Page 71 of Trailer Trash

Beasley was sitting on the sofa with a beer can in his hand, watching a game show on the TV. He looked a lot like he did the last time I saw him, only he was wearing jeans and a Harley-Davidson T-shirt instead of prison orange. His dishwater-blond hair had grown out enough to graze his ears, and he was trying to grow a mustache over his lip. He stood when we entered the room—rising to his full 5’8” stature—and he looked nervous when he noticed Jed.

“Neely Kate,” he said, his gazed shifting back and forth between us. “I’m surprised to see you.”

“I was back in town and thought maybe we could chat.”

His aunt stood in the doorway of the living room and kitchen, watching me with interest. “You used to be Branson’s girlfriend.”

Hearing people call me that was like fingernails on a chalkboard, but this wasn’t the time or place to make a fuss. “That’s right.”

“I ain’t seen hide nor hair of that boy since Beasley crashed Branson’s car in his drunken stupor. You heard from him?”

“No, ma’am.”

She shook her head and tsked. “Must have gotten up to no good.”

I figured it would be best if I didn’t say anything.

Beasley gestured toward the back of the house with his thumb. “Why don’t we go into the backyard and talk?”

“Good idea,” I said, following him past his aunt. We walked through a kitchen straight out of the 1950s and into a backyard that looked like a garden park. Beasley was already halfway across the yard to a small fire pit area.

Jed was practically on my heels as I followed. I sat in a chair directly across from Beasley, and Jed sat beside me.

Beasley nervously eyed Jed, but I was staring right back. Now that I had a better look at him, I realized Beasleydidlook different. Harder. More confident. After all the berating he’d tolerated from his brother, that was a good thing, so why did it make me nervous?

“Who’s your friend, Neely Kate?”

“This is my boyfriend, Jed.”

“Boyfriend. You always did go for the mean ones.”

I supposed I could see why he’d think that about Jed, who was looking downright intimidating. I wondered if there was any truth to what Beasley said about the men in my past, but Ronnie wasn’t mean. In fact, he reminded me a lot of Beasley . . . a little quiet, shy, and hated violence. Or so he’d said. Maybe that had something to do with why I’d picked Ronnie. Maybe I’d been trying to choose Beasley the second time around.

He turned to look at Jed. “Are you here to beat me up?”

None of Beasley’s usual fear was present, and that set me on edge. Maybe I wasn’t as safe with him as I had once thought.

“That’s Neely Kate’s call,” Jed said in a no-nonsense tone.

“No,” I said. “No one’s beating anyone up.”

Beasley didn’t seem convinced, and the expression on Jed’s face didn’t look any friendlier. Maybe bringing Jed was a mistake. Only, something still felt . . .offabout Beasley.

“You got out,” I said, stating the obvious.

“Yep,” he said, finishing off his beer. He crushed the can with his hand and tossed it to the ground.Thatwasn’t a Beasley move. He’d definitely changed, but what had I expected? He’d been in prison nearly five years. Because of me.

“How long have you been out?”

“A few months.” He leaned back in his chair, trying to look nonchalant, but the beads of perspiration lining his top lip and his forehead gave him away. Granted, it was hot, but that didn’t explain why his hands were shaking on the metal arms of his chair.

“You stopped taking my calls,” I said. “Why?”

“What good did they do?” he asked. “It wasn’t like you were gonna pick me when I got out.”

“We could still be friends. What you did for me . . . That made us friends.”

“He said you’d try to play it like that.”

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