“When’s the big festival?” Collin asks. “How long would we have to pull this off? Assuming we get Mr. Broody on board.”
The we in his question has me internally cheering. “It’s in January.”
“Okay.” He nods, then follows behind James, heading back to the truck without saying anything more. My stomach drops, and the cheering turns to booing.
Chase claps a hand over my shoulder. “Hey, man. I can see it. I really can. But the timeline is really tight. Even the renovations might take longer than that. And you’d need a bunch of businesses willing to start here. To take the risk to move all the way out here on what’s essentially a hope and a prayer.”
Chase was supposed to be my easy sell. And if he’s not on board …
I hear the truck door slam, and the engine rumbles to life. Without speaking, Chase and I head over. The air inside the cab is tense, and no one speaks as James starts back toward town.
As we’re about to turn, three muddy pickups tear through the center of town almost t-boning us. James slams on the brakes and curses under his breath. My heart is thudding out an unsteady rhythm as I grip Collin’s seat in front of me.
A few shouts ring out and the last truck honks its horn. Someone tosses a beer can out the window.
“Good reflexes, man,” Chase says, and his voice is strained.
James shakes his head, and I don’t like the glint in his eyes when they meet mine in the rearview mirror.
“I think it’s time we go see what the residents of Sheet Cake do for fun.”
Chapter Eleven
Pat
I’m not sure what everyone else was expecting, but I for one was not thinking those pickups would lead us to what amounts to a rundown, corrugated metal shed at the edge of the woods with rows of cars and trucks parked in a field next to it.
James followed the other trucks at a distance, and he has his lights off now as we watch a group of guys exit the three vehicles and head toward the open sliding doors. As James rolls down the window, we can hear country music blaring from speakers somewhere.
“This doesn’t seem like the best idea, brother,” Collin says.
But James guns it, pulling up next to one of the parked trucks that almost ran us down. “Might as well meet the locals,” he says with a grin I do not like one bit. “Right, Patty? I mean, if we’re going to live here and set up shop. I’m sure they’ll be happy to meet their new landlords.”
Sometimes, I think my oldest brother has a death wish. James throws open his door and steps out while Chase, Collin, and I exchange uneasy glances from inside the cab of the truck.
“This does not bode well,” Chase says as James takes long strides toward the building, not looking back.
“We probably shouldn’t let him go in there alone.” I unbuckle my seatbelt.
“If this goes south, I’m blaming you,” Collin says.
I roll my eyes. “Clearly, I’m the family scapegoat.”
By the time the three of us reach the shed, James has a can of beer he lifts in salute. He’s standing at the bar, which is essentially a long board propped up by a few large metal barrels. A few white coolers are against the back wall, manned by a guy with a beard that’s more Duck Dynasty than hipster.
“Beer?” James asks us, tipping his can at us. “I’m buying.”
Chase shakes his head no, which isn’t surprising, but Collin and I nod. James hands the guy behind the bar a twenty, and the man pulls two more dripping cans from the cooler, setting them on the makeshift counter. “Next time, you should try the moonshine. I’m Wolf.”