Year 28 by JL Mac

Author:JL Mac [Mac, JL]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub
Publisher: JL Mac Books
Published: 2020-09-30T16:00:00+00:00

Wal-Mart.

Hell has frozen over and pigs now fly because clad in Wal-Mart clothing head to toe, including cute little sandals, Sy and I are now going to dinner at a local place he swears has the absolute best ribs. Yes, I said the sandals are cute. Actually so is the clothing. Soft denim shorts with a frayed hem and a flowing top that I had not expected to like at all. The designer clothes in my apartment back home are weeping but the big box store was the only place nearby with clothing to get me by until Sy takes me back to Palmetto Grove tomorrow for my car and suitcase. I can’t say I care about luxury threads at the moment, not when Sylas is temporarily back in my life for an encore performance. For the most part I’m enjoying this little getaway.

Mrs. Oppenheim was a lovely old lady who beamed when she saw Sylas then promptly frowned at me. Still, diplomatic Raegan Potter in place I shook her hand and declared her plantation style home as being the most beautiful house I had ever seen. That was enough to win her approval it seemed because she immediately took me on a tour of the sprawling property. Sylas unloaded bag after bag of red mulch from his truck while taking sly glances my direction. The action was reciprocal. Watching his lean, muscular body working is a sight. He worked for over an hour; sweat inching in drops down his temple, over his throat, lower to his chest. He stacked the bags of mulch and potting soil neatly in the garden shed and Sy promised her he would return and we would sort out her flowerbeds for the rapidly approaching fall season.

“So who did you say we’re meeting for dinner?” I ask as I slide into the vinyl-upholstered booth first, followed by Sylas. His thick leg rests against mine beneath the table and giddy butterflies inside bat their wings with gusto. Am I really here with Sy?

“Eugene Yoder and Dale Hayden. Gene does the books for me and since you agreed to help, I figured you should meet the money man,” he explains. “And Dale is a hand. I met him about a year ago.” Sy squints his eyes, thinking. “He’s a mechanic by trade but he’s a jack of all trades so I pay him to help me out with the fleet.” He shrugs his big shoulders and flips over a paper menu, jabbing his finger at a menu item. “These. You gotta get these ribs.” Just then the bell over the door to the restaurant clangs a pathetic sound that falls flat. A man with thinning russet hair walks toward our table showcasing a kind smile. I note his slight limp and absently wonder what caused it. He’s nowhere near old, middle aged perhaps but certainly not old enough to walk with a cane due to old age. Dressed in blue jeans and an LSU Tigers tee shirt he dips his head toward me.

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