Page 71 of Shake the Spirit

I take a second to try to piece shit together in my head. Nodding, I get it. “By another club, you mean from Charleston?”

“Yes, most likely. Or it’s possible McGraw might want Rawkfist to swoop in and save his ass.”

“How would that even work?”

“McGraw could retire and let one of you boys take over his club.”

“Does Rawkfist want another chapter?”

“No,” Jared says and chuckles. “That’s why Court is in a pickle. He isn’t looking to play partners with Duke McGraw. He might just end up pushing the problem down the road until it’s West’s issue to fix. Either way, Rawkfist will one day face a different power landscape.”

Jared strokes his mustache and adds, “Those kinds of problems are why I never wanted to run things. I’ve outlived the men I founded the club with, mainly because I don’t let shit drag me down.”

Nodding, I admit, “Your way makes sense.”

“You’ve always rolled at my speed. That’s why I can sit with you like this in a way I can’t with your cousins. Even Otto is always fidgeting when we’re quiet for too long. I remember how Felix would try to intimidate me during silent moments. They can’t help amping up everything. But that’s not you.”

“I’ve never really tried to be anyone else. For Oana, I want to be my best. I’m just not sure what that means.”

Jared gives me a wistful grin. “When I met Christine, she was a wild young thing. With our age difference, I knew I should leave her alone, but I couldn’t get my mind off her. Once we hooked up, there was no turning back. At least, that’s what I thought.”

I recall how my grandparents were divorced for over fifteen years. Christine left Tumbling Rock, studied to be a veterinarian, married a doofus, and had Poppy before returning to town.

During all those years apart, Jared and Christine barely spoke. She apparently avoided him after returning to town. Based on the way my mom tells the story, her parents couldn’t share a room without wanting to share more than that. Eventually, the dam broke between them, and they rekindled their relationship. They haven’t been apart since.

Jared’s likely thinking about the same thing because he continues, “Christine was a young woman with dreams. She told me stuff she wanted to accomplish like being a vet and running her own business. I thought she was just talking or thinking about the future after the girls were older. But I wasn’t listening. By then, I’d figured out my purpose in life. I had this place and the club. But Christine needed more. I didn’t listen, and she couldn’t make me hear her.”

“Why not?”

“She loved me, just like Oana loves you. Women sometimes think the harsh truth will cut up a man, so they talk around stuff and hope we’ll pick up on their clues.”

“Do you think Oana isn’t being honest with me?”

“I think she’s learned to hide herself. Those Trinity Church folks have been the same way for as long as I’ve been alive. She might be tapping into her wild side right now. But in a pickle, she could revert to the submissive-chick crap they taught her all her life. So, you need to listen to her clues, not just the words she says. Don’t end up wasting years on misunderstandings and hurt feelings.”

Studying my grandpa, I thank my lucky stars I grew up around men like him. “You’ve never steered me wrong, so I’ll be extra attentive to Oana.”

Jared nods and taps his glass. “Her people aren’t the fun kind of churchy types. They’re bound to give her shit for the rest of her life.”

“What other choice do we have?”

“Moving out of town isn’t an option, and killing all of them seems too messy. I guess she’ll need to form thick skin like Christine did with her idiot parents.”

We chuckle at the thought before falling into the comfortable silence we often share. The shop has been abnormally quiet for the last few months. We’re losing business to one of those national oil change outlets.

King Peepaw never seems worried. The auto shop doesn’t need much income to stay in business on its own. We also funnel a decent chunk of cash from the club’s illegal dealings through here.

Our current silence is broken by the arrival of several SUVs out front. I stand up and walk to the window to find they belong to the Clinton County Sheriff’s Department.

“Pigs just rolled up,” I say, but Jared doesn’t stop rocking in his office chair. “Three of them.”

“Might be here to look busy. Text your pa just in case.”

Doing as he says, I let my pa, uncles, and cousins know about the pigs. I’ve finished sending the message when the shop’s door opens, and the three deputies enter.

I don’t say anything. Neither does Jared. We just stare at them staring at us.

These deputies share a bloodline with my pa. Maybe that’s why they look so uncomfortable.

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