Have No Shame Read Free

more than ever that Maggie were home just then. We’d take a walk to the river like we used to, just the two of us, climb up to the loft in the barn, and giggle until Mama called us inside. We’d do anything other than sittin’ around watchin’ Jimmy Lee blow smoke rings and think about startin’ trouble.
    Corky cleared his throat, callin’ my thoughts away from my sister. He looked up at me, thick tufts of dark hair bobbin’ like springs atop his head as he nodded. I bristled at the schemin’ look in his brown eyes. He smirked in that cocky way that was so familiar that it was almost borin’. With muscles that threatened to burst through every t-shirt he owned, one would think he’d be as abrasive as sandpaper, but he was the quiet type—‘til somethin’ or someone shook his reins. He came from a typical Forrest Town farm family. His father was a farmer, like mine, but unlike Daddy, who saw some value in education, Corky’s father believed his son’s sole purpose was to work the farm. Everyone in town knew that when Corky’s daddy grew too old to farm, he would take over. Corky accepted his lot in life with a sense of proud entitlement. He saw no need for schoolin’ when a job was so readily provided for him. I swear Corky was more machine than man. He worked from dawn ‘til dusk on the farm, and still had the energy to show up here smellin’ like DDT, or hay, or lumber, or whatever they happen to be plantin’ or harvestin’ at the time, and stir up trouble with Jimmy Lee.
    Corky took a long pull of his beer, eyein’ Jimmy Lee with a conspiratorial grin.
    I tugged Jimmy Lee’s arm again, hopin’ he’d choose a walk with me over trouble with Corky, but I knew I was no match for a willin’ participant in his devious shenanigans. Jimmy Lee shrugged me off and locked eyes with Corky. Tucked in the alley behind the General Store, trouble could be found fifty feet in any direction. I bent forward and peered around the side of the old, wooden buildin’. At ten o’clock at night, the streets were dark, but not too dark to notice the colored boys across the street walkin’ at a fast pace with their heads down, hands shoved deep in their pockets. I recognized one of the boys from Daddy’s farm. Please don’t let Jimmy Lee see them . It was a futile hope, but I hoped just the same.
    Jimmy Lee stretched. I craned my neck to look up at my handsome giant. Maggie called me Pixie. Although she and Jake both got Daddy’s genes when it came to height, I stopped growin’ at thirteen years old. While bein’ five foot two has minor advantages, like bein’ called a sweet nickname by my sister, I often felt like, and was treated as if, I were younger than my age.
    Jimmy Lee set his beer down on the ground and wiped his hands on his jeans. “What’re those cotton pickers doin’ in town this late?” He smirked, shootin’ a nod at Corky.
    “Jimmy Lee, don’t,” I pleaded, feelin’ kinda sick at the notion that he might go after those boys.
    “Don’t? Whaddaya mean, don’t? This is what we do.” He looked at Corky and nodded.
    “It’s just…” I turned away, then gathered the courage to say what was naggin’ to be said. “It’s just that, after findin’ Mr. Bingham’s body…it’s just not right, Jimmy Lee. Leave those boys alone.”
    Jimmy Lee narrowed his eyes, put his arms on either side of me, and leaned into me. He kissed my forehead and ran his finger along my chin. “You let me worry about keepin’ the streets safe, and I’ll let you worry about—” he laughed. “Heck, worry about somethin’ else, I don’t know.”
    Corky tossed his empty bottle into the grass and was on his feet, pumpin’ his fists. My heartbeat sped up.
    “Jimmy Lee, please, just let ‘em be,” I begged. When he didn’t react, I tried another tactic and batted my eyelashes, pulled him close, and whispered in his ear, “Let’s go somewhere, just you and me.” I hated myself for usin’ my body as a