Prologue #2
Whistle's eyes quickly narrowed, then looked at Creed. "Really, Lucky?"
"I didn't mean that, son. Come here."
Before Creed could move, he pulled him into his chest, his hand behind his neck. "I'm just frustrated. You know I love your mama more than I love myself. Hell, he's right." He looked at his firstborn and grinned. "Your mama would kick my ass."
"It's cool, Luck, but what about Starlah? She'll know something's off. She always does. She's been like that all her life."
"Maybe we can send her to Darlene over in Cedar Spike until this shit blows over," Whistle suggested.
"Fuck Darlene. She barely looked at me at my darling's funeral and refused to budge when I asked her to move back here.
Said her sister settled by marrying me, like some city nigga would have made her happier.
She was happy, and we had a great life together before fucking cancer happened.
Hell, it would have still taken her, no matter who she gave her heart to. "
"Luck, maybe he's right about Star… you know, about sending her away," Creed chimed in.
"So now Uncle Whistle's scary ass has got to you, too?" He flicked them off and huffed. "I can go by myself."
He spat on the ground, then tossed his hat on his head, his hand still firmly wrapped around his shotgun.
"You two can stay here with your panties between your ass cheeks."
"Fuck you, Lucky. You're taking shit too far." Whistle stood, pointing at him with slitted eyes. "Besides, you know I'd never let you do shit alone, even if I don't agree with you, you old fool," he muttered before a grin stretched across his face. "And no more talk about my ass."
Lucky and Creed both chuckled. No matter how much the two of them may be at odds, at the end of the day, Whistle always had Lucky's back.
The truth was, Darlene hated him because he'd chosen Dolly over her.
It was a secret and one he'd planned to keep from Whistle and his children.
They all worked at the lumberyard one summer when Darlene and Dolly came to visit their grandparents.
He took one look at Dolly and was immediately smitten by the beauty with ginger-colored hair.
It didn't help that she had hazel eyes and skin the color of lightly creamed coffee. Starlah was the spitting image of her.
"Don't bring Darlene's ass up again, or I'll tell Contessa about how Ruthie goes lean on our bill anytime we're at Jessie's bar for drinks," Lucky jested when Whistle shot daggers at him.
"See that, Creed? Don't be like your uncle. He thought I didn't notice drinks are always on him when Ruthie's the waitress. This nigga barely pays shit when we go there."
"Fuck you, Lucky." He grinned and lit his pipe. "Anyway, the sun's going down. Let's regroup tomorrow. Nighttime ain't safe to be amongst strangers, guns or not. Besides, Starlah will be here soon. She'll get to asking questions if we're out here at each other's throats. You know how she is."
"Yup, nosy like that Dolly of mine was," Lucky agreed when they heard a loud noise from the kitchen. "Goddamn it. Probably Starlah."
Starlah quickly ducked, then jumped over the broom that fell before she jetted down the hallway and into her bedroom. She knew there'd been some financial challenges, but she never took Lucky to involve the Steel family in any illegal dealings.
When she heard his footsteps coming down the hall, she eased into the bathroom and closed the door. After a quick flip of the light switch, she turned on the shower before she quickly took her sneakers off her feet. Within seconds, a few knocks rattled against the door, causing her to jump.
"Star, honey?" Lucky called out to her. "I didn't hear you come in."
"That's because you were too busy scheming," she spewed under her breath.
Starlah plopped onto the toilet lid, then snatched off her socks. Tears slid down her cheeks as she pulled her oil-stained t-shirt off. It bore the name of their family's mechanic shop: Steel Fix It.
While they tended to the farm, the mechanic shop was Starlah's baby.
She'd been tinkering with engines since she was old enough to stand up.
Lucky worked between the two businesses when he could, but Starlah thrived there, so he turned it over to her.
It was right after she'd graduated from high school.
"Star, baby?"
"Yeah, Luck?"
Since they were old enough to speak, they'd mimicked what they heard others call him. He smiled each time they tried to call him Lucky but couldn't, so Luck it was.
"Sweetheart, did something happen today? You don't sound like yourself."
She huffed, close to confronting him, but she knew it was useless.
Lucky wouldn't tell her the truth anyway.
He never did, especially whenever there were financial challenges.
She'd hear it here and there over the years, but never once had he stooped to illegal means…
until now. She was angry, but mostly disappointed.
"Tired, Luck. It was a busy day. Didn't want to turn anyone away." She sniffled, then grabbed a ponytail holder to pull her hair together before she slipped on her shower cap.
"Well, do you need anything?"
"Just a shower. Mind if I take one?" she sassed.
"You sure that's all it is?" he probed, hearing the clipped responses. "Hope you and Colt didn't have a spat. Boy can't stay on your good side for shit, huh?"
He chuckled, and she rolled her eyes. She was over Colt, or she tried to be. However, leave it up to Lucky, and she'd be Colt Shaw's wife, filled with babies in the next year or two. That seemed to be every girl's goal in Pellum — marry young and pump out babies.
Not Starlah, though. She liked working on cars and spending time with family and her Anatolian Shepherd pup, Chevy. He was huge in size, territorial, and yapped so much that she named him after one of her favorite models of cars.
"Luck, can I please just shower?"
"Sure, baby. I'll lock up but feel better. We're headed to Jack's Card and Bingo night," he lied. "Oh, and Endea stopped by and made a pot of stew earlier. It's on the stove. Fresh pan of cornbread in the oven. Said she made it just the way you like it."
She wished Endea, his most recent girlfriend, would realize that her father would never marry again.
Everyone in town seemed to know that, except women like Endea.
They did everything, including befriending his children to get in Lucky's good graces, but his heart still belonged to his late wife.
At least, this time, he'd picked a woman who knew how to cook.
"Thanks, Luck."
"Get some rest, honey." He tapped on the door twice, indicating he was about to head on out. "Chevy has fresh water and food. I'll let him inside. He's been yapping and crying for you since we came home."
Chevy wasn't much of a protector, not yet anyway, but he did make for great company.
"Oh, there he is. Creed must have let him in."
When he barked, followed by his paws scratching at the bathroom door, her father sent him to his doggy bed that she had set up in her room.
"I love you, Star."
"Love you, too," she whispered, roughly swiping tears from each cheek. She just wasn't sure if she liked him.
He was playing with the devil, the same one she felt had come and taken her mother away, because in her heart, God could never be that cruel. If Lucky or Creed died, even in death, she would never forgive them.