Chapter 7
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Holy shit! This is a hellhole.”
Jaxon couldn’t disagree with Huck’s observation.
Honky Tonk Heaven looked much worse in the light of day, than it had at night.
After finally getting the okay from the fire department and a building inspector to start renovations on the charred dancehall, Jaxon, Dawson, and Huck had spent the morning removing the boards from the side windows and doors.
Not that there were any windows left.
Either the fire department had busted out the panes of glass while they’d been trying to put out the fire or the combustion of the flames had knocked them out. All that was left were gaping holes that sunlight streamed through, revealing the extent of the fire damage.
The dancehall did look like a hole that you’d find in hell.
Everything was either cinders or charred beyond recognition.
The stage that had hosted country music greats from Hank Williams to Faith Hill was completely gone.
So was the mahogany bar Mama had Jaxon polish every night to a high shine.
The dance floor was covered in rubble, so Jaxon couldn’t see its condition.
But being that it had been solid oak, he figured it was burned or water-damaged beyond repair.
Suddenly, Tully’s words popped into his head.
Every young girl needs to feel graceful at least once in her life.
Jaxon didn’t know why those words had struck such a chord with him. Maybe because her enthusiasm had taken him by surprise. He couldn’t help wondering why such a goody two shoes would be so excited about Honky Tonk Heaven’s reopening.
Not just a goody two shoes, but also a deputy sheriff.
Rowdy bars were nothing but work for law officers.
Sheriff Gentry had been called out almost nightly to break up fights and help corral drunks.
Tully had to have seen how much extra work the bar had made for her beloved father.
She had to know how much extra work it would make for her.
Unless she had no idea what actually happened at a bar at night. But how could that be? She had to be around twenty-six years old. Certainly, she’d been in a bar. If not while living here in Promise Springs, when she had been away at college or while she was at the police academy.
Unless, she’d been too much of a goody-goody.
In which case, maybe she didn’t have a clue.
Maybe she thought country bars were where girls drank lemon drop martinis before they were whirled around the dance floor like graceful figure skaters.
Jaxon knew better.
He’d gotten to see firsthand the brawls, adultery, catfights, and drunken craziness as soon as he’d turned fourteen.
It hadn’t been legal for him to be in the bar during operating hours, but when his mama needed help, she didn’t care about legalities.
At fourteen, he’d started washing glasses in the back, taking out trash, and keeping toilet paper in the bathrooms. At sixteen, he cleared tables, ran errands, and restocked beer and liquor.
At seventeen, he was bouncing—which consisted of tossing rowdy drunks out, keeping country fans from rushing the stage if a famous singer showed up, and making sure no one had sex in the bathrooms. His brothers had done the same when they got old enough to be of any help.
Poppy was the only one Mama didn’t want around the bar.
Which probably explained why she didn’t hate the bar business as much as the rest of them.
And Jaxon hated it.
As he stood among the bar's ruins, he should feel some kind of loss. Some sadness. But he only felt pissed off that he was right back where he started.
Working at Honky Tonk Heaven.
Dawson must have felt the same way because after only a few seconds of looking around, he kicked a charred table leg out of his way and headed for the open doorway.
“Fuck this.”
Jaxon and Huck hurried after him. Jaxon to reason with him to stay . . . Huck to physically make him. As soon as they were outside, Huck dove on Dawson’s back and clung like a long-legged monkey.
“Oh, no, you don’t! You’re not quitting, Dawg.”
Dawson tried to break Huck’s chokehold. “You should talk about quitting, Huck. You never stick with anything. Now let go of me, you little shit.”
“Hell, no! If I let go of you, you’ll punch me.”
“Damn right, I will.”
“Then I’m not letting go.”
Dawson looked at Jaxon. “Do something!”
Jaxon shrugged. “Why would I do something? Huck’s right. You made a commitment, Dawson, and you need to see it through to the end.”
Dawson pointed a finger at the building. “We can’t turn that into a functioning bar in three months, Jax. It can’t be done. Now get off me, Huck, or I won’t just punch you. I’ll beat the shit out of you.”
“Nope.” Huck tightened his hold. “You’re not going—”
A faded red Jeep came sailing into the parking lot at a breakneck speed.
Thinking it might run them over, Jaxon grabbed his brothers to pull them out of the way.
But the Jeep came to a dust-spitting halt before it reached them.
The driver’s door flew open and a woman jumped out in a tight tank top and cut-off jean shorts so short that the white pockets hung beneath the tattered hems. With the curled brim of the Kubota trucker’s cap shading her face, it took Jaxon a moment to recognize her.
It didn’t take Huck any time at all.
“Pops!” He hopped off Dawson’s back and raced over to lift their little sister off her cowboy boots and swing her around.
But Poppy had never liked being mauled by her brothers.
She took off her hat and beat him over the head with it. “Put me down, you ingrate!” But once Huck set her on her feet, she gave him a big hug. “Huckleberry.” She drew back and crinkled her nose. “Ooo, you smell like a boy’s gym locker. And what’s that thing on your lip.”
“That, dear sister, is called a man-stache. And the scent is what real men smell like. You just need a bigger whiff to fully enjoy its aroma.” Huck lifted his arm and tried to ram his armpit in her face, but Poppy was too quick.
She ducked under it and then swatted him in the back of the head with her hat.
“Real men? Try stinky immature boys.” She gave him another swat before heading to Dawson. “If you smell as bad, Dawg, you’re not getting a hug.”
Dawson laughed. “You think I want a hug from a skinny little pipsqueak like you?” She giggled as he hooked an arm around her neck and gave her noogies on her head. She stopped giggling when her gaze shifted to Jaxon and all signs of happiness left her.
It about broke his heart.
At one time, Poppy had been his adoring baby sister who followed him around wherever he went and mimicked everything he did.
In turn, he had adored the hell out of her and protected and spoiled her.
No one messed with his little sister. And if she wanted something, he made sure she got it. He had bought her her first guitar.
The only time he’d ignored her pleas for something was when she’d pleaded with him to stay. She’d only been twelve when he’d left. Too young to understand why and too old to easily forgive.
While he’d worked on the oilrig, he had called, emailed, and texted her. No answer. He’d written her long letters and sent her funny cards, both stuffed with money. They were returned unopened. The only way he’d been able to keep track of her was through his brothers.
Now here she was all grown up and he couldn’t help the tears that burned his eyes and the regret that swelled in his chest.
And she wasn’t going to make it easy on him.
When she untangled herself from Dawson and walked over, there was no teasing twinkle in her blue eyes. No open arms. “So the prodigal son returns.”
“Hey, Pops. I’m glad you could make it.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not here for a family reunion.” She tugged her hat back on, pulling her long brown ponytail through the hole in the back. “I’m just here for the money.” She walked to the doorway of the bar and sucked in her breath. “Shiiit.”
Huck moved up behind her, tucking his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her head. A privilege Jaxon no longer had. “I know it looks bad, Pops, but, with your knowledge of bars, we can do it. I know we can. You’ve been in every bar and honky tonk in Texas.”
Poppy’s dream was to become a country singing star. And since she had a voice like an angel as far as Jaxon was concerned, he believed she could achieve it. Their inheritance would help. Something she seemed to realize.
She only stood staring at the gutted dancehall for a moment before she pulled out of Huck’s arms and turned to Dawson and Jaxon. “Then what are y’all standing around for? We got a lot of work to do. So let’s get—” Her gaze shifted and her eyes widen. “Well, hell.”
Jaxon turned and saw a sheriff’s SUV heading down the street toward them. If they had been another family, they wouldn’t have given it another thought.
But they were the Hennessys.
Chances of the sheriff’s vehicle turning into Honky Tonk Heaven’s parking lot were damn good.
He looked at his siblings. “Anyone want to tell me anything now?”
Huck held up his hands. “Not me. I haven’t done a thing . . . well, except for a little gambling the other night at Mickey’s garage. But everyone was gambling, Jax.”
“We’re not everyone, Huck! Other people can get away with things we can’t. You know that.”
“It might not be Huck the sheriff is interested in,” Dawson said.
Jaxon turned to him. “What did you do?”
“Look, the guy was being an asshole to his girlfriend so I just reminded him of how a gentleman should act. And I only roughed him up a little. Nothing to call the cops for.”
“Jesus.” Jaxon glanced at Poppy. “Anything you want to add?”
Poppy grinned. “Only the small mishap in the town square on the way here when I took a corner a little fast and ran over the flower shop’s sidewalk sign.
But Charlene has no business putting it that close to the curb.
And it was just a tiny bit of a sign with today’s flower specials. So no great loss.”