of tiny china plates had alerted us to her presence as she entered the room, cake stand in one hand and plates in the other. We’d stared at her dumbly, not having heard the doorbell ring or any other sign that she’d shown up.

  The boys retreated to the man cave, and the girls were chatting in the den. Nana and I were all alone after Nana turned down the multiple offers of assistance. It was suddenly apparent why she’d been so adamant
about cleaning the dining room alone with me.

  “Different how?”

  “I don’t know, just different.” She shrugged, pulling open the door to the dishwasher.

  I gnawed on my lip for a moment before heaving a sigh then confessing something that no one, besides Tanner, was aware of.

  “I’ve been seeing a therapist.”

  “I take a little white pill for my nerves sometimes,” she admitted, stocking the bottom rack with plates and other dishes. “We’ve had hard lives, the whole lot of us, Monroes and Montgomerys alike. You can only be so strong for so long. Don’t be ashamed to ask for help. Don’t let your pride get in the way of yourself.”

  I pondered her words, washing and drying my hands after the dishes were cleared away, the leftovers placed in their appropriate containers. There was a blush of embarrassment on her cheeks, possibly from what she’d just admitted. Little did she know she’d just given me the opportunity I’d been waiting for.

  “So if I needed your help, you’d give it?”

  Pencil-thin eyebrows rose with my question. Nana hesitantly nodded, wiping her hands on the pants of her ridiculously out-of-fashion purple windsuit.

  “I want you to tell me about the house,” I told her in a slow voice. “The mystery is driving me crazy.”

  Nana stood there for a moment then eventually nodded, gesturing for me to follow her. I trailed her up the winding staircase, praying for patience as she struggled with her bad knees and the climb. The anticipation was killing me, the confusion overwhelming, especially when she led to me the library.

  Nana padded over to the desk perched near a window. The dark mahogany gleamed with the wood cleaner I’d used just that morning. I stood by Nana’s side, shaking my head as she curled a finger around the brass knob on a drawer once she was sitting in the squeaky leather chair in front of the desk.

  “It’s a dummy drawer,” I said, remembering the frustration of trying to figure out how to open it and Tanner’s laughing face. “It’s just there for looks, no function whatsoever.”