The BOOK of RENEE Ch. 06

"Damn, it sure is hot this morning." Randy Brown stood at the edge of the winding blacktop after walking a good three miles using backwoods paths and one extended road before making it to the muted stretch of steaming black graveled crossroad bordered on all sides by dense woods.

The lanky teen was a little apprehensive considering his late grandmother forbade him from traveling to the area because of its supposed history. Some of his cousins tried to visit the crossroad only to be apprehended by his uncle and beaten mercilessly with a knotted switch and razor strap by him and Randy's own father, now suffering from the effects of a double stroke in a home these days. Word around the campfire is that people came to the intersection to do shady things, on the weird side. There was talk and rumors of haints and other things that went bump in the night, but he didn't believe it.

It was enough that his granny believed it and wasn't shy about recounting the tales to whoever listened. The talk of wooded spirits running off with people were plentiful, but later in his teen years Randy got another version of the local legend involving this doe, which was actually half woman, half deer. Supposedly it lurked about these backwoods luring men away from their families never to be seen again in some cases. A lot of the guys at his school joked about men using that shit as an excuse to run away from their wives, but others said different.

"Aw shit, too many mosquitos this morning." He mumbled under his breath slapping his bicep killing the offending insect. Randy kicked himself for being in a hurry to get out to the road forgetting to slather alcohol over his exposed arms and legs. The eighteen-year-old wore a black homemade crop top and some matching basketball shorts with flip flops. The cheap sandals were the reason for his journey to the crossroads this early in the morning. Randy loved wearing crop tops to show off his defined abs.

He was a star running back in his last two years at the local high school but ended up benched because of his borderline failing academic record and penchant for ending up in the wrong place at the wrong time. The coach was forced to bench him even though it crippled the team and lost them a crucial playoff game. This also left him without a window for a possible scholarship leaving him to watch his teammates get drafted to various colleges while he struggled to get through summer school for a general equivalency diploma.

Randy was somewhat of a lay about around the house which was actually a rundown trailer. His family lived in abject poverty for generations, but made it work somehow until his father was found face down in a ditch. Later it was determined the man was murdered by a romantic rival that wasn't his portly mother. Randy was looked at as an economic savior in the family but became a pariah when he flamed out academically locking himself out of a better future for the time being.

Somehow his former coach finagled a try-out for some scouts from state. Randy was getting a second chance to be on top and found himself in those rarified waters of elevated respectability once again. His surrounding family members felt like he had it in the bag throwing a backyard party. During that party, Randy ran a game of football amongst neighborhood rivals, losing one of his sneakers after blowing by a jealous thuggo.

His shoe was promptly tossed into a neighbor's dog pen where it was torn to bits by the excited mutts. Today, he was going to do some handy work helping a neighborhood elder with the cleaning and clearing of a field for a few twenties for some decent sneakers. Still, he remarked on the specific instructions given by his mother and aunt, even down to the path leading to the crossroad. Granny was long dead now, but never would've allowed him to go.

"Ouch, damn there's a lot of these fuckers out today." He smacked another tiny annoyance to oblivion reaching into his back pocket for his cheap phone. It was a present from a former girlfriend intent on keeping tabs on his whereabouts up until they broke up when he cheated, igniting an epic parking lot brawl at the school. Randy glanced at the cracked face of his android, finding it glitching a bit.

"Damn, signals all messed up." He tried calling up one of his boys but got nothing in the way of a signal.

A car sped by at a clip earning his attention. Randy hopped across the ditch quickly, nearly being clipped by the rusty El Camino. Thoughts of his father briefly surfaced. People initially thought his death related to automobile homicide but found otherwise when deputy sheriffs from neighboring Maplewood scooped up the murderer. The guy thought he was being arrested for killing his rival, confessing everything and likely giving one of the officers a promotion. It was bittersweet for everyone.

"Huh? Oh, he's here already." Randy turned around finding the old vintage truck he as told to expect gathering himself as he hopped the ditch running up to the passenger side.

The door was locked.

The driver sat behind the large wheel staring straight ahead with his hands at the two and ten positions, unmoving. He wore a wide brimmed hat on his head with thick sunglasses covering his eyes and a bandanna about his neck. Other than that, this elderly man was dressed in a flannel shirt and coveralls.

"Mr. Wilson; hey can you uhm, open the door, sir. Oh yeah..." Randy remembered himself and the specific instructions about the eccentric old man familiar around these parts since his childhood. Randy couldn't remember a time when Mr. Wilson looked any different.

Randy hopped in the truck bed, finding a seat using one hand to balance himself as it started moving, albeit slowly at first. He was treated to a view of the old man's grayed over curled naps, glancing about at the surrounding woods. A lot of the trees had gone neglected overgrowing with their branches dipping low intruding out onto the blacktop road. There were no city services to speak of in this shanty town as Randy tried to enjoy the ride. He found the behavior of Mr. Wilson off-putting but stayed silent.

For as long as Randy could remember, Mr. Wilson had been a fixture around the small closeknit community drifting up and down its backroads in his vintage 1976 Ford F-100. He worked as a handyman when he could get work or hauled trash, but there was this unsaid, unaddressed malaise that seemed to radiate from him in open public.

Most of the residents used his services sparingly. Randy sat there riding in the truck bed recalling the times Mr. Wilson was seen drifting about town, sometimes ridiculed and mocked by its children. They used to call him a zombie, getting the comparison from the opening moments of George Romero's Night of the Living Dead which seemed to play on a loop during his younger days. There was a certain case to be made for Mr. Wilson's resemblance to the first zombie in that old movie which usually made kids bolt when he would appear in the park at the far end of town.

Some used to throw stones at him trying to get the embattled senior to chase them, but he never did. Randy heard that he used to be a tent preacher, but that was a long time lost. Now he was a hand for hire, and Randy his apprentice for an afternoon. Mr. Wilson made a sudden sharp left turn almost upending Randy as the truck crossed a dirt filled ditch onto a grown-over path. Things got bumpy and a little dicey as he tooled along the overgrown path at a decent clip ignoring randy holding on for dear life. There was this huge dip that nearly sent him over the side back first, if he weren't holding on.

"HEY!!" Randy shouted as the truck started to climb a grassy knoll full of tall reeds cutting a swath traveling as he stood up in the back finding a large unkempt fenced off field. Off in the distance Randy could see a small cabin on the far side as the truck slowed to an eventual stop. He was cursing himself for accepting the job as he noticed a mower off to the side in an already trimmed patch of grass.

"Aw shit, played myself." Randy mumbled as Mr. Wilson got out of the truck waiting mutely for Randy to join him. He jumped down finding the old man standing there, waiting.

"Uhm, are we doing this field?"

He knodded, but didn't do anything else seemingly waiting. Randy was at once befuddled, not knowing what to do off faced with a mute supervisor. He needed those sneakers.

"Mr. Wilson?" He didn't react, standing there stoically leaving Randy to ponder his next course of action.

Randy folded his arms considering a walk back but didn't want to go into the unfamiliar wooded path that led back to the nearby crossroads. He glanced back finding someone approaching from the far end of the field, a woman in this flimsy looking diaphanous white dress that caught the light breeze.

"Uhm..." Randy was struck by her appearance which while attractive, was marred by some light bruising and a barely perceptible shiner surrounding her right eye. The woman's slanted, lime green eyes were arresting on a narrow oval shaped face liberally sprinkled with freckles. His heart was thumping as she got closer, and it became apparent that she was nude underneath. The dress looked damp clinging to a thick bottom-heavy figure that made his manhood throb onsite. She offered a hand speaking first.

"You gonna mow my bush?"

"WHAT?!"

"I mean, are you gonna mow down this field for us?" Randy grimaced half smiling as he took her dainty hand softly shaking it.

"Uh, guess so but Mr. Wilson ain't said yet, uh?"

"Honey."

"Yeah." Randy found her fetching thinking her big shock of lush brownish-black hair complimented her oddly beautiful face. Her breasts were large and quite visible through the damp state of a hastily thrown on frock as she noticed the trajectory of his gaze.

"No, that's my name, boy; how old are you again?"

"Eighteen, why?"

She just smiled, eventually grinning as she sidestepped him to stand in front of Mr. Wilson giving Randy a glimpse of her bottom heavy, densely packed rear end in profile, no less. Honey lightly ran her hand along the old man's exposed sinewy forearm peering up into his impassive mute face before looking at Randy again.

"You know he ain't got no tongue, right?"

"OH!" Randy was shocked about to apologize to the old man, but Honey shushed him with a pointer finger pressed against his lips.

"He don't like to talk about it much; well, he can't cause he ain't got no tongue anyways, Randy. So, we just kind of do the talking for him every now and then. So, why don't you plant your tail on that mower and take care of this out here."

"I don't know if that mower has enough gas for this entire field." Randy interjected.

"Oh, you're a talker when we need a doer; Randy, just keep going until you run out of that there gas. Mr. Wilson is gonna pick some more up while he's out running us some errands. Don't think, just do, boy...okay?" It felt like he should've been offended, but he couldn't stop staring at her face.

"Uhm, sure Ms. Honey."

"Just Honey; they named me that cause of my skin even with all this mess of freckles all over it. Maybe my name should be Honey Pepper, huh Randy?"

"I uh, guess so." He was at a loss for words as she spoke not looking at him, but the mute elderly man in front of her.

"Well, get to it and if you need anything, come on over to that cabin over there." Honey pointed to the cabin off in the distance.

"Okay." Inside, Randy was tripping all over himself at the sight of this thick southern redbone who seemed to be a few years older than him, radiating a playful exuberance that was infectious.

"Well, get to it Randy; I'll let you stare at my booty all you want, later." She reached inside the driver's side window retrieving a pair of work gloves, lightly slapping them into his chest.

"Huh?!" His eyes bucked at the verbal confirmation that she knew what he was looking at. Honey laughed gregariously walking away with Mr. Wilson. Randy glanced down noticing their index fingers interlocked. His gaze drifted down finding a ridiculously huge butt loosely jiggling as she strolled a few away with the elderly caretaker.

"Hate to see you go, but love watching you leave." Randy whispered under his breath mounting the mower, pausing to put on the work gloves.

"AND I WANNA SEE YOU COMING RANDY!!" Honey shouted, her voice echoing across the unkempt field. She was a good fifteen feet away with Mr. Wilson as he stared in their direction, then started up the mower hoping to stifle the embarrassment plaguing his thoughts.

Randy glanced back finding Honey standing there holding both of Mr. Wilson's hands looking up into his face seeming to converse with the elderly man. This brought up all kinds of questions in his mind as he thought about all the times, he'd seen Mr. Wilson in the past and people's reactions to his presence in public. The man was a pariah bar none just going about his business whatever that was. Randy pushed the mower thinking about the sun kissed redbone wondering why he'd never seen her before.

The town was small enough despite its diminishing status over the years as a throughway for truckers and people just passing through. No one worth his salt was settling down here unless they'd hit rock bottom facing the dirt with a rocket engine on their back, full blast. More and more each year, it felt like a collection of decaying homes, gas stations, weigh stations and trailers instead of a town proper. Randy wanted out but couldn't see a future for himself outside of football. It was the only thing he was good at. He didn't care that his family was counting on him to raise their fortunes, he just wanted out.

"Huh...SHIT!!" Mr. Wilson's truck came barreling across the field headed directly at him with the mute handyman behind the wheel. Randy veered to the side as it passed almost clipping him. He hit the brakes watching that old Ford F-100 go down the hill and cross another brush hidden path onto the blacktop. The truck rocked and bounced again crossing the ditch before barreling out of sight from a distance. Randy sat there watching astride the mower wondering if the old man was put out, jealous.

Randy kept it up mowing the field in neat rows with a head full of images of Honey and the elderly handyman in various salacious states. He thought the old man lucky to have such a woman figuring he was probably packing a rod. Randy felt it was borderline gay to think such a thing but couldn't think of any other reason Honey would be with such a man. He didn't have any apparent wealth and was unable to communicate verbally. In his mind it had to be a sexual connection.

Half of the field was eventually done, but the rest was a veritable jungle that needed a team of men if it were to be brought under control. Randy tooled along cutting the grass thankful that he wasn't using a push mower when something suddenly caught in the blades stopping his progress out of the blue. He switched off the machine dismounting. Randy was obliged to get on his knees to clear the blades, finding some tattered material caught there. It took some effort to pull the garment free, but a good portion of it remained caught up in the blades. Randy stood up with the material between his fingers.

"A dress?" Randy stared at the shredded material noticing some splotches of crimson that piqued his curiosity. He sniffed the material whipping his head backwards from the stringent salty smell of concentrated perspiration infused in the dirt encrusted material. He tried the mower a few times but found it wouldn't turn on. Randy was scared he would be blamed for breaking the machine, going through the five stages of grief before looking off across the open field towards the cabin.

Honey was sitting there on the front porch of the cabin.

"Might as well get it out of the way; aw shit I'm fucked." Randy wiped his damp brow with his forearm, then started walking over to the cabin taking his time. He was trying to figure out how to frame things regarding the mower, scared he would be excoriated by Honey when he looked up again slowing to a stop, taken aback. Randy was halfway there suddenly realizing this wasn't Honey sitting there in a rocking chair on the front porch of the cabin.

Another woman sat there staring back at him. Her skin was extremely pale, almost catching the morning sunlight in a reflective manner. Even from a distance, she was striking with a staggering beauty that made him reticent to get any closer. Making things even more strange were the exotic features on her alabaster skin and the long shoulder length dark tresses framing her symmetrical face. From a distance he could see her from the chest up. She was wearing a white dress that blended into her skin tone.

"COME HERE!!" She shouted, sounding annoyed at being stared at, startling Randy out of his stupor.

He walked quickly to the fence bordering the adjacent property with a sandy gravel road between him and the front of the cabin. There was a Prius parked in front of it which obscured the rest of the woman's body from the bust down as Randy stopped propping a leg up on the wire fence, arms draped over the top. He couldn't explain the intimidation he felt looking at the scowl on her beautiful face wondering if perhaps this woman were Asian. Randy wiped the sweat out of his eyes again, blinking.

"Good morning, ma'am." He tried to sound casual, but her expression didn't change.

"I said, come here!" She ordered through gritted teeth looking as if she wanted to pounce on him for simply looking at her face. He looked at the tattered remnants of the shredded dress in his hands wondering if it belonged to this woman.

"Uh, okay ma'am." The eighteen-year-old jock didn't know what to expect but hopped the fence, almost thinking of hiding the dress behind his back as he walked to the opposite side of the parked car. This woman's slanted eyes were little more than slits and he figured she was upset and angry visibly seething as she stared back at his face, impassively.

"Well?"

"Uhm, well what?"

"What do you think; you're closer so now you can see my tits, too. How's that working out for you, nigga?" Randy was shocked at the authoritative sound of her voice feeling like a kid under her piercing gaze as she took stock of him visually with a disparaging smug look on her exotic face.

"UH, I WASN'T LOOKING!!"

"Oh, so now you're gonna lie to my face, right?"

"Look I..."

"No, you look, bruh; if you're gonna stand there and perv on me, might as well get your money's worth. What, you gonna tell me you were admiring the architecture of this fucking starter cabin, huh? Hey nigga, find the NUTS to be a real MAN and clutch your fucking pearls! Admit you were checking me out and stop pissing on my dick."

"WHAT?!"

"Are you dumb?"

"No, well I..." Randy was stammering under the verbal barrage from this woman who was a once in a lifetime beauty in his opinion.

"Come on bruh it's okay to admit you were out there jerking it; I'm not new to that shit, so I thought you would appreciate a closer view! Damn, I get so tired of this shit with you niggas; can't even come out here to the sticks without being objectified by you braindead okey doke hillbillies! Want me to pop my tits out for you, bruh?" There was no doubt this was a black woman as Randy weathered the storm still unable to look away from her angry face.

"...ma'am."

"MA'AM?!! DO I LOOK LIKE AN OLD LADY TO YOU?!! Are you kidding me; are you playing in my fucking face, fool?!! ARE YOU DUMB?!! RETARDED?!! Nigga, you lucky I ain't got my strap; you'd definitely be taking two to the kneecaps before I stomped you out. You ain't gotta lie about shit, just admit it!"

"FUCK LADY, THE MOWER STALLED AFTER I RAN OVER THIS!!" Randy heard enough holding up the tattered dress in one hand high above his head.