“That’s pretty cool.”
“I know how tough it can be to find a job after you’ve served time. A lot of folks like to decide your future based on your past. I believe if you keep your head on straight, one shouldn’t have anything to do with the other. That’s why I kept after Sam. He was smart, just made some bad decisions. And now, after he finally listened to me, this happens. Sammy was a good man. He didn’t deserve this.”
“I know. He was.”
We rode in silence for the next ten minutes.
Juice finally exited the highway and we drove through a main thoroughfare dotted with restaurants and antique shops. A few minutes later, we turned into the Douglas County Plaza parking lot and parked in front of a store.
I nearly fainted when I read the sign above the store entrance.
TRI-COUNTY OUTFITTERS
Chapter 39
“Ellice, you getting out?” Juice asked.
My head spun. Tri-County Outfitters. The flyer from Michael’s duffel bag and underneath Max’s desk blotter. All I could think about was the fact that two men—Sam and Michael—from two very different parts of my life were tied to this place in front of me. And now, both of them were dead.
“Ellice . . . you okay?” Juice asked again.
I finally looked up at him as he stood holding the car door open for me. “Oh. Yeah, I’m sorry.”
I’d never been inside a gun shop before. The place was huge and buzzed with customers, and more than a few of them wore “Make America Great Again” caps. One customer wore a red T-shirt emblazoned with a Confederate flag and the words IT’S NOT HATE. IT’S HERITAGE. Some of them watched us with suspicious glances as we walked inside. This seemed like exactly the kind of place Max Lumpkin would frequent.
I turned to Juice. “I don’t get a good feeling about this place.”
“Trust me. It’s no different than a lot of other places in Atlanta. They think we’re here to buy something. They’ll take our cash. They just won’t invite us to their house for Sunday dinner.” He gave my arm a light squeeze and smiled. “It’ll be okay.”
A husky guy with a goatee and buzz cut approached us at the counter. “Can I help you folks with something?”
“Yes, sir. How do you do? I’m looking for Robert. He was helping me a few days ago.”
“Sure thing. I’ll go grab him,” the man said.
“Thank you, sir.” Juice looked at me and grinned after the man walked off. “I had to switch things up there for a minute.”
“No problem. A brother has to do what a brother has to do.” I smiled.
“Listen, while we’re here, you’re my girlfriend—”
“What?!”
“The guy we’re gonna talk to owes me a favor, but I don’t want him to lose his job. Just play along.” Juice narrowed his eyes and looked at me.
“Now what?”
“I’m checking your eyes to see what they tell me since I called you my girlfriend.” I rolled my eyes and he gave me a wink. “I’m just trying to take the edge off.” He rubbed my arm. “Come on, you look like you’re about to boost a couple guns outta here. Relax.”
I glanced around the store. The only gun I’d ever seen was Willie Jay’s when he came home and placed it on the top shelf of the closet. Guns were like a foreign, scary object to me. I’d never seen so many guns in one place. Guns on the wall, in glass cases, on shelves. They were everywhere. If this were just one store, how massive this industry must be and how violent our society had become.
A young white guy wearing chinos and a button-down shirt appeared behind the counter. If I’d seen him anywhere else, I might have mistaken him for a computer programmer in Midtown.
“Thaddeus Johnson! Good to see you again.”
Thaddeus?
“Rob. How you been? Maybe you could show me something small but powerful for my girlfriend here. Atlanta’s not the friendly little city it used to be.” I cringed when he called me his girlfriend again. I knew this was just his little game. I doubt it made a bit of difference to the guy behind the counter.
“Absolutely. Let’s go down to the end case.”
The guy led us to the far end of the store, where the three of us stood alone. Both Juice and the sales guy casually browsed the guns in the case. I kept looking across the store, wondering how many times Sam had been inside this place. Sam was an extrovert, but this hardly seemed like the kind of venue he’d frequent. Had he been so desperate for a job that he’d come in here?