Page 184 of Five Mountain Daddies

So instead of doing what my whole body craves, I get dressed and head out in my crappyrental.

Reggie lives in one of many trailer parks. This one’s tucked into a neighborhood with a stream on one side and the 309 Bypass on the other. It’s probably noisy as hell, but most folks don’t always get to choose where they live, and as far as parks go, this one’s not halfbad.

Although I’m surprised Reggie ended up here. He was always a good student and a nice kid, always seemed like the type to get out of Mason and escape these endlesstrailers.

I park my car near a small trailer at the end of a little street. It’s in decent shape, and although small, it looks pretty sturdy. I’ve seen much worse, and clearly Reggie keeps his place nice, which is respectable. I feel bad, judging him for living in a trailer. A lot of good folks live in trailers, and I can already tell that my time living in the city has shifted my perspective and maybe made me morejudgmental.

As I climb out of the car, I make a mental note not to let my prejudices get in the way. I have to remember that I came from this town, too. There’s nothing wrong with living in a trailer, and there’s a lot wrong with judging people like anasshole.

I head up to the door and knock. Reggie answers a minute later, grinning that old grin I remember, though he’s definitely grownup.

“Reggie,” I say as he opens the door. “How are you,man?”

“I’m great!” He ignores my handshake and wraps me in a huge hug, lifting me up off the ground. I’m a big man, muscular and heavy, and Reggie’s at least my size, if not a little taller. He used to be shorter and pudgier, but clearly the kid hit a growth spurt later in life, because he’s enormousnow.

He lets me go and I laugh. “Holy shit, look atyou.”

He grins and shrugs. “Guess you haven’t seen me in a while.” He flexes a little bit, “Not the nerd you remember,huh?”

“Not at all.” He’s dressed in jeans and a tight shirt. He steps out onto the porch, shutting the door behindhim.

“You ready?” heasks.

“Let’sroll.”

We go over to my car and climb inside. Reggie leans back, a smile on hisface.

“Look at you, Wyatt Reap, comehome.”

“Came here for Atticus,” I say tohim.

Reggie nods. “Shame aboutthat.”

I’m surprised to note that he does actually seem unhappy. “I thought you hatedAtticus?”

He shrugs. “We made up after school. You know high school ends,right?”

I laugh softly. “I guess so.” We head out and I can’t help but feel a little surprised. Reggie really hated Atticus back then, and Atticus didn’t exactly hold back in his incessant mockery of him. It didn’t seem like the kind of relationship that can berepaired.

Then again, Reggie’s enormous now, so I guess anything’spossible.

We head back toward the Great American. It’s a ten-minute drive, more or less a straight shot, and we chat for the first few minutes, just catchingup.

Suddenly Reggie leans forward. “Shit, man!” he says. “Can we pull offhere?”

“What?” I askhim.

“Right there, turn right,” he says, pointingahead.

Although it’s not the way toward the Great American, I follow his directions. “Where are we going?” I askhim.

“I just need to pick something up. It’s not a big deal, it’ll just take asecond.”

“What do you need to get?” I have a weird feeling as we pull down a side street. There are trees on either side of the car, and I vaguely recognize the place as one far end of the naturepreserve.

“It’s just ahead,” he says. The car bumps over some stones and the pavement turns intogravel.

“What could you possibly need here?” I askhim.

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