“One more thing I gotta know...do any of your competitors also have this drug?”
"I don't believe so. And I wish I had never bought it, but in my business, there’s no return policy."
"Go ahead and bring it in, and make it quick," I said and held the back door to the shop open for him.
He carried in an 18-gallon storage bucket and my eyes said everything that I was thinking.
"Please tell me that is not full..."
“Sadly, yes. I flushed a little bit at the house and realized that with this volume, it could potentially seep out into the soil and get in our water supply.”
Most people on farms around Hazenberg used well water, and Reuben was one of them. He was also an idiot, so the fact that he thought about the potential contamination was commendable.
“This is a big job, Reuben. You’re going to have to pay and pay well for my help on this.”
“Oh, I understand, Drake. And I’ve already thought that through. Money is in the tote.”
I glanced inside to see plastic bag after plastic bag full of blood-red pills. Five fat stacks of bills were off to one side. I wasn't going to count it. And it didn't matter how much it was. It wasn't enough.
“It’s a good thing they are red,” I said, “and let’s both keep our fingers crossed that they don’t react to the acid I’m gonna put on them when I shove them in a bucket full of meat scraps.”
"I appreciate your help, Drake, as always," he said and patted my shoulder.
“I need to tell you something, Reuben,” I said and put the lid back on the tote, shoving it under the worktable in the storeroom so it wouldn’t look suspicious if someone dropped by unexpectedly. “This is going to be the last time I help with this sort of thing. I’ve started seeing somebody and I cannot drag her into this mess or risk her getting involved.”
“I understand.” His affirmation was simple, and I knew that he knew what I was doing for him was risky and a huge deal.
“And you’re still gonna owe me a favor one day when I come knocking.”
“Agreed,” he said and shook my hand.
“Hang on just a second before you go...” I went into the fridge room and grabbed a large pack of freshly cut ribeye steaks. “If anybody says anything, you were here because you wanted to surprise the Mrs. and grill out tonight. That’s the story I’ll stick with, as well.”
“You’re a smart man, Corbin. And I appreciate the steaks.”
I had to get my head in the game. It was not on the agenda for the upcoming week. But it was almost lunchtime and I had yet to hear from my girl. So I grabbed my phone to quickly send her a text and say hello.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Aggie
New employee orientation took up the whole morning and I hadn’t heard from Drake all day. That made me a little sad, but I figured he was enjoying his day off. Since our pool day and cookout, I discovered not only did he look sexy as hell lying out in the sun by the pool, he looked even sexier wearing just a red apron and swim trunks when he was grilling.
I looked forward to doing this again.
My editor had planned to take me on a working lunch on my first day to discuss my plans for the Dear Aggie column and help get me more acclimated to the way he ran a newsroom. So I patiently waited for his lunch hour to roll around while rearranging things at my new workstation and attempting to login to my computer.
Hey, Cutie. How’s your day so far? Drake must have known I was thinking about him to send me a text.
Kind of boring so far, usual first-day stuff. Waiting on my boss to take me to lunch, I replied.
Good. If he wasn't, I was going to come to get you. Shouldn't have to have lunch alone on your first day. Can we hang out tonight?
The thought of him wanting to be with me made me giddy.
I’d love that, I messaged him back.
Holler at me when you’re off and I’ll pick you up at your apartment.
I sent back a heart emoji and had a little extra pep in my step the rest of the day.
AFTER WHAT FELT LIKE forever getting the IT department to unlock my computer, and time enough for me to write a rough draft on paper, my first Dear Aggie column was ready to publish.
Dear Hazenberg,
Let me start by saying, HI! I can’t wait to get to know you and all the wonderful places in Hazenberg. While a traditional “Dear Abby” column in a newspaper would involve readers writing in for advice (and that’s most certainly okay, too), I hoped you would write to me about things I should discover around town. What secrets should I dive into? Who makes the best pot of coffee (friendly competition only, of course)? And things like where to go and who to meet.
Thank you for the already warm welcome! And I can't wait to make this town my home!
— New in Town
I signed it the same way a reader might sign when they wrote to the famous Dear Abby and also included my snail-mail information at the newspaper and my email, which I hoped people would take advantage of.
Mr. Stone, my editor, planned to run it in the Tuesday paper, in an effort to get some responses rolling sooner than later. He had plans to tell all his friends to start submitting.
I worried that people might write in for advice on things and I was not prepared for that. I had a few preemptive emails come in welcoming me to town and I had plans to use them for Wednesday's edition of the paper.
Despite being such a small town, they still printed papers six days a week, taking Monday off, so my days were going to be busy, not just answering advice columns.
Nancy Stefano was a reporter who sat near me and I chit-chatted with her during the day. Apparently, word had already gotten around that I had found love in Hazenberg.
“This may sound nosy, but it’s a small town and quite frankly we don’t have much else to do...so I’m just going to ask! Have you already been on a date with Drake Corbin?”
It was seriously a good thing that I wasn’t drinking anything at the time, because I would’ve spit it all over my computer, she caught me so off guard. I suppose my lack of response, a.k.a. silence, answered her question, but I was not going to answer her in words.
I had already fucked the guy more times than days I had been in town, so revealing that to my new work buddy might not get me the best reputation. Why wasn’t it 5 o’clock already?
Chapter Twenty-Four
Drake
I don’t actually kill animals, I’m just the butcher.
I’m sure some assume I get off on that sort of thing, but I really don’t. My grandpappy would hunt, but he always operated his shop the same way.
Same with getting rid of things. I don’t do that either, I just butcher.
But I have a compost guy who comes by on his way through from Knoxville and picks up a bin of waste for me about once a week. That’s how I like to get rid of it. But when he’s not around or I have something that needs to be disposed of elsewhere, it, unfortunately, goes to the dump.
I have bins that I’m able to seal, so by the time it potentially gets busted open at the landfill, what’s inside is already destroyed from the chemicals.
Is it legal? Probably not.
Do they question my methods? Not at all.
In fact, the garbage guys just empty my dumpster and go. They’ve never even said a word to me about it.