Total pages in book: 107
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100550 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 503(@200wpm)___ 402(@250wpm)___ 335(@300wpm)
Shit. Right. I slid my phone away. “Okay, I’ll—”
“I’ll do it!” Gracie volunteered. “After all, I had a better throwing arm than Brooks once upon a time.”
“Come on. We were like six and five then,” I scoffed.
“So you admit it!” Gracie winked. “Give me one of your extra Head Licker shirts. Mama, can you watch the girls?”
“Well, of course I can, but tradition says—”
“And Paul and I will handle the craft fair,” Ava said, grabbing Paul’s forearm as he came back to the table. “Paul is a genius with handicrafts.”
“How would you know—?” Mrs. Ivey began.
“Best balsa wood bridge construction at Surprise Lake Camp three years running,” Paul confirmed, wiggling his fingers. “I’m kind of a Renaissance man. And Brooks, the General can talk to you anytime before noon, in person or by phone, just let his assistant know. It’s a long drive—”
“But it’ll have to be in person,” I decided with a sigh. I had zero desire to drive two hours each way for this meeting, but that was the right way to do things, and what I wanted wasn’t important.
I changed into my suit and brushed my hair carefully under Payton’s watchful eye.
“You look nice, Uncle B,” she pronounced when I was finished and she led me back to the kitchen.
I hoped so. I was about to ask for a favor from a guy my boss was going to screw over by providing him with a sub-par campaign, unless I could figure out a way to fix that too.
One crisis at a time, Johnson.
“Payton’s right,” my mother said, looking me over critically. “You look terrific.”
“You’ll knock ’em dead, Big Daddy,” Paul said with a wink.
“I just wish…” Mama sighed. “Tradition states that the Head Licker—”
“Gets to decide what the right traditions are, Mrs. Johnson,” Ava piped up. “There’s more than one right way to do almost everything.”
I gave her a grateful smile. I wasn’t sure I believed her, but I liked that she’d said it.
“So, what were you saying earlier?” I demanded as I walked out with her and Paul. “About, um… Mal? And me not seeing the signs?”
“Hmm? Oh, that. Never mind. I’ll let it be a surprise,” Ava said.
“Thanks bunches. You know, he’s not replying to any of my texts. Is he upset, or…”
“I told you, he was sleeping. And if he’s not sleeping, he’s welding something in my dad’s barn and isn’t looking at his phone. It’s a bad habit of his. You know, I think I kinda like this new side of you, Mr. Perfect.” Ava’s grin took the sting out of her words… more or less. “It’s cute to see you worrying and overthinking.”
“Ava, I have never not overthought things.”
“Yes, but now you’re letting people see it, and you didn’t before. It’s cute.”
“Thanks again,” I said wryly. “You’re such a good friend.”
“I really am,” she singsonged. Then she threw me a wink. “I’ll prove it to you tonight. Now go do what you’ve gotta do. You’re taking Bellevue Road, right?”
“Is there another way to the highway?” I demanded. “Obviously.”
“Perfect!” she chirped.
I sighed as I climbed into my blazing hot car and headed through town and out toward the highway.
Maybe I could text Mal again. Or maybe I could call him.
Or maybe I should just leave well enough alone and play it cool.
Traffic slowed to a crawl in both directions once I turned onto Bellevue. At first I rolled my eyes, thinking only I could manage to get caught in a traffic jam in Licking Thicket, but then I noticed that the traffic was only slow in the area by the field where the Welcome to Licking Thicket sign usually stood.
I wondered what crazy sign solution my mom had finally come up with to cause this much of a stir. I couldn’t make out the sign from my angle, since it was hidden by trees, but judging by the way people hung out of their cars to take pictures, either my mom had way overdone the puff paint and glitter, or Amos Nutter’s alphabet cows had rearranged themselves to spell out something pornographic.
I sighed as the guilt from last night came rushing back. I should have taken the time to find a new sign, rather than spending my days chasing after Mal. I should have fixed this. Maybe then…
My thoughts flatlined the second the sign came into view. I jammed on the brakes and veered to the side of the road, ignoring all the people who honked at me. I stared at the sign in disbelief.
As it turned out, there wasn’t a single trace of glitter involved, and the sign wasn’t really a sign at all… it was a goddamn sculpture.
The background of the piece was a rectangle of corrugated metal—the kind found on every barn roof here in town. Its blue paint had long ago started to rust, giving it dimension and permanence. The words Welcome to Licking Thicket were spelled out in a bunch of old tools—everything from hoes to hammers, barbecue tongs to marching band instruments, and even something that looked like the handle off a kids’ wagon—welded to the background. And below the words was a cow—a cow made of ten different kinds of metal spots and an old license plate, with a familiar triangular tractor seat for a head and a kick bar forming its horns, a wire brush for a tail, and a milker for its udders.