Sheep's Clothing by Gary Lewis (free ebook reader for pc txt) 📕

around front. "And our goddamn taxes ain't doin' nothin' about it," one of the voices rose above the others. "I lost twelve head of cattle. Ain't nobody payin' me a damn dime for 'em," an obese, balding, middle aged man said as he stood to his feet to slam his cup onto the table. His long, scraggly, graying beard moved up and down with his jaw as he continued complaining to the others seated around him, most dressed in coveralls, camo and dirty jeans. "First time that thing steps foot on my property, I've got two shells with its name on 'em," said another.

"Here you go, buddy." Tony's voice came from just behind Vance's shoulder as the sound of a paper bag plopped onto the bar.

Vance pressed his eyebrows together and clenched his jaw before thinking aloud. "Roy and Willy. Richest pieces of shit in Pine County. Them and their Big Buck Hunting Club. All here."

"The Perkins brothers?" Tony asked, still hovering behind. "Must be doing something right. They own half the farmland in Pine Bluff."

He turned to Tony, now wiping down the shining wet counter. "Ran half the people in town off their land, you mean." Vance's voice grew deeper as he pressed his fist onto the spot where Tony just cleaned. "And selling them off to the highest bidder." Vance tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes as he continued. "Piece by piece, the little rock you live under is being sold away."

Tony unfolded the damp, white bar towel, refolding onto a fresh side as he looked up. "Vance, I really don't think your pops put a lot into saving the property." His thick arm reached across the bar to slap his hand onto Vance's shoulder, clasping it in a tight grip while staring him in the face with compassionate eyes. "Everyone knows he ain't been right since your mom..." Tony's voice grew quieter as it fell to a dead pause.

Vance pulled away. "Not even what I was talking about."

Tony smiled as he leaned his head back and opened his arms into a shrug. "What is it then?"

"Tell me, how are you goin’ to save up for that culinary school, wasting your days away in here?" Vance asked.

"Vance, I'm gonna be a master chef and open my own kitchen right out here." Tony spread his hand across the direction of the glass windows that offered a perfect view of the street. "Tony's. And you're gonna eat there."

"This shit hole will be a distant memory by then," Vance said, turning away from the bar.

"Later, Vance," Tony said with his usual huge grin.

"See you around," Vance said over his shoulder and as he walked out the door.

The bright morning sunlight gleamed from the windshields of the parked cars crowding the concrete walkway just beside the entrance. Vance cuffed his hand to shield his eyes from the blinding glare as he stepped toward his red pickup parked across the hot, freshly paved lot.

He snapped his sight toward the approaching beggar, wearing a brown, tattered t-shirt and filthy jeans littered in last week's filth. It was a stench he didn't care to be burdened with and it seemed that the old man's condition hadn't blinded his sense of when to silently back away.

###

After arriving home, Vance opened the squeaky front door slowly and walked inside. He stepped as lightly as possible, avoiding every creaky spot on the floor as he again turned the doorknob before silently pushing it closed. It had become a routine.

He walked into the living room, carrying a bag filled with egg biscuits and grilled chicken before turning on the television and taking his place on the couch. Vance quickly unwrapped a biscuit, ready to cram it into his face, until something caught his attention. It was a headline on the news. A grin smirked across his face when he saw what it said.

#Janice#

The carport canopy offered the perfect shelter from the glaring morning light as Janice sat on the concrete steps and scrolled through her messages.

"Sorry I didn't get back to you last night. I got sick. We still doing pictures next weekend?" from Sarah. Thoughts of her camera and long forgotten photography shoots flooded her mind. It had always been a safe space for her. She could be a part of things while remaining on the sidelines. But it eventually became a way to immortalize fleeting moments of joy and transform them into a place to reminisce in melancholy about the possibilities that had long since passed away.

Her neighborhood was dead quiet. Matching, medium two-story houses, most with empty garages and carports, lined the street. A ghost town. Janice kicked a tiny piece of gravel across the polished concrete floor of the carport. Wish I had my own car. Her eyes lifted to the distant peak of Bluff Mountain. But where would I go? My boyfriend is too ashamed of where he lives to have anyone over and everyone else is always busy. 

Janice rose to her feet and opened the door, only to pause for a moment. The jingle of a collar was still missing and her search for a little, white ball of fluff to come prancing toward her was in vain. As she entered the kitchen, Janice noted that the sink was clean, garbage had been taken out and dishes were put up. Then the familiar sound of a car came from the driveway. This time it wasn't David or Vance. She looked to see her mother's silver minivan come to an abrupt stop outside.

She was still wearing her dirty factory uniform and her curly, dark brown, shoulder length hair was unusually tousled to the side as she briskly walked up the stairs before rushing in through the carport doorway into the kitchen. Her eyes softened into relief as they met Janice's and she reached out, wrapping her in her arms. "I'm so glad you didn't go to the cliffs yesterday," she began.

#Tony#

It was business as usual at the Sunset Diner where