Hanging on (Jessica Brodie Diaries #2) (43 page)

“Yeah, but… I don’t know. I always thought he was just placating you.”

“You probably thought that so you could continue to see him for the bad, and not have to face a guy capable of awful that makes such an effort to be good. Possibly so you can continue hating your father?”

That was a wild stab in the dark.

“Don’t try to Dr. George me, Jessica.”

I shrugged. Dr. George had only been necessary since I got to Texas. Two rape attempts, one with a gun, both with violent endings, and I needed someone to talk to.

Lump was now seeing him, too, to work through her issues.

“He’s really nice to you,” Lump went on. “Always helping you, or helping Willie or one of the other guys. He treats you like family.”

“Yeah, he treats me like his sister. He thinks of William like a brother so he’s brought me into the fold. Did so before William and I were actually together—I think it was the Dusty thing. I don’t think he’s forgiven himself for not being there. Moose or William, either, but William is allowed to baby me and Moose knows I really only need help for the big stuff.”

“They do all fawn over you.”

“Dusty thing. They fawn over Candace, too, but it’s hard to see because she is always hard glued to Ty. Maybe the long-term gals get more attention. Like a pack of dogs. Except for you, because you are more like a dude than a chick.”

“Do you listen to yourself half the time? I think you just talk with no idea what comes out of your mouth.”

“I listen half the time! What, you want me to
always
know what I’m saying? That is way too much effort!”

Lump huffed and got back to nailing, saying, “Do you think I should apologize for thinking the way I have?”

“Nah. I think you should just stop being a jerk. He’ll probably be glad not to have to wear kid gloves around you.”

“Ass.”

“You asked.”

I was busy shopping for Christmas presents for everyone in the weeks to come. Gladis was being generous and not making me pay rent for November and December so I could buy presents. I protested but got the stern look, so I said thank you meekly.

I got her a weird porcelain figurine for her giant collection. Lady told me which one she wanted. They were pricy little buggers. I didn’t understand the appeal, but they apparently only went up in value the older they got, so I guess they were a good, if unattractive, investment.

Lady got a VISA gift card that was to be used for a night out. I didn’t know what else to get her.

Lump got a punching bag and a gift card to her favorite make-up place. I had to throw something girlie in there, for God sake.

Adam had been complaining that he needed a new pair of cowboy boots, but the ones he had fit like a glove, so he hated to get rid of them. I, therefore, got him a custom made pair from the best leather worker in the state, which happened to be just outside the city. They were more a thank you for the car, but disguised as a Christmas gift they would be harder to reject because of the expense.

Christmas this year would be spent at the Davies ranch, which was apparently a tradition. Gladis and Lady were invited, Lady declining because she would be with family—also, I think, because she felt uncomfortable as a guest. Lump was also invited, and accepted because she didn’t want to go home to her family that year. She said she needed to sort out her head first.

I wanted to be with William, and my family rarely did much anyway because they were jerks, so I would be there. Adam would also be going, as was tradition, but his girlfriend, whom was still very much in the picture despite William’s protests Adam wasn’t that into her, had a huge fight with him because of it. She said the tradition was with
her
family, and since the Davies weren’t even his family, he should go with her.

Telling Adam that the Davies weren’t his family got her a decline
and
an un-invitation. Everyone who even barely knew Adam knew that he was loyal to a fault, and the Davies had done so much for him that he thought of them as blood. William, being the same way, treated Adam like a brother, and was sad to hear Adam’s girlfriend was so near-sighted.

William told
me
that, not Adam.

All that was left was the damn bull. William’s heart’s desire.

The farmer needed to sell the thing, because he needed new equipment. He just didn’t want to sell to William. William really wanted it, and hated not getting what he wanted, so he promised favors to other farmers so the only person that the old man could
sell it to was him.

It was just a matter of time. Or so William thought!
Ha!

The only problem was that William had a bunch of cash to throw around. He offered the bull owner a ton of money just to secure the dumb thing. I didn’t have a ton of money. I had to buy a new car, I had to pay off debt, and while I made decent money now, I wasn’t made of greenbacks.

Luckily I had boobs. Unluckily I'd have to show them.

The day came to buy the bull. Adam had called and told me it was now or never. He would be available all weekend with a trailer to pick it up if I got it.

“Oh, I’m
so
going to get it!” I said to myself. A pep talk was key.

It was a chilly Saturday in early December when I dressed like a huge slut, with a disgracefully low-cut, fake silk blouse and a thin bra. Hard nipples would be showing. I was not proud, but I was determined.

I had a short, tight skirt with stockings. It was a lot trashy, but apparently that’s what this guy liked, judging by his two ex-wives. I knew this because Moose was a fountain of information in all things gossip.

Lump had a hideous cotton shirt that was mostly see-through. The shirt was white, her push up bra was black.
Hot.
She had some crazy tight jeans on. We looked the part, all right.

I had four grand cash in my purse, and checkbook ready if it wasn’t enough. I really, really hoped it would be enough.

We arrived at the shabby, broken down ranch about mid-day. We walked carefully and stupidly in our too-high, ugly plastic heels. Before we got to the door I grabbed the camera from my purse and snapped a couple pictures of Lump. They’d be good blackmail pictures.

Once on the creaking porch I called Adam.

“Jess?”

“Yeah,” I whispered. “We’re about to knock.”

“Okay, keep the phone on, put it in your purse, and if there is any trouble, yell.”

“Kay, but we’ll be fine Adam. Listen in. If I get in a bind, I’ll go to the bathroom and ask advice.”

“No problem. And Jess?”

“Yeah?”

“You are a good woman for doing this for Willie, you know?”

“Thanks Adam, but it isn’t done yet. Talk soon.”

“And Jess…”

“Yes, Adam?”

“Let Betz handle…anything. Okay? Let her…handle it. Until I get there.”

I smiled briefly. “Always do.”

I put the phone in my purse as Lump knocked.

The door was answered by a gruff, white haired man in his 60’s or more. He was wrinkled and weathered, stooping over as he looked through the screen door at us.

“Who is it?” he asked in a scratchy voice badly damaged from years of smoking.

“Mr. Wyatt Pickitt?” Lump asked with a slight country twinge to her voice.

“Yeah? Who’s askin’?”

“Oh, hell-o Mr. Pickitt. I am here to ask about your little ‘ol bull for sale?”

He leaned closer to the screen door to get a better look at his prospective customers. It was then he noticed what we looked like. Or, more appropriately, what we were wearing.

“Well, ladies. Now. Y’all c’mon in here a minute. Don’t y’all look...purty.”

This was going to be a long afternoon.

He opened the screen door leering like the old creep he was. We sauntered in like prostitutes, getting our first look around.

The place smelt like feet and mold. Paint chipped off the walls, crap was piled everywhere, and there were more dirty coffee cups than I had ever seen in one place in my life, café’s and truck stops included.

He led us into a dilapidated living room where all the furniture was mismatched and, we soon found out, uncomfortable. I was sitting on a hard spring that I swear was leaving a bruise.

“Wud you girls like coffee?” he asked with teeth as mismatched as his furniture.

“Oh, no thank ya,” Lump replied with a cheesy, seductive smile. She was chosen to be the front runner in case this old fart tried anything, or in case he had sons around that we didn’t account for.

It was a little nippy in the room, as I expected, and I could tell my nipples were now making an appearance. It wasn’t long before they became the center attraction of the conversation. I bent over a little to show cleavage and distract him further. I wanted this sell. Pride had to take a back seat on this one. Sorry women’s lib. I’ll make it up another time.

“Which bull y’all interested in?” he asked, staring unceremoniously at my breasts.

“That little ‘ol one you have in the paper? I saw it in the Piggly Wiggly. We need us a bull, and someone told me to get one young, so here we are.”

“Who’s it for?” He looked at Lump closely, probably trying to see if figure out if she was a spy for Davies.

“Why, me and Phyllis, here.” That was my name for the day.

“You gotta ranch?” he asked incredulously.

“It was left to us by an uncle. He was always a bad man to us...” Lump and I exchanged a look that said we would rather not talk about how he was a bad man, but it was dirty.

I would hate myself tomorrow.

“But he left us a small ranch with four girl cows,” Lump continued. “We were told we need a boy cow. So, here we are.” She beamed at him, as did I.

The old geezer blinked at us, then looked at my boobs. “Well, that sounds about right. You need a bull for those heifers. Bull I got is, meaner’n spit, he is. Little fellow--he’ll get bigger, he’s just young is all, but a bad temper on him.”

“Will he bite my cows?” I asked in a breath whisper, putting my hand delicately to my chest.

Old Wyatt smiled slowly, showing his yellowed teeth and a glint in his eye I quickly wanted to forget.

I would
definitely
hate myself tomorrow.

“Nah, he won’t bite yourn cows, none. But it’ll take a coupla years a’fore he’s ready to pluck those heifers. He’ll be as happy as a tick on a hound dog once he gets at’em.”

“Oh, you won’t sell him for a coupla years?” Lump asked dejectedly.

“You got it wrong, Ma’am. I’m ready to sell today.”

We brightened.

“What are you wantin’ for him?” Lump asked.

“Got’n offer fer five grand.”

My face fell.
Fuck.
Adam had been right. Damn William and his bank roll.

Lump turned to me with a pout. I nodded slowly to her, allowing tears to come to my eyes. I hammed it up like I was on Broadway.

“I’m so sorry Mr. Pickitt,” Lump said, turning to a mildly distraught man—men hated to see women cry, after all. “My sister is emotional. We haven’t had
any
luck with finding us a boy cow—bull, did you say?—and we don’t know what we’re doin’.”

“If it wasn’t for that David, or Dave, or Davies man, whoever he is, we would have one by now!” I whimpered.

“Davies?” The old man asked.

Lump put a hand on my knee, exposing her stomach as she did so. “Yes. Some man named Mr. Davies seems to buy up all the bulls in the area. We have to get one local and can’t—he has more money than us. Phyllis takes it personally, is all. He wasn’t kind to her.”

“I don’t like that Davies, either!” Wyatt spat. “Him and his big money ranch. Chase’n away all the decent folk with his projects and undercutting. Got no use for him. He’s the one offer’n for this one.”

I let out a squeak of misery. Lump patted my knee and shook her head. “It’s okay, Mr. Pickitt. We understand. You are a businessman, you need to take the higher price. We’ll make do,
some
how.”

Lump stood up and turned toward me, leaning down to show off her butt. “C’mon Phyllis, let’s leave kind Mr. Pickitt to his day.”

“Well, now, wait jist a minute.” Wyatt would have gotten up, but was old. Plus, he was distracted with Lump’s butt.

Lump turned back to him with a questioning, yet still dejected, face. I shook my head and blew into my hanky.

“I would rather sell to a coupla God fearing women like yerselves than that Davies devil any day. What can ye offer?”

And the negotiations began. I was an expert negotiator. Expert! You have to get good to get deals in Tijuana, Mexico, after all.

That Wyatt was no fool, either, though. He talked a great game, had me running for my money a couple times. Thank goodness for tits and ass. A straight man’s downfall.

Finally, we nearly agreed on $3500 cash, but Lump was still acting worried that we might go broke. We decided that she should look at the bull to make sure he was as good as the ad said.

I could tell Wyatt knew it was in the bank. We wouldn’t know what we were looking at, and he would talk circles around us until we agreed. What’s more, the transaction would all be under the table, something William wasn’t offering.

Sure enough, we stood in cow poop in a dirty, unorganized, crap shoot of a ranch looking at a little bull. Wyatt pointed out this and that, and we let our confusion show. I genuinely shrugged at Lump, and she agreed on the price.

I told him I had a cousin in town that could drive the trailer so we could pick him up today. Lump would stay here and wait. Once we had the bull he could have the cash.

We had to protect ourselves, after all. We were just women and it was cash. Add a couple dumb-blond blinks and Wyatt was nodding.

Instead of Adam, we got a ranch hand acting lazy, since Adam was sure to be recognized. The bad news was, Lump and I, who legitimately didn’t have a clue as to what we were doing, had to maneuver the mean little sucker into a trailer. In high heels and tight clothes.