T.A. sank back down in her chair. “That’s kind of hurtful.”
“And you telling me to my face that you would fuck my man isn’t?” Sex Piston scoffed at T.A.’s hurt expression.
“At least I’d take good care of your kids. You see Jenna doing that?”
“I’ll tell you what. You can have Stud when I’m dead. Okay?”
“All right. You work with all those chemicals; I’ll outlive you.”
“Killyama?”
“Yes?”
“When you move to Knoxville”— Sex Piston stood up angrily, her beer sloshing over the side of the mug as she picked it up—“and you will be moving … take T.A. with you.”
21
Train turned the blinker on, signaling the turn onto the street where Killyama’s mother lived. He had expected other houses on the road, not familiar with Jamestown as he was with Treepoint, but it was further out of town than what he had expected. No man’s land.
The house was a mile down from the turnoff, the road turning into gravel. He almost lost his struts on the first pothole.
“Son of a fucking bitch.”
Train had taken the back road to the Porters’ house many times to purchase pot from the brothers, but the one Killyama had directed him to made theirs look like the yellow brick road.
The next rut almost buried the truck in the mud. He had to saw the truck back and forth before he could find enough traction to free his tires.
Becoming aggravated, thinking Killyama had sent him to the boonies to make a fool out of him again, he was ready to turn around when he went over another rut that had his truck dipping so low he expected to see his bumper in his rearview mirror.
Turning a corner, he was searching for a place to turn around in the knee-length grass when he saw a trailer sitting on the side of the gravel road. He knew he was in the right place when he recognized the Escalade Killyama had been in when she had taken Sasha.
Train parked Cash’s borrowed truck beside the Escalade at the back of the house. Getting out, he saw Hammer and Jonas, shirtless and on the roof, nailing shingles down. Killyama moved into view from behind the house, wearing blue jeans tucked into work boots and a tank top with a bright red bandana tied around her throat. Her curly hair had been swept up on top of her head into a careless knot.
“I was beginning to think you chickened out of meeting my mother.”
“Nothing could have kept me away, not even what you called a road.” Train brushed a smudge of dirt off her cheek, letting his fingers linger before dropping his hand. Then he looked up at the two men on the roof. “Hey, Hammer, Jonas.”
The men didn’t stop hammering to greet him.
“That’s one of the chores we have to work on today. Come on inside and meet my mama.”
Train’s nerves went on high alert. He still had to get past Sex Piston and the rest of her friends. Plus, Hammer and Jonas were giving him the cold shoulder. The last thing he needed was another person keeping him from making headway with her.
Killyama casually held the screen door of the trailer open for him. He caught a glimpse of her anxious expression as he stepped inside.
“Mama, this is Train. He’s a friend of mine. He offered to come and help with the roof.”
“Hi, Train.” Killyama’s mother removed her hands from the sink, drying them on a dishtowel.
The woman who came over to hold his hand was so delicate he was afraid she would disappear like a whisper of smoke. He knew her age from Crash’s report, but she looked more like Killyama’s sister than her mother.
The only characteristic of her mother’s he could see they had in common was their hair color. Her nose and cheeks had a sprinkle of freckles, while Killyama’s complexion was flawless. Her eyes were brown, and she was so small Train thought she might need a stepladder just to shake his hand.
“Train, this is my mother … Peyton.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Peyton said. “We’ve already eaten, but I could fix you some breakfast if you’re hungry?”
“I already ate, but thank you.”
“I appreciate you offering to help Hammer and Jonas fix my roof. That last storm decided to take a chunk out of it.”
“I’m glad to help out,” Train said, releasing her hand.
“I’ll be mowing the yard, Mama. If you need us, just yell out.”
“I’m going to vacuum and get started on white washing the front porch before I make lunch.”
“Don’t bother; I promised to buy pizza when we finish.”
“Oh, I don’t mind.”
“Anything you fix would be fine.” Train smiled gently at the soft-spoken woman. She was dressed as if she were going to an afternoon tea, and not the housework she had described.
“I don’t want to disappoint Hammer and Jonas if they’re expecting pizza.” She stared at her daughter as if she didn’t know what to do without her say-so.