Chapter 20

Jerry Donavan worked and laid low the week follow the roofing nail incident. He used the time to plan his next move. Jerry spent some time watching the mine compound but more time watching Lola. His grandfather was still down in Charleston when Jerry went to bed Wednesday night. Lola was off Wednesdays and Sundays so those were the main days Hatchett saw her. The whole relationship was a gigantic mystery to Jerry. What the pretty young dancer saw in his grandfather baffled the hell out of him. And what was his Papa doing with a woman thirty years younger than himself?

Jerry was wondering if his grandfather was home as he fixed coffee Thursday morning. He was pouring a cup at the stove when he heard footsteps coming into the kitchen.

“I was wondering if you were home. Want coffee?” Jerry asked without turning around.

“Sure,” A mellow female voice answered, “I’d love a cup.”

Jerry spun around so fast he sloshed hot coffee on his hand. Lola was standing at the kitchen table wearing one of his grandfather’s rib knit wife-beater t-shirts that barely covered her ass, and a smile. Lola was a tall girl, and her legs looked a mile long sticking out the bottom of the shirt. Her hair was tousled, and she wasn’t wearing any make up, yet she looked sexy as hell.

Jerry put his cup down next to the sink and put his scalded hand under the cold water. He turned back around as Lola laughed at his clumsiness.

“Where’s Papa?” Jerry asked.

“He had a busy night, so I let him sleep,” Lola explained.

Jerry grunted at the excess information and pointed to the coffee pot.

“Help yourself, milks in the fridge, and the sugar bowl is on the table,” he said.

“Thank you,” Lola said.

Then she opened the fridge and bent over to retrieve the carton of milk. The t-shirt rose in the back and exposed most of her butt, and when she turned around the cold air had turned her nipples into large caliber bullets. Jerry shook his head and fixed himself a couple of bologna sandwiches for lunch. Lola gave him a little finger wave as he went out the door. Jerry suddenly understood what his grandfather saw in her. He still didn’t know what she saw in his grandfather, though, because he wasn’t rich, young, or very handsome. But whatever it was, it must have been real because Jerry left the evidence sitting at the kitchen table.

When Jerry arrived home, he was surprised to find Lola puttering around the kitchen making spaghetti and meat sauce. Lola was wearing a pair of tight jeans and one of his grandfather’s long sleeved white shirts. Her face was freshly scrubbed, she was bare foot, and her hair was in a pony tail. She looked sweet and wholesome. His grandfather was sitting at the kitchen table working the crossword puzzle from yesterday’s Charleston Gazette. It was an oddly domestic scene.

Lola and his grandfather both looked toward him when he walked through the screened door.

“Go wash up, dinner will be on the table in ten minutes,” Lola said, and she sounded like his mother.

Jerry looked at his grandfather with arched eyebrows.

“Lola likes it here. She called in sick so she could stay another night,” Hatchett explained.

That was fine with Jerry, especially after he tasted her spaghetti. She even made garlic toast in the oven and brewed sweet tea. Lola sat next to his grandfather and fussed over him. It was both sweet and disturbing.

Friday morning was a repeat of Thursday except Lola and Hatchett were up and dressed when Jerry awoke.

“Lola has to work at the pawn shop for part of today and tomorrow because George has some kind of medical procedure,” Hatchett explained.

When Jerry returned home from work on Friday, his grandfather was dressed to go out.

“What’s up, Papa?” Jerry asked.

“Change your clothes, boyo, and I’ll treat you a steak at that place over in Summerton,” Hatchett replied.

On the way to Summerton, they passed the Seven-Eleven, and pulling into the parking lot were two fancy choppers that came from the opposite direction. One of the motorcycles belonged to Jeter the ringleader of the group who beat him in that very spot. He related that to his grandfather as they passed by. Hatchett grunted and made a U-turn. He drove behind the building, parked by the dumpster, and opened the driver’s door.

Jerry exited the Valiant also and both men hustled to the back of the car. Hatchett opened the trunk and pulled out the two bows he and Jerry had been practicing with and half a dozen steel tipped practice arrows. Hatchett closed the trunk and handed Jerry a bow and three arrows and led the way to the corner of the building.

“Ready for some target practice? Hatchett asked.

Jerry nodded affirmatively.

“Okay, you take the Orange one and I’ll take the green. See if you can put all three arrows in the gas tank,” Hatchett instructed.

“With pleasure,” Jerry said as he nocked an arrow and drew back the bow.

The practice arrows had a steel point but didn’t have barbs, so they pierced the tanks with no problem. All of Hatchett’s arrows stuck in the tanks but one of Jerry’s bounced off. The two men hustled back to the Valiant and drove away before Jeter and his accomplice left the store.

Tommy Jeter was laughing as he and Gary Hall pushed through the glass doors of the Seven-Eleven. He was laughing because he was carrying two six packs of Bud he didn’t pay for. The laugh died on his lips when he saw his Chopper with a couple of arrows stuck in his custom-made orange metal flake gas tank.

“What the fuck!” Jeter cursed.

Gas was dripping onto the hot straight pipes with an ominous hiss. Jeter popped open a beer and poured it on his pipes and Hall followed his lead. When he was sure his bike wasn’t about to explode, Jeter used the payphone outside the store to call the Club House at the mine.

“Hey, this is Jeter. Someone sabotaged me and Hall’s machines. Send someone to get us, we’re at the Seven-Eleven.”

It took forty-five minutes for the van to arrive. When Robustelli stepped out of the van, Jeter was talking to Deputy Griggs. Jeter’s ranting and raving scared the store clerk enough that he called the sheriff.

“Hey, Sal,” Griggs greeted the Chapter Commander, “damndest thing I’ve seen lately. Who uses a bow and arrow nowadays?”

Robustelli agreed and thought someone was sending them another message. Whoever shot up the bikes could have just as easily shot up the brothers.

While Deputy Griggs was trying to calm Jeter down, Jerry and his grandfather were enjoying large ribeye steaks with all the trimmings at the Summerton Steakhouse. They were both stuffed after demolishing a pound of ribeye each.

Jerry glanced at the bill when the waitress brought it to the table.

“I’ll take that,” Hatchett told the waitress.

“Can I help with it?” Jerry asked.

Hatchett flourished a fifty and said, “Nope, it’s Lola’s treat for your hospitality.”

“You know she probably got that money from some other man,” Jerry said.

Hatchett leaned forward, anger evident in his eyes.

“That doesn’t bother me and it’s none of your business, anyway,” Hatchett said with some heat in his voice.

Jerry held up his hands as a placating gesture.

“Sorry, Papa, you’re right, it isn’t. Still, I worry about you getting hurt by all this.”

Hatchett leaned back and grinned.

“You just saw how she treats me, if it stops tomorrow, I’ll still have some beautiful memories,” Hatchett said with a shrug.

It was Saturday night of the following week when Jerry got a chance to extract some additional revenge. And it was at the expense of Deputy Griggs. The opportunity came while Jerry was at his hide site keeping his eye on the mine compound.

It was after five in the evening and Jerry was about to call it a day when Griggs pulled up to the mine compound in his department vehicle and parked outside the chain-link fence. Griggs walked over to the tipple house greeting bikers as he passed them. He was in the tipple house for fifteen minutes and when he exited, he was in full biker regalia: Jeans, t-shirt, motorcycle boots and leather vest. Griggs walked over to the picnic area where his friends had a fire going and a keg tapped.

Jerry returned to his truck, but instead of leaving, he retrieved one of his old shirts and a book of matches. He snuck down the mountain taking advantage and vegetation and the darkness. He waited for an hour after full dark then sprinted across the road and ducked behind Griggs’ cruiser. He used his Buck Knife to cut three long strips off his shirt. He tied the strips into one long piece then started shoving it into the gas tank’s filler tube of the Plymouth Fury. When gasoline wicked up the cloth, Jerry struck a match and lit the end of the shirt.

Jerry was a hundred yards up the mountain when the Fury’s gas tank exploded, and the cruiser burst into flame. Jerry watched from his vantage point as Griggs and his biker buddies swarmed to the burning car. In a couple of minutes Robustelli came out of the mine manager’s office and took charge. In minutes a dozen armed bikers boiled out of the compound headed down Pitchfork Mine Road looking for culprits.

Jerry snuck up to his truck and rolled it down the backside of the mountain before starting it up and driving it home.

Cindy came to visit Jerry the Sunday after he blew up Griggs’ cruiser. The visit was planned because Jerry’s grandfather was spending the day with Lola to see a matinee performance of The Music Man. The play was being performed by The Kanawha Players amateur theater company. His grandfather left the house wearing the brand-new JC Penney suit Lola bought him. Jerry had to admit his Papa looked dapper in the suit.

As Hatchett left the house he said, “Don’t wait up for me. Lola said she was taking the price of the suit out in trade and who knows how long that will take.”

Cindy Rivers was on fire that afternoon and for once Jerry was able to keep up with her. Cindy took Jerry ‘around the world’ for his first time. Jerry had to admit to enjoying the experience, but he didn’t think he would live through a steady diet of it. Cindy insisted they shower together afterward. Jerry became a big fan of tandem showers when Cindy handed him the soap.

“Lather me up, Jerry, and don’t forget all the hard to reach places. I’m not through with you yet.” she said.

Showered and partially dressed, Jerry made them grilled cheese sandwiches and tomato soup. While they were eating Cindy told Jerry about Griggs’ version of what happened the night before.

“Griggs’ patrol car was destroyed when he was checking on the motorcycle club’s place up on the mountain. He was following up on the bow and arrow attack at the Seven-Eleven. The Sheriff is worried about a war breaking out between rival gangs,” she explained.

Jerry shrugged and pretended that it was all news to him, but he really liked the rival gang idea. He figured that was something that would divert attention away from him and his grandfather.

Life went on in Coker County. Jerry the patient scout/sniper and his grandfather the Cherokee hunter considered and dismissed different plans. In the end they decided that they were going to have to wait for the right opportunity and take advantage of it.

In the meanwhile, the two Jerichos went on with their lives. For Jericho Donavan that meant an occasional date with Lisa or Cindy. And of course, spending the time Ida Flood rationed him.

For Jericho Hatchett that meant spending time with Lola Goodwin. Lola was spending two nights a week at the house on Chaney Hollow Road and ‘Big Daddy’ Hatchett spent two nights a week in Charleston at the two-bedroom bungalow Lola and Tanya rented from George Zimmer.