Chapter Nineteen

Jesse

I was getting really tired of sitting in this stupid jail.

How many times had I been here? A dozen? More? Usually, it was trumped-up stupidity, when the Andersons just wanted me out of the way or to annoy me over something trivial and tossed me in, only to let me out in the morning without a charge. A brake light was out and I was ‘swerving’ or something.

Then there were the fights. I’d had a few of those. Not all of them involved Anderson brothers, but a couple did. Usually, I’d be attacked by some guy who was upset that his girl looked at me the wrong way, or I flirted with her when she approached me or something like that. I’d fight back and usually knock the guy out. Then his buddies would attack, there’d be a brawl involving one or more of my brothers, and all of us would end up here.

When that happened, usually, we all buried the hatchet behind bars, would exit without a charge, and all go for a beer together and apologize for getting stupid. It was the Texas way. Even the night in jail to cool off without a charge was part of that, and the Andersons understood it enough to go along.

But then, sometimes, an Anderson would get involved. Either to break it up too early, or they were instigating in the first place, and one of them would catch a black eye or a busted nose. Then someone had to go to jail, and they had to hurt while they were there. That was the rule. An Anderson got touched and whoever did it was going to be minus a functional rib or puking up blood for a little while in a jail cell.

That was me, this time. They’d done a number on me as soon as we were alone. I didn’t even make it into the cell before I was dropped with a nightstick to the back of my knee and then kicked repeatedly until blood was coming out of my mouth. Then they dragged me into the cell and shut the door.

I’d brought this one on myself. I knew it was Arn the second I saw the fence, and I wasn’t going to let him get away with it without some repercussions. Luke had patience, forethought, the ability to think through a situation and get the best revenge possible. I, on the other hand, tended to fly into a fight like a spider monkey and start wailing on the first person I saw that I identified as a problem.

Arnold Anderson was a problem, and I’d hit that dumb bastard right in the jaw. It was worth the beating I took, seeing him reel backward and knowing that he went down because I hit him. Even if it wasn’t Arn, and it was one of his brothers who did the sabotage, I liked to think they all felt it when I rocked him. I was sure they all heard about it.

There was a small sink in the cell, and I went to it to wash off my face and spit again, to see if blood was still coming. When there was no blood, I washed my mouth out, splashed some water on my face, and tried to decide if it was safe to take a nap. The adrenaline had worn off, and I was exhausted all of a \sudden, but I didn’t want to make myself an easy target.

Suddenly, the door opened, and I patted my face dry with my shirt to see who it was. Shocked, I smiled and went over to talk to them.

Oland was coming in, followed by both Luke and Flynn. Flynn looked starstruck by the experience, and Luke looked as annoyed as I would expect he would be after spending more than a few minutes with the city slicker band manager.

“You’re free to go, for now,” Oland said. “Arn could still charge you, so stay in town.”

“Eat my ass,” I said, brushing by him and joining my brother. I gave him a big hug, and he returned it before pushing me ahead of him through the door. We didn’t speak until we were outside, and I smelled fresh air.

“Oh man, I hate that jail,” I said.

“As you should,” Luke muttered, opening the passenger door of the farm truck so I could get in. “You hurt?”

“Busted ribs. That’s about it, I think.”

“Lucky.”

“I think we are glossing over a lot of facts here,” Flynn said from outside of the truck.

“You coming?” Luke asked.

“Yes, but I need some answers first,” he said. “Specifically, what the hell are you thinking punching a cop?”

I glanced at Luke, and we exchanged a knowing look.

“It’s a long story,” Luke said. “Get in.”

“Well, I have all day,” Flynn said. “So start talking.”

“Don’t let him fool you,” I said. “You’ll talk and he will listen for a little bit, but he has the memory of a goldfish.”

“I heard that,” Flynn said. “You might want to watch what you say about me. I’m this close to dropping your band.”

“Why?”

“Why?” he shouted as he took his seat and fumbled with the seat belt. “Why? You just punched a cop . I had to spring you from a jail! These are not normal circumstances, Jesse.”

“You realize my name is Jesse James,” I said. “Don’t you think you could do some marketing magic and make that work for you?”

“I …” He paused, his mouth open and one finger in the air, then slowly, his jaw shut. He swallowed and let his hand fall to his lap. Clearing his throat, he kept his face forward and seemed to have calmed down. “Just tell me about why this is a normal thing for you, please.”

As we drove toward the farm, Luke and I gave him the short version of the Anderson and Galloway feud. When we arrived at the ranch, we all got out, and I began to head to my own car. Flynn followed me, with Luke behind him.

“Where are you going?” Flynn asked.

“I have something I need to do,” I said.

“No, no, no,” Luke said. “Last time you had something to do, I brought you to the jail and you hit Arn in the face.”

“It’s not that,” I said.

“Hang on,” Flynn said. “Just hang on, please. For a minute. Let me think this through.” He paced back and forth for a moment while Luke and I watched him. Running his hand through his rapidly thinning hair, he muttered to himself for a few moments and then turned sharply on his heel and faced us both. “I’ve got it.”

“Good. What is it?” I asked.

“We are going to get you away from Foley for a few days,” Flynn said. “Maybe take you down to the Gulf for a bit. Get out on a boat fishing or something. Let you relax and think about music. I think there are some songs in all this. Don’t you?”

“Probably,” I said. “They won’t be very nice, though.”

“That’s fine, you’re damn near a hard rock band as it is,” he said. “But I think I can play this to our advantage if I can get you out of here for a bit. Really churn this idea that you are an outlaw to the highest order. But I need you not in jail when we go on the road in a few weeks.”

“I give my blessing to this,” Luke said. “You’re a hothead, Jesse. It’d be good to have you out of town while I work this out with the Andersons.”

“I’m a hothead?” I shot back. “Who was it that got into a fistfight at one of my shows?”

“Fair,” Luke said. “But who was it that just socked an Anderson while he was standing inside the jail? Not the smartest place to assault someone, Jess.”

“Fine, you win,” I said. “I’m a hothead. But I have to go now. I have something I have to do.”

“What in the world could be more important than your career, Jesse?”

I glanced at Luke, who nodded. I didn’t know how he knew, but I got the feeling he did. Maybe Amber had told him. Of course, I had no idea how Amber found out, so I was still lost. But somehow, some way, Luke seemed to know.

“I’ll be back,” I said. “I’ll call you, Flynn.”

I hopped in the car before he could protest any further and headed over to the Millers’. Getting out, I could see Flynn and Luke in the truck, heading away to wherever Flynn’s car might be parked, or wherever Luke had picked him up.

I knocked on the door and waited until Mrs. Miller answered. Behind her, Amber was sitting on the couch, Tamara right beside her.

“Hey, Mrs. Miller,” I said.

“Jesse, hi,” she said, smiling brightly. “Come on in. We’re about to have lunch.”

“Oh, no, I’m fine,” I lied as my stomach grumbled at the idea of some of Mrs. Miller’s homemade cooking. “I’m just here to see Charlotte. Is she not here?”

“No,” Mrs. Miller said, looking back to Amber and Tamara for confirmation. “I thought she was with you.”

“Me too,” Tamara said. “She said she was going to go see you this morning, and I haven’t heard from her since.”

“She came to find me?” I asked. “That’s weird, no one told me I had a visitor.”

“You had a visitor?” Mrs. Miller asked. “Where?”

“At the… never mind. It doesn’t matter. If you see Charlotte, will you tell her I came by?”

“Of course,” she said.

“Thanks,” I said, pulling out my phone.

Where the hell was she? And where had she gone when she tried to come find me?