Gin Fling (Bootleg Springs, #5)(22)

“Think about it. How do your brothers interact? Are they cautious with each other? Sensitive to each other’s feelings?”

“Uh. No.” He laughed.

“They harass each other constantly, right?”

“Yeah. I guess,” he said.

“And now they’re harassing you. Because you’re one of them.”

“That’s kind of bittersweet. ‘You’re one of us. Now we’re going to emotionally torture you.’ Couldn’t they have just gotten me a card or something?”

I snorted and died a little inside. I’d spent entire years in junior high school wishing I had one of those adorable, bubbly laughs. But hey, I had the wind back to snort-laugh, so it wasn’t a total loss. “Culturally speaking, you’ve been initiated. And now a lot is riding on your reaction to the initiation.”

“In what way?”

“What if you let your hurt feelings steer you out of town, out of this family? Turn tail. Pull up stakes. Insert the appropriate Southernism here. You’d be rejecting their invitation to join their ranks.”

“Okay. What’s the better option?” Jonah asked, interested now.

The man had to have issues with belonging considering he grew up rejected in a very real sense by his biological father. It only made sense. And the fact that he was listening told me he cared very much.

“If you react in a way they’ll understand and appreciate, you’ll prove that you deserve to be welcomed. You deserve the place they’ve offered you.”

A slow grin spread across his face, and I had to turn away from the wattage. It was like staring at the sun. The handsome sun that was making my core temperature rise and causing a hormone dump in my brain.

“Shelby, how familiar are you with Bootleg Justice?”

I decided not to mention that nearly every participant in my survey waxed poetically about the merits of an off-the-books “legal” system.

“Vaguely, in that I watched Rhett Ginsler cover Rocky Tobias’s pickup truck in shaving cream bumper to bumper after Rocky ran a stop sign and nearly chased Rhett’s granny off the road,” I said. “What do you have in mind?”

“Are you coming to the deck party Saturday?” Jonah asked.

Was this a date? Was Jonah asking me on a date when I was sweaty and wearing a tank top that said “Everything Hurts and I’m Dying”?

“I hadn’t planned on it,” I said weakly.

I’d planned on spending the day and evening binge-watching a new horror show on Netflix. But if the sweaty god before me wanted a date with me… Okay. My brain was oxygen deprived. I’d already established that. Jonah hadn’t asked me to go to the party. He’d asked me if I’d pick up celery at the grocery store. Or wondered what kind of laundry detergent I used. Also, just because he was revealing his mushy center to me didn’t mean I had to fall into the trap.

“Well, I was thinking, the party might be the perfect time for our feud to explode,” he mused.

Ah. I was a tool for revenge. Not a hot date. I was more comfortable with that.

“So you’ll train me if I help you get revenge on your family?” I clarified.

He nodded. “I know it sounds stupid, but around here—”

“Bootleg justice,” I filled in for him.

He grinned, and my knees went a few degrees weaker.





*



Q. What institutional resource do you find most helpful in your community?



Hung Kim: I had to Google “institutional resource,” Shelby. Might wanna dumb these questions down a little. I can probably speak for most of the community when I say Bootleg Justice, or the authority to solve most problems your own damn self, is helpful and liberating and an important “institutional resource.”





12





Jonah





“Hurry up, Bodine!” Scarlett hollered from the dock. Because I thought things like “hollered” now.

I raised a hand and jogged across her yard to where it kissed the lakefront. It hit me. The quiet waters lapping at the pebbled land. The scents of deep water, sunscreen, and beer wove together to create that perfect early summer smell.

The sense of déjà vu was almost overwhelming.

We’d met this way. Scarlett and her brothers returning from a day on the water, and there I was, waiting on land to introduce myself.

In one year, I’d been absorbed into the community. Into the family. I’d been accepted by them. Well, most of them, I thought, eyeing Gibs where he tinkered with the motor on the floating deck. The deck was a floating monstrosity with railings, seating, built-in cooler holders, and speakers big enough to entertain half the lake.

“All right, let’s talk about the rules,” Bowie said, his arm slung around Cassidy’s shoulder, when I hopped aboard the floating party island. “Number one: No talking about anything related to the investigation.”

“And if y’all do,” Scarlett said menacingly.

“We throw you in the seaweedy part of the lake,” Jameson and Leah Mae said together. They were cozied up on lawn chairs, beers already cracked. The artist and the model, looking cool and happy and relaxed.

I felt an unexpected twinge of… envy? Maybe. Leah Mae reminded me a little bit of Rene. Something about her sunny smile, the little gap between her front teeth. Rene never had the chance to be that happy with anyone, let alone me.