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She nodded and the sisters made their way down the stairs.
"Bye, Theory," Targen's goof ass finally managed.
Looking over her shoulder, she gave him a small smile.
"It's 'see you later,' Targen. We don't say 'bye'—too permanent," she said softly.
"Bye, Real!" Everly and Emory called simultaneously from the front seat.
"Y'all ain't cute," I mumbled.
Danny chuckled. My head snapped in his direction as the women pulled off.
"Something funny,cowboy?"
I had to give it to his country ass—he looked me right in the eye, a smirk still on his face.
"Always amusing when one of the Miller girls and acityboygot something going on, but it's not my business to share," he said as an older model F-250 pulled up.
I guessed that was whoever the hell Bruce was. Danny didn't take off right then, though. Instead, he looked at Targen and me like he was trying to figure out what to think. He readjusted that damn cowboy hat before he spoke.
"Saw Pip over here talking with y'all. She got a feel for people so y'all must be decent. When you get into town, cuz I know you're going, start at Wilcox Automotive. The Infiniti hadn't been moved in a little while, so they'll get Rally and the crew to give it a quick check-up while they walk around Main Street. Somebody will tell you where they headed."
Too stubborn to thank him, I just nodded.
"Now, I need some information in return. How long you think y'all will be here? They gon' be betting on that down on the farm and y'all could help a brother win."
I glanced over at Targen. I still hadn't run my new timetable by him, and I thought about how Cairo was so sure he was going to shoot me down. As usual, my nigga came through, though.
"A week or two, probably," he answered. "Long enough."
I nodded once. Definitely long enough.
But long enough for what?
* * *
The heart of Main Street, Emancipation, Louisiana, looked like something out of an old movie. Right off the little highway that had brought us into town, it stretched for about a mile of red brick buildings with sparkling picture windows, clean sidewalks, and hanging plants. Storefronts and restaurants stood side by side, inviting visitors in. There was even a barber shop with one of those old-fashioned poles in front and an urgent care with a medical cross sticking out.
"What the hell?" Juvie mumbled.
He was only nineteen, a street-smart kid who could already drive his ass off when Targen met him five years ago. We still didn't know the full story behind that one.
"Real done brought our asses to the Twilight Zone," responded Markel.
"Shut the fuck up."
I shot them a nasty look over my shoulder before pulling open the door of Wilcox Automotive, a combination repair shop, gas station, and tiny dealership from what I could see, set off a little bit from the south end of Main Street. It was more modern than I would've expected, with a spotless waiting area surrounded by a couple of lunch counters and shelves that seemed to have everything from motor oil to olive oil. Juvie let out a low whistle of appreciation at how put together it was. Aside from music and electricity, the whistle was about the only sound in the store as the customers gawked at us.
"Y'all ain't gotta make it look like we ain't used to nothing," a cute little cashier snapped. "How can we help you, gentlemen?"
"Don't wor', Treecie! I got 'em!" a big, goofy-looking dude in coveralls and a skull cap yelled at her.
For some reason, he wore a pair of glasses pushed up on his head and another pair the regular way. Nigga started marching our way with a silly ass grin on his face. He made it a few steps before he tripped over nothing at all, catching himself just in time on a drink cooler.
"Scoop! Watch where you goin'! You gon' kill yo'self," Treecie fussed.
Scoop brushed her off, his stupid grin still in place. "I'm good!" he announced loud enough to be heard back in Texas.