Whiskey Gray - Crazy Kind of Beautiful

a novel

crazy kind

of beautiful

Whiskey Gray

Happy Tag Press

Oceano, California

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the authors imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

Copyright 2020 by Whiskey Gray

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.

Layout and design by Asya Blue

Editing by Ginny Glass and Book Helpline

Printed in the United States of America

First Printing, 2020

Library of Congress Control Number: 2020923080

ISBN 978-1-7354522-0-3 (pbk)

ISBN 978-1-7354522-1-0 (ebook)

www.whiskeygray.com

Writing a book is equal parts joy and madness with countless laughs and tears thrown in. There would be no book had it not been for my amazing husband and best friend, Paul. From giving countless pep talks to providing feedback on sloppy drafts, he was always there to hold my hand. He is my rock!

Im forever grateful to my grandmother, Vera, who instilled the gift of storytelling into me at a young age. She believed in me from day one, and it is because of her influence that I am who I am today.

Chapter One

Tohbi Springs, Tennessee

Saturday, November 16, 2019

I m going to have to take the battery out to get to it, I informed Hank as I let out an exhausted sigh. The late November wind nipped at my fingers as I maneuvered the wrench around the bolts that held the battery in place. Ever since Bobby had decided to fall back into the bottle, I had inherited his workload. My day had started at 7:00 a.m. with a transmission rebuild on a pesky Mini Cooper, and now that it was almost 4:00 p.m., I was finally taking a look at our most prized possession: a 1997 Jeep Cherokee. Sure, her red paint was faded, and she was by no means the fastest, most stylish, or even the most reliable. But she was paid for.

Hank fiddled with his long, light-brown hair. Think youll have her running by tonight?

You still planning on going on that date? I didnt look my brother in the eyes.

I promised Jayla Id take her to her cousins birthday party. He rocked from side to side. Ive already bailed on two dates because of Dad. Think I kind of have to at this point.

I let out a grunt before hoisting the battery. It wasnt that I minded working on the Jeep for Hank. Heck, ever since our ex-mother decided to bail five years earlier, my life revolved around taking care of my six siblings. It wasnt that Hank didnt help, because he did. It wasnt even that I minded him having some time to himself to have a life. At least, one of us should. What I minded was who he was planning to go see.

Come on, what do you have against Jayla?

What dont I have against Jayla ? I thought as I took the old alternator out.

I couldnt fault Hank for finding Jayla Washington attractive. As the fastest, most dedicated runner on the track team, she was fit, shapely, and blessed with flawless ebony skin to go with it. Even if I wanted to accuse Jayla of being just a pretty face, I wouldnt get anyone to agree with me. The girl had a 4.0, and even without the track scholarship she was sure to get, she was going places. The problem, though, was that Jayla didnt see the exceptional person she already was and looked to guys for the affirmation she was desperately searching for. When she attached herself to a guy, she didnt let go until she had gotten everything she wanted from the relationship. Then she discarded them. In short, she was a man-eater. Hank had only just turned seventeen and was already in deep.

Have your fun, I answered finally. Just remember two things. I counted on my fingers. Jayla seems pretty desperate to hold on to you. We dont need any more mouths around here to feed.

Madi, I might not have your brains, but Im smart enough to take precautions, Hank retorted as he leaned down to watch what I was doing.

Good to know. I stepped back to pick up the new alternator that had drained us of grocery money for the week. Just trying to look out for youthats all.

I had barely gotten the words out of my mouth when the low rumble of an engine caught our attention. I turned my head to see a white and blue Tohbi Springs Police Department patroller turning down our drive. I put down the alternator and quickly began cleaning off my hands.

Austin or Bobby? I muttered without looking at Hank.

Damn, what now? Hank growled as he walked toward the car.

The patrol car came to a stop on our gravel driveway a few feet away and Sergeant Nate Grayson stepped out to greet us with his usual aw-shucks demeanor. At thirty-seven, Nate still had boyish good looks and a trim figure.

Bobbys had too many again, Nate greeted us as he opened the back drivers-side door where Bobby slumped nearly passed out.

Didnt even realize he was gone. Hank reached to help Nate steady Bobby as he pulled him out of the car. Ive got him.

Sorry, Madi, Bobby slurred as Hank helped him past me.

Sleep it off, I said with less sympathy than I intended.

Hank walked Bobby through the worn path in the dead grass we called a yard, and steadied him up the steps of the decaying camper which sat in the back corner of the property. I watched wondering how Id missed Bobby slipping out. It must have been around the time I fixed the kids lunches, and so Bobby had probably been drinking for the past four hours.

Luckily, Nate had served with Bobby during his first tour. While Nate managed to come home mostly intac t and ready to move on with his life, Bobby found himself trapped in a hell I would never understand. The only thing that got Bobby over his first tour was returning for a second and then a third. Unfortunately, each tour took a little more of the good, solid man that Bobby had been. We had watched as my father picked up Bobbys remaining pieces over and over again until Dad got his cancer diagnosis. Now Bobby had become nothing but a drunk shell of a man.

Sorry, Nate. My tone softened as I continued to work on cleaning my hands. Ive been busy. Didnt even realize he had slipped out.

Stop. Its not your fault, Nate offered. Bobby needs helpmore help than you or I can give him.

Dad will talk to him again. Dont know what good itll do, though. I sighed as I tossed the towel I had been using to clean my hands into the toolbox.

Speaking of your dad, is he feeling up for a visit? Nate leaned against his patrol car in a manner that told me he wasnt planning on leaving anytime soon.

Sorry, no, I replied as Hank rejoined us by the Jeep. Hes been in bed all day and doesnt seem to be going anywhere anytime soon.

Whats up? Hank reached to shake Nates hand.

Hank Rigby, is it just me or do you grow taller every time I see you? Nate grinned as he accepted Hanks hand to shake. What are you up to now?

Six threeand a half. Hank grinned back sheepishly, trying not to appear immodest.

I know Coach T has to be pumped about having you back next year. You ve been killing it out there this yearand they had you playing both sides of the ball!