by Steph Post
Table of Contents
Title Page
Scripture
ONE
TWO
THREE
FOUR
FIVE
SIX
SEVEN
EIGHT
NINE
TEN
ELEVEN
TWELVE
THIRTEEN
FOURTEEN
FIFTEEN
SIXTEEN
SEVENTEEN
EIGHTEEN
NINETEEN
TWENTY
Copyright Notice
“Behold, all ye that kindle a fire, that compass yourselves about with sparks: walk in the light of your fire, and in the sparks that ye have kindled. This shall ye have of mine hand; ye shall lie down in sorrow.”
–Isaiah 50.11
Ramey closed her eyes, leaned back against the glass and, for a moment, wished it all away. The heat from the sun-blasted windshield stung her shoulder blades and the backs of her bare arms. She pressed her palms against the shimmering hood of the silver Cadillac and lost herself in the feverish sensation. The burn was like a calescent itch she was finally able to scratch. There was not a breath of movement around her, and the stillness of the salvage yard in the late evening was both suffocating and reassuring. Ramey languidly opened her eyes, looked up at the impossible cobalt of the sky, deep and cool, far away from the pillars of crushed cars radiating heat all around her, and sighed.
“Lesser, I know you’re there. What do you want?”
Ramey sat up and rubbed her hands along the thighs of her jeans. She slid down to the edge of the Cadillac’s hood and coiled her long dark auburn hair around her wrist. She twisted it up off her neck while waiting for the embarrassed seventeen-year-old to come around a stack of plywood pallets.
“Sorry. I didn’t want to just come up on you like that. Though, I guess I did anyway, huh?”
Lesser grinned, but then quickly looked down as he pushed his stringy blond hair back behind his pierced ears.
“I know you come out here sometimes to get away. Probably from me, I bet. Or Benji and his moods. I wasn’t spying on you or nothing, I swear.”
Still keeping his eyes on the ground, Lesser nudged a piece of rubber hose with the toe of his dirty Converse sneaker. Ramey waited until he glanced up at her and then she shrugged her shoulders expectantly.
“Lesser. What do you want?”
“Oh, sorry. Judah’s here. He’s back. Just got back. He’s up at the garage. Said he wanted to talk to you.”
Lesser raised his head and smiled at her before jamming his hands into his pockets and turning on his heel. Ramey tried not to laugh as she called out her thanks. Lesser had been working at Cannon Salvage for more than a month, but he still stumbled over himself every time he was alone with her. The kid was good, though. A high school dropout, sure, but a halfway decent mechanic, and Ramey didn’t know what they would have done without him. She took a last look around at the little niche of seclusion she had made for herself in the back corner of the lot before heading back up to the garage.
Ramey emerged from the maze of stripped, derelict cars and heaps of twisted scrap metal and debris to find Benji finally out of the sagging aluminum lawn chair he had installed himself in early that morning. She figured Judah being back probably had something to do with it. He was leaning awkwardly against the bumper of a turquoise Firebird, with one of his crutches rammed up under his armpit and the other discarded in the oily gravel at his feet. Benji glanced up at her as he unscrewed the oil cap and underneath his flop of blond bangs she could see that his eyes were distant and glazed. Ramey picked up the fallen crutch and set it against the car’s dented fender as she walked by. Benji only grunted.
She stepped through one of the large, roll-up doors into the cool shade of the double bay garage. Judah was standing with his back to her, staring hard at the mess of papers spread out across a metal desk in the corner. Ramey crossed her arms and leaned against a metal storage cabinet just inside the door.
“Want to take a crack at it? It’s tons of fun, let me tell you.”
Judah poked at a stack of curling yellow legal pads before turning around.
“Are you kidding?”
Ramey raised her eyebrows as she grinned at him.
“Come on. It’s only a lifetime of Sherwood’s twisted accounts and cooked books. There’s probably only thirty steps in each transaction to make sure they all come out clean in the wash.”
Judah’s lips cracked into a lopsided smile. There was a flickering spark in his gray eyes as he came across the garage toward her.
“Well, it’s a good thing I’ve got you in my life, Ramey Barrow. You’re the only one smart enough around here to make any sense of it.”
“That the only reason you want me in your life?”
Judah put his arm around her waist and leaned into her.
“It’s one.”
He kissed her collarbone and Ramey cupped the back of his neck, running her fingers up into his dark hair. Judah needed a haircut. He always needed a haircut. She leaned her head against his as he looked over her shoulder and surveyed the salvage yard.
“How’s he doing today?”
Ramey knew he meant Benji. Judah put his hand on her hip and she could feel the tension in the way he moved his body. But there was a weariness, too, in the slump of his spine. In the slackness of his fingers. The way he rested his chin against the curve of her shoulder as he took in Cannon Salvage, the front for the criminal enterprise he had so desperately wanted to escape, but had now circled back around to, like a snake devouring its own tail. Judah couldn’t seem to break free of it. Ramey only hoped he still wanted to.
“He’s the same. I moved out here to the garage so I could keep an eye on him.”
“And how many pills, you think?”
Judah stepped away from her, but kept his eyes on his younger brother. Ramey shook her head.
“Hell if I know. He’s been up and out of bed for two weeks now. I can’t control what he takes anymore.”
“I know.”
Judah frowned and screwed his palms into his eyes as if trying to scour the dust of the day away. He walked over to the poker table and collapsed into one of the metal folding chairs. Ramey followed, grabbing her cigarettes and lighter from the desk and dropping them on the stained green felt in front of Judah. He lit two and handed her one as she sat down next to him.
“So. How’d it go today?”
Judah tapped his cigarette on the edge of the orange plastic ashtray.
“You really want to know?”
Ramey nodded, waiting. Judah leaned back in the chair and stared down at the table.
“I spent all day riding around with Gary, trying to track down Lonnie Able.”
She frowned around her cigarette.
“All day? I thought the bar was just over in Keystone Heights.”
“Turns out, when Lonnie isn’t running bets for us over at The Drunk Goat, he’s selling weed to middle schoolers down in Alachua. Who knew we had such a winner working for us?”
“Well, Sherwood knew how to pick ’em.”
Judah wedged his cigarette in the ashtray and laced his hands behind his head.
“You have no idea. Between Lonnie and the old bag behind the bar at The Goat who, I swear to God, must use cat piss for perfume, I’ve never wanted to take a shower so bad in my life. And then being stuck in Gary’s van all day. Nothing but Big Mac wrappers and balled up sweat socks rolling around. Porno mags in the floorboard. And the smell. Jesus, I tell you, something died in the back of that van. I mean, what the hell’s wrong with these people?”
Ramey shook her head.
“Did you at least get the money?”
“
The bartender had the cash for the cigarette load the Daughtry boys brought down from Alabama last month.”
“That’s good. But the rest? The take from the last two weeks? There wasn’t too much going on, but the Brickyard should’ve brought in some action. It did up at The Ace and over at Ponies.”
She watched the lines in Judah’s face tighten.
“Lonnie was a few thousand light.”
Ramey blinked the smoke out of her eyes. She tried to bite back her frustration.
“I guess everyone’s trying to get theirs now that Sherwood’s gone. Even Burke is talking about keeping a bigger cut of the vig. They’re all a bunch of damn buzzards.”
Judah nodded slowly.
“Yep.”
Ramey picked at a scratch on the edge of the table.
“We need to get that money over to The Ace. With that big fight on pay-per-view coming up this week, Burke’s gonna need it to start making loans now. We’ve already moved all the free cash around.”
Judah nodded again.
“I know. I think we got Lonnie back in line, though. He’s not real trouble, he’s just trying to skim. Testing the waters now that Sherwood and Levi are out of the picture. That kinda shit. He just about had a heart attack when Gary moved in to make the point a little clearer. Started hyperventilating or something.”
“Jesus.”
She rolled her eyes and crushed out her cigarette.
“That hundred and fifty grand we put back in the ground sure would come in handy right about now.”
Judah rested his chin on his hand and cut his eyes up at her.
“You know we can’t touch it.”
Ramey shot him a wry smile.
“I know. But a girl can dream, can’t she?”
Judah scratched at the stubble on his cheeks, ignoring her comment.
“Lonnie’s calling some guys. The rest of the money should be at The Goat tonight.”
“So you gotta go back down there?”
Ramey could see the shadows hanging underneath Judah’s eyes, the skin tight, the color of healing bruises. It was getting to be too much. No, it had been too much all along.
“Can’t. I’m sending Gary back with Alvin. I got to meet Nash tonight.”
Ramey frowned.
“Alone?”
Judah twisted his cigarette in the ashtray and then stubbed it out. He shoved the ashtray away from him and turned in his chair to face Ramey.
“Shouldn’t be a problem. Nash is just handing over the take from Sipsy’s.”
Ramey chewed on her bottom lip while she picked at the felt tabletop.
“Yeah, but Nash has been operating all the way out in Putnam County on his own. You’ve never even laid eyes on the guy before. You don’t know a thing about him. Or what he thinks of you taking Sherwood’s place.”
She abruptly turned toward Judah.
“I don’t think you should go alone.”
She started to reach for his hand, but realized that he wasn’t looking at her. He was looking past her. Benji’s gruff voice echoed across the garage.
“I’ll go with you.”
Ramey twisted around in her chair. Benji was leaning on his crutches in the open bay door behind her, his left leg jutting out awkwardly in front of him. Lesser was standing a few feet behind, cleaning grease out of his nails with a rag. Like Judah and Ramey, he was staring at Benji’s grimy cast. Judah stood up and shook his head.
“No, Benji. Not yet. Give that leg a little while longer.”
Ramey glanced at Benji and saw the bitterness stinging in his eyes. This wasn’t the Benji she had known all her life, with blue eyes sparkling, an irrepressible smile and a joke for everyone. He had been the only Cannon who didn’t have a tightness in his jaw or lines permanently creasing his brow. Didn’t have devils of some kind or another always gnawing at his heart. She missed the old Benji who could bring light into a room just by crossing over the threshold. Her eyes settled on the tracks of puckered scars running down the left side of his face and she wondered if she would ever see that man again.
Lesser stepped forward, wringing the rag in both hands, and cast an uneasy side glance at Benji.
“I can go. I mean, if you need someone to go. I can do it.”
Judah stared hard at Lesser for a moment, but finally turned to Benji.
“What do you think?”
Benji hopped a little as he adjusted himself on the crutches. He wouldn’t meet anyone’s gaze.
“Sure, send him. Why not. Gotta bust his Cannon cherry sometime.”
Ramey looked up at Judah standing next to her. His eyes were locked with Benji’s.
“All right.”
Judah broke his gaze and turned to Lesser. He nodded toward the raised lift on the far side of the garage.
“But get the transmission in that Honda finished first. That stupid parking lot racer has been up there all week, taking up space. Ray’s coming by in the morning to pick it up.”
“Oh, right. Sure thing, I’m on it!”
Lesser grinned and darted away. Ramey waited until he was on the other side of the garage before turning to Judah.
“You sure about this? I can go.”
Benji stumped forward on his crutches, his lips curling up into an ugly sneer.
“Give him a break, Ramey. Quit trying to be his mother.”
Ramey stood up.
“Are you serious?”
Benji shrugged.
“Just let the kid go. We’re gonna need him sooner or later to do more than just swing a monkey wrench.”
“Oh, is that so?”
Ramey turned to Judah, but his face was expressionless, his eyes flat, telling her nothing. When he saw the look on her face, though, he gave her a half smile.
“It’s fine. Benji’s right, it’ll be good for Lesser. He’s just going along for the ride. Nothing to it.”
Benji smirked at her before pivoting on his crutches and hobbling away. Judah watched him go and then turned back to Ramey. He put his hands on her shoulders and shook her lightly.
“Stop worrying. Lesser will be okay.”
Ramey put her hands over Judah’s, gripping his fingers in hers.
“Lesser’s not the one I’m worried about.”
Judah’s face fell into a frown.
“Ramey, I need you to keep holding on just a little longer.”
“Yeah, you keep saying that.”
She averted her eyes, but there was no masking the sharp edge of accusation in her voice. Judah squeezed her shoulders and dipped his head, trying to make her look at him.
“I’m doing everything I can here. I know it was only supposed to be a week.”
Ramey turned her head, still keeping her eyes away from him. A rough laugh caught in her throat.
“And then two. And then it was just a month. Just until Benji got out of the hospital. And then it was just until he got back on his feet. Well, his feet are under him, but it looks like we’re still here.”
Judah shook his head.
“You know it’s not that simple.”
She knew. They had been over it a hundred times before, but that still didn’t make it any easier. Judah let go of her and took a step back.
“So, you just keep holding on. Okay? I need that from you. I’ve never let you down before and I’m damn sure not about to start now.”
That wasn’t entirely true. But Ramey wanted to believe it. She wanted to and needed to. Her chest heaved.
“Okay.”
“And I’ll be fine tonight.”
Ramey finally turned to him and met his eyes.
“I know.”
LESSER GLANCED over at Judah, relaxed behind the wheel, and then purposefully slouched down on the other end of the F-150’s maroon vinyl bench seat. He cranked the window down and resisted the urge to brush his chin-length hair of out his face. It whipped across his eyes, but he tried to ignore it as he slung his elbow up on the edge of the window and squinted through the streaked windshi
eld into the lowering twilight. He rode in silence for a few miles, trying to watch Judah out of the corner of his eye, but not be noticed doing so.
In the luminous green glow from the dash, Judah seemed so at ease, his arm half out the window, fingers just barely touching the steering wheel, a lit cigarette burning down in the other hand, resting lightly on the gearshift. The wind seemed only to graze his hair. Judah appeared to be completely engrossed in the monotony of the road ahead of them. Or maybe he was preoccupied with some kind of deep thoughts, of Ramey most likely, and Lesser was startled when Judah suddenly tossed his cigarette out the window and picked up the pack from the dash console.
“Go ahead, kid. It’s not as glamorous as it looks.”
Judah held the pack out to him. Lesser ducked his chin, embarrassed for staring. He quickly looked out the window and brushed his hair back behind his ears.
“No, thanks, Judah. That shit will kill you.”
He heard Judah laugh and toss the pack down.
“You sound like Ramey.”
Lesser fiddled with the fake diamond studs in his ears and then turned back to Judah.
“Yeah. Well, Ramey’s something else, ain’t she?”
He regretted it as soon as he spoke, but Judah only smiled, his eyes still on the road ahead.
“She sure is.”
Lesser couldn’t help himself.
“I mean, I meant that in the way, you know. I ain’t moving in on your girl or nothing.”
He regretted that even more. Lesser sat up straight and pushed his hair back again. He wished to God that it was long enough to pull back into a ponytail. He glanced nervously at Judah again, but Judah was still smiling.
“I didn’t think you were, Lesser.”
“I mean, I know, you and her. You’re like the king and queen of the Cannons now. I would never even look at her that way. Though, I mean, it’s not like I wouldn’t neither. I mean, Ramey’s like every guy’s dream. Back when I was in school, me and all the boys, we—”
“Lesser.”
Lesser clamped his jaw shut.
“I think you should probably stop talking about Ramey now.”
Lesser bobbed his head emphatically.
“Yep, you got it.”
He felt like an idiot. He’d been working at Cannon Salvage for almost two months now and yet he still constantly felt like he had to prove himself to Judah. Lesser knew he’d been hired as a mechanic only, just until Benji could get back on his feet, but he was determined to stick around. Benji had always been like an older brother to Lesser and most everything he knew about working on cars and bikes had come from him. Starting at about age twelve, Lesser had hung around the salvage yard, doing anything he could to make himself useful to the Cannons. First to Benji—running for tools, cleaning up, finishing jobs when one of his girlfriends stopped by and needed to be shown the inside of the office trailer—and then to Sherwood and the oldest Cannon brother, Levi. Sherwood had made it clear that he had absolutely no use for Lesser, and usually gave him a look like he was a stray dog about to get a kick in the ribs, but Levi had occasionally noticed him and let him make a run for sandwiches.
