Lance’s eyes opened wide.
“Second, if I’m seen coming and going here on a somewhat regular basis, people might start to wonder. I guess I could act like I’m coming in for a drink or two, but I can’t promise to do this long-term if you’re going to bring on the heat, or the people wise up on me driving out here.”
“Wow, I didn’t know any of that,” Lance said softly.
“You could say, I’ve had a lifetime’s worth of education,” I told him.
“I’ll bet. Wow, I should have a guy like you working here instead of my manager…”
“No, I can’t,” I told him, “I’ve got a lot of personal stuff going on, and I’m waiting on a call back for a job I interviewed for.”
“Pays better than running shine?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” I told him truthfully. “What I’ve done before was mostly on a hobby scale. What you’re asking for weekly kind of moves me beyond that and I can do it, but only just.”
“What if I just sold it strictly as shine? There are boutique distilleries all over the country now.”
“You could get away with that easier than using it to water down your stuff, or use it as part of your good drinks. Your house liquor, unless somebody wants brand name stuff. Make it part of your countrified authenticness or something.”
“I… that’s kind of brilliant. Were you serious about the rum by the way?”
“Yeah, I’ll be able to bring thirty-two gallons of sour mash whiskey, and I’ve got eight gallons of my private stuff set aside in small casks.”
“Your private stuff? You mean for high-end sales?”
“No, it’s just that… You wanted forty gallons, and that’s the only way I can make up the difference. You’ll like the rum, it’s my personal favorite. Might have been nine gallons, except I drank a little bit of it in the last month or so and used a couple quarts to pay off some folk.”
“I’ll take it,” he told me. “Any chance you can deliver everything about this time come Friday? That’ll give me time to split it up by the time the weekend crush gets here.”
“Sure thing. You have any trouble with the law around here?”
“Naw, not unless some drunks start punching each other out. I got guys who come in at four and stay until closing, who are big bruisers. They turn them over to the cops, but you don’t got to worry about the rest of the stuff. The locals here I mean.”
“How so?” I asked.
“My brother is second in command. The chief comes in and drinks here on his off days, and just last night he said whoever is making the white dog in the jar… he’d like to thank him.”
I laughed, feeling relieved. “We’ve got friendly locals where I stay at too.”
“Didn’t you grow up on that old farm just outside of town?”
“I did,” I told him. “Stay there still to help my grandparents out.”
“How are they doing?” he asked, real concern in his voice.
“Grandma’s getting along, but grandpa isn’t doing so well. That’s why I wanted to make sure substituting the rum was going to be fine.”
“Oh hell yeah, if you’re making rum also, I want some of that too.”
“I’m not sure I can up production more than I’ll be at, but I can mix in some rum from time to time if that works for you?” I asked him.
“Sounds good. Do I keep paying Les or—”
“Naw, give it to me, and I’ll give him his part.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have cash waiting for you.”
We shook on it, and I waved to the waitress getting chairs down. She gave me a grin as I headed out of there feeling a lot better than I had been. It seemed that the one hangup was the bottles watered down with corn liquor, but he hadn’t realized how that could have consequences. It was one thing to have the locals looking the other way, it was another to have the ATF and other federal agencies looking at you. I didn’t want to do no time for somebody else's stupidity, and it looked to me like Lance went straight to the bottles on his shelves. Hopefully, he was packing up or dumping the ones he’d doctored.
Raider jumped out as soon as I opened the door and, when I called for him to sit and stay, he got down on his back haunch, his butt wiggling in anticipation. I saw why when I slammed my door. Mrs. Guthrie was standing on the other side, knelt down so Raider could see her behind the glass. She saw me and waved. I walked over and told Raider to stand, and he did so I could open the door.
“I’ve got your deliveries,” she told me. “It’s on a pallet out the side door near where you parked. Let me show you.”
I walked behind her counter to the back. Big heaping bags of cornmeal, sugar, and an on top a bag of yeast were waiting for me.
“They actually had the Red Star Dry Active Distillers Yeast. Apparently, people use it to sprinkle on their food as a source of B12 or something. I was surprised.”
“Yeah, it’s not as uncommon as you’d think,” I told her, pulling her close for a hug.
“Oh, you lovable ruffian. My husband sees you hugging me like this—”
“I’ll give him some loving back,” he said, walking around the corner.
I put my hand out, and we shook. “Got any more of that uh…?”
“Curt Guthrie!”
“I can get you some, I’ve just got a jar of my regular stuff with me,” I told him.
He waggled his eyebrows, and his wife made a swiping gesture at him as if to slap his chest. He danced out of her reach and stuck his tongue out. I laughed, they were older than me, probably like my mom's age, but a lot younger than my grandpa.
“I’ll give you a hand loading up,” Curt said. “Margie here will hold the door.”
“Sounds good to me,” I told them, and Raider barked excitedly, turning in a circle.
“Good, good.”
We loaded the supplies, the back end of my truck noticeably heavy even though we distributed the weight over the rear axle. I fished under my seat in my secret spot and pulled out a quart of shine and gave it to him.
“She pretends she doesn’t like me drinking, but she didn’t happen to mention she’s the reason I ran out early, did she?”
“What?” I asked, surprised.
“That woman… she can make food from about anything, but she likes herself a mean cocktail later on at night, don’t let her fool ya.”
“Hey, somebody who never drinks doesn’t know what they’re missing,”
“What do I owe you?” Curt asked, looking at the clear liquid.
“Eh, just save me the jars,” I told him.
“I can do that. Your next order, I can drop off to Margie the ones we’ve gone through and washed out. We don’t can with glass, so it’s kind of building up.”
I grinned and shook with him again.
“That’d be great, I have to run, I’ll see you.”
“Take it easy.”
I got in, and Raider jumped up on my lap then headed to his spot. I closed my door and waved before turning on my truck and started heading out. If I been almost broke before, I was near flat broke now. I had enough for a couple tanks of gas, but I’d run through all the money I’d set aside and had made the previous week.
7
The first two deliveries went as planned, and I figured out how to manage the time running two stills and boiling water to mash grains. As I’d empty one barrel out, I’d clean it as I’d go, washing it out and rinsing it with bleach water, then clean water. I’d roll it out into the sunlight. I worked like a fool those last two weeks, and I got ahead enough that I could afford to take a couple days off and not run full production.
“I told you, I don’t need you holding my hand none. You need to call that school back,” Grandpa said, cranky as ever as his ass hung out the back of his hospital gown.
“I will. I talked to them once, all I have to do is to fill out paperwork, do my state background check. I’m doing that first thing next week, and then the state police will fax the results, and I should be good to g
o,” I told him.
We’d done it. With this week’s delivery, we would have this portion of the surgery covered and a little extra to buy supplies to keep things running. Last week, they’d done a biopsy with a long needle. I wasn’t there for that, but they’d confirmed it was cancer, and the scans suggested he was probably in stage three, but more likely stage four. Non-Hodgkins Lymphoma; a name so scary I had to look it up. If we were lucky, getting the largest masses out, coupled with a few rounds of chemo and some targeted radiation, Grandpa would make a good recovery.
With the deductibles paid for now and money to keep paying, I could afford to do this the rest of the summer, and he should be good to go when I took the teaching job come fall. They said he’d be worse at first, then he’d slowly build back up in strength. I was cautiously optimistic. I had to be.
I got cursed out six ways to Sunday when Grandpa saw the cornmeal, warning me about scorching the insides of my still, but for what I’d paid for it and how many blue barrels we had, I could afford the time to let everything settle down to the bottom.
Alternating what I used wouldn’t really change the flavor profile of the shine, but it’d also rotate the supplies I was buying and not make as many people curious. I was going through massive amounts of corn and cornmeal lately. The sugar fermented out, but the spent grains had to go somewhere. I’d been serious about getting a pig or two and using old fencing panels Grandpa had garbage picked, and I’d made a small pen on the side of the barn near the tractor. Plus, corn and cornmeal fit into my food storage and prepping and gave me an excuse to store a couple extra things here and there. I’d filled every bucket I’d gotten and still had bags sitting on the pallets, wrapped in trash bags to keep the smell away from any potential rodents.
“Good. No make sure you have my flask ready for when I get out,” Grandpa told me, pointing at my shirt pocket.
“Oh you leave him alone,” Grandma chided him. “Raider seemed upset to be left at home, and he’s gotta be worried sick.”
“He should be more worried about getting a girlfriend, giving us great grandbabies,” Grandpa said.
“Yeah, well, I’m gay,” I told him suddenly.
Grandpa sat up, his gown falling open again. His mouth opened and closed and he pointed, then looked at me with his head cocked to the side.
“Huh, well, I guess that’s ok.”
“I was kidding, Grandpa,” I reassured him. “I just don’t have time for girls right now.
“What about the dog park girl you go see on Fridays?” Grandma asked. “I’ve seen her around town, she seems nice, and you always seem so happy after you see her.”
“She’s got a boyfriend, geez. Grandpa’s about to go under the knife, and y’all want to talk about my love life?”
“Nothing more interesting than that.”
“Bud and Lucinda Flagg?” an orderly said, coming into the room.
“Don’t forget, Westley,” Grandma said, pointing to me in the corner.
“Ah, yes, didn’t see you. I’m here to wheel you back. I can take one of you until he falls asleep, then all of the rest of you can wait in the surgical lounge.”
“I’ll see you on the other side, Grandpa,” I said and got up and hugged him. “I’ll be waiting with your flask when you wake up,” I whispered when I was close.
“You better.”
“I’ll meet you in there, Grandma,” I told her.
“Ok, thanks, dear.”
I watched as they wheeled him out, Grandma giving me a wave. Then I headed out and followed the signs until I made it to the waiting room. It was empty except for two people, an older woman and a young lady by the look of the backs of their heads. I didn’t grab a seat right away, I smelled coffee. I’d been sleeping better since the first week of upping production, but I was still running deep in a sleep deficit. I fixed myself a cup and walked over to one of the TVs. It was playing footage of the Northern Lights. I’d forgotten that was this week. I sipped my coffee slowly, it too hot to gulp it like I wanted to. They were interviewing some fool from up north who was warning that it was an X-something big huge solar storm and he had faraday cages.
I didn’t hold much worry that an EMP or a solar flare would knock out power. It was something I was aware of, but every time there was a significant solar storm somebody would get on TV and say the sky was falling, that we all better prepare for our doom. Then nothing would happen of course, just like those Naribu cultists who always seemed to pop up from time to time.
“Westley?” a voice asked.
I turned and saw Jessica and who had to have been her mother, looking over their seats at me. I didn’t get a good look though, I was distracted.
“Jessica,” I said, walking over, “how are you doing?”
“We’re good, waiting on Dad,” she said in a small, quiet voice.
“Surgery?” I asked her, then mentally kicked myself for being stupid.
“Yeah, he’s getting a couple stints put in. They say they caught the problem before he had a heart attack. Your grandpa’s surgery is today?”
I’d told her the last time I’d seen her that he was going in soon to get the tumors removed and then starting on chemo. That way if I had to cancel suddenly I wouldn’t be somebody else who suddenly upped and didn’t keep their appointments with her training schedule. She’d been losing people. I kept going because Raider kept learning and, with time in the barn to work with him, he’d really bonded with me and kept looking for more to do.
“Yeah, he’s getting a lot done, but they say it’ll improve his chances by a lot,” I said, not looking at her.
“Cancer?” Jessica’s mother asked.
“Yeah,” I said softly, “so far, they don’t know if it’s in his bone marrow, but it’s not in his cerebral spinal fluid, which is good. It’s all over the rest of his body, though. His lymph nodes and other spots. What they can’t cut out, they’re going to use radiation and chemo.”
“Don’t let him eat his favorite foods when he’s going through chemo,” she said suddenly.
I looked up, surprised. “Why?”
Jessica laughed, “Because his body is going to associate that food with getting sick if the chemo is strong enough. So if you feed him all his favorites and he starts hating everything…”
“I’ve been waiting twenty years to get him back for making me eat brussel sprouts…” I said quietly, but I was smiling.
“Roasted, they’re good,” Jessica said.
“I’ve never had one I liked,” I told her.
“Then you should let her make you some, some time,” her mom shot back.
“Mother!” Jessica objected.
“What did I say?” she said, throwing her hands in the air. “It’s not like you can keep a boyfriend for more than a week, why not? I remember little Wes Flagg. You had a crush on him, and when he moved out of town you were upset for almost six months—”
“I’m not putting up with this,” Jessica said, getting up, irritation in her voice.
“Ma’am,” I said, tipping an imaginary hat her way, and turned back to the coffee pot.
I gave myself a warm-up and tested it. I doctored it up till it was just right and turned to see a red-faced Jessica standing off to the side.
“Sorry about that, my mom shouldn’t have… She’s been trying to play matchmaker and…”
“No, I get it. You’re dating Lance,” I told her. “Moms can be weird, I hear.”
“I…wait, what about your mom?”
“Never really knew her,” I admitted. “I mean, she was around until I was about two or so, but I don’t remember her. Just a memory of a picture I used to keep on my dresser, you know?”
“Oh, I didn’t. Sorry,” she said and sounded like she meant it.
“No big thing. That’s got to be embarrassing, your mom trying to match make while you’ve got a boyfriend.”
“Yeah, she doesn’t like Lance much. In fact, you used to despise each other if I remember, right?”
/>
“That sounds like a change in the subject,” I said, motioning to a pair of chairs away from her mom and the TV; she nodded and followed.
“It was,” she said, sitting down. “Sorry, I just can’t. We argue about him all the time. She hates that he runs a bar and says he’s probably into all sorts of other immoral things. Mom bringing him up and seeing you… I remember all the fights you two got into.”
“I’ve tried to put it in the past,” I told her.
“Why was it, though? I never understood.”
I sighed. She was like a dog, worrying a bone to death. “It boils down to the fact I grew up dirt poor and didn’t have things as nice as him. I didn’t appreciate him rubbing my nose in it. That’s about all it really was,” I said, omitting a lot more than that.
“I don’t know…”
“So you had a crush on me in high school?” I asked her.
Her mouth dropped open, and her cheeks flushed. “Nice change of subject,” she said, and it looked like she was opening her mouth to say something when my grandma came in.
She looked around a moment, saw me, then came walking over. Her features lit up when she saw Jessica and I sitting together. She looked over at Jessica’s mom, who gave her a smile and a wave. In small towns, everyone knew everyone one way or another. Even small cities could be like that in regional areas. I’d learned that fast in college.
“Hi Grandma, how was he?”
“About twice as ornery as you saw. Hello Jessica, you’ve done wonders with Raider. If he hadn’t learned manners quickly, Bud would have put him out.”
“Not my pup,” I told her.
“You don’t know why he doesn’t like dogs?” Grandma asked.
“If we can’t eat it, it’s a waste of feed and time,” I told her, dumbing down the mantra that he’d instilled in my head.
“Oh, that’s a bunch of bull.” She sat down next to me, making her seat smack into mine with the way she flopped. “He got into a fight about… well, things men fight about. One of the soberer of the bunch sicced his dog on him, and it tore him up pretty good. That’s where he got that limp from.”
Blackout: Still Surviving Page 5
