“Well, as long as you had him checked out.” I tell her, relieved. My bestie’s lived a somewhat insulated life at her brother’s hidden-away mansion, and even though she’s graduated medical school, she’s never been too far afield from the shelter of her brother’s protection. I don’t doubt Angel saw the need in the community for the medical center here and built it at cost for Shelby-Love, but my hunch is the reason behind that was to keep his kid sister close.
“You didn’t say where you matched?” I ask, a slight suspicion forming in my mind.
“Oh, here, silly. The Leon Spencer Women’s and Children’s Medical Center. You know they are building a veterans’ center here too? And expanding? This is going to be a premier medical institution now that the Takedas, the Carringtons, and the Loves are on board.” Watching her squeeze the wheel, there’s no denying how infectious her excitement is. It’s amazing to see how the tech plant revitalized the community. Now, folks aren’t reliant on agriculture to make a living.
“Wow, that’s great.” Still, I know even if she wasn’t hard to convince to stay local if her brother had no intention of letting his beloved sister go too far.
We pull up at The Shack to see the parking lot full from front to back with every type of vehicle imaginable. There are el Diablo and Panthers Outcasts choppers present. The MCs are cordial, but the mix can be dangerous if anyone gets out of hand, though it’s less likely with Rudy’s crew out of commission for good.
There’s even a tractor — which is not unheard of. Folks like to come out when they get done for the day, and that could mean stopping here before heading to the next county, which may be a dry one — meaning no alcohol is sold within the city limits. making Shelby-Love the only place they can get spirits.
“Behave.” Seeing Lourdes get a little too excited about the evening ahead, I give her the warning with a stern look.
“Hanging out with your elders has made you a little of a fuddy-duddy,” she snickers, nudging me. “You know old men give you worms.”
“Eww.” That’s awful, but I can’t help but be grossed out and laugh at the same time.
“I know, which is why you need to find somebody young and tender in here with no worms.” She pulls the door open and pushes me into the darkened interior.
The inside of the club is much the same as I encountered the one other time I came here and was promptly turned around because I was underage and everyone knew who my guardian was just as they know he’s no longer my guardian anymore and I’m under Angel’s protection and using Ezekiel-Jane’s property for my tattoo shop.
Still, the bouncer, who looks to be at least seven feet tall, grumbles just short of fee-fi-fo-fum, demanding, “I.D.”
“Oh, come on, Brant.” Lourdes rolls her eyes, pulling out her driver’s license to Ms. Queen’s youngest son.
“Shack policy.” Comes a rumble so deep it seems as though it’s from the deep depths of the earth.
“Not in the mood to argue.” I say, holding mine out for him to inspect.
“Good, cause we don’t need you causing even more trouble ‘round here, now do we?” he side-eyes me.
“Ohh, mean.” Lourdes hisses at him, pulling me behind her with a toss of her hair.
“Let’s get a drink.” Heading over to the bar, I can’t lie and say I don’t feel self-conscious in the bastion of the Loves, who all probably blame me for the problems the town has because I ran away with Easy.
“Do you think this was a good idea?” asks Lourdes after Ms. Queen hands us double shots of Diggs Boys bourbon.
“Hunnie, don’t worry, ain’t nobody mad at you and Easy. In fact, most people are glad y’all stood up for what y’all thought was right.” She assures me, taking a sip of her drink.
“That could just be something folks say to you because you’re my best-friend.” Joining her, I partake in the libation, savoring the mellowness and the smooth slide of the liquor.
“This’ll sneak up on you for sure.” I tell her, holding up the glass, admiring the way the amber dances in the light of the juke joint.
“True, people could just be saying that to my face, but then folks don’t hesitate to speak their minds around here. Like just the other day, Mr. Lemon Harper was still griping about what Thad did at Creative Chaos.” Shaking her head, she turns, then her entire face blooms with heat.
“Who are you looking at?” I try to turn, and she stops me with a “don’t look” expression.
“Hello, Saban, Dr. Carrington.” Lexingston Spencer, aka Dr. Feelgood, as all the ladies in the county call him, comes to stand beside us.
“Hi, Dr. Spencer,” Lourdes says, blushing despite herself.
“Hi,” I say, grinning down into my drink at the way my friend is having a fit over her crush she swears she got over.
“I hear congratulations are in order on your match.” He says smoothly before turning to Ms. Queen. “Hey beautiful, did you get any more of the Louis XIII in?”
“Only for you, sugah,” she coos before turning to her longtime boyfriend to tell him to bring some from the back.
“Yes, I did. Right here at the medical center.” Lourdes claims with pride.
