The Bourbon Thief

“What’s going on here?” Now Granddaddy was paying attention. He laid the newspaper on his lap in a neat heap of pages. In the overcast afternoon light he didn’t look much more than fifty years old, although he was well over sixty. He had a full head of hair and a face that reminded people of Lee Majors. Women called him the Six-Million-Dollar Man behind his back because they said that was probably how much money he kept in his wallet. Even sitting in his chair he looked big and strong and in control—the opposite of her twig-thin angry little mother.

“I caught your stable boy kissing my daughter,” her mother said.

“Levi? Kissing Tamara?”

“I asked him to, since it’s my birthday,” Tamara said quickly. “That’s all. Nothing else happened.”

“And this is worth my time?” Her grandfather addressed the question to her mother, not her.

“It was more than a kiss. That boy was all over her.”

“It was just a kiss,” Tamara said, yelling the words, overenunciating them like her mother was both slow and partially deaf.

“It was Levi Shelby, are you hearing me?” Her mother outyelled her. “Levi Shelby. I told you and told you not to have that boy around here. I told you and you didn’t listen and you still aren’t listening and you’re gonna pay a big price for not listening to me someday.”

Her granddaddy took a big old inhale and let out a big old exhale.

“I’m listening to you, Virginia.”

“So what are you going to do about it?”

“Nothing,” Tamara said. “There’s nothing either of you have to do about it. It’s my birthday. I asked Levi to kiss me. That’s all that happened.”

“Go to your room right this second,” her mother ordered.

“But—”

“Go on, baby,” Granddaddy said, waving his newspaper like he was shooing a dog from the room.

“Go.” Her mother pointed a long white finger tipped in a long red fingernail at the door. Tamara left. She shut the door behind her and trudged down the hall, but slowly, slow enough she could hear them still talking. Her mother said, “This is all your fault,” which was a classic Momma thing to say. How was Levi kissing her or her kissing Levi her grandfather’s fault?

Tamara went into her bedroom and sat on the bed, waiting and trying not to cry. She’d been given the only downstairs bedroom when they’d moved in and as a “treat” to her they’d had it painted pink, since that was a color sure to please a girl. It didn’t please her. It was Pepto-Bismol pink and it caused her more stomachaches than it cured.

Finally her bedroom door swung open and slammed shut. Her mother stood before her, hands on hips. Tamara stared at the floor.

“So...how long has this been going on?” she asked.

“What’s going on?”

“Answer me,” her mother said.

“Nothing’s going on. I told you, I asked Levi to kiss me because it’s my birthday. He did. That’s all.”

“Did he touch you?”

“Well, his lips touched me.”

“Did he touch you under your clothes?”

“No, Momma.” Tamara groaned and rolled her eyes. “We kissed. That’s all. I’m sixteen. Am I not allowed to kiss boys?”

“You aren’t allowed to do anything. Nothing. Nothing without my permission or your granddaddy’s.”

“Fine. Get Granddaddy in here. We’ll ask him if I’m allowed to kiss a boy on my birthday.”

“You can ask him about Levi Shelby, but you’re not gonna like his answer.”

Her mother stood with her arms crossed, her high-heeled brown leather boot tapping on the hardwood floor. Once, Virginia Maddox had been a real beauty. Tamara had seen the pictures. But she wore too much makeup and dyed her Farrah Fawcett hair until it was dry and cracking. Most days she looked well-put-together, but on days like this Tamara could see the seams showing.

“Tamara, I’m going to tell you something you’re not going to like to hear, but you better hear it.”

“What?”

“You have one role to play in this family,” she said. “Only one. Your uncle Eric is dead. And your daddy, Nash, is dead. You are the only Maddox left after your grandfather’s gone. I know you think this makes you special. And I know you think this means you can get away with murder if you feel like it. But it doesn’t. It means the opposite. It means you don’t get to do anything and everything you want to do. It means you have to fill your role because there’s no one else to do the job you need to do. And you better believe if you don’t shape up and grow up and do what your grandfather tells you to do, you will end up with nothing. I will not let you screw this up, not after all I’ve put up with.”

“I’m only sixteen. What am I supposed to do?”

“You know. You’ve always known.”

Tamara sighed. “I know. I have to get married. I have to have babies.” She knew this. She had known this for years now. Two years ago she wanted to get a Dorothy Hamill haircut and her mother had told her no way—girls who wanted husbands did not have short hair. “I have to keep Red Thread alive, blah blah blah.”

“Yes, you do. And you have no choice in the matter.”

“I don’t have a choice in any matter. You don’t give me a choice. Granddaddy doesn’t give me a choice. I might as well be in prison for all the choices I have.”

“You want a choice?”

“I’d love a choice,” Tamara said.

“Fine. Here’s your choice. You can pick between Kermit or Levi. How’s that for a choice?”

“What do you mean pick between them?”

“I mean, I’m going to fire Levi or I’m going to sell Kermit to the glue factory. So what’s it going to be?”

“You can’t do that. You can’t make me fire Levi or kill my horse. You can’t...” Tamara’s voice broke on the words.

“Oh, I can. I can and I will and not even your granddaddy will try to stop me. And you know what? It’s for your own good and you don’t even know it.”

“It’s not for my own good. It’s for your own good.”

“Pick, princess. You wanted a choice. I’m giving you a choice.”

“I’m not going to choose between Levi and Kermit. I will not.” Tamara stood up and crossed her arms over her chest. “I absolutely will not do that.”

“Both, then. Levi gets fired and I sell Kermit. Hell, maybe I’ll take your granddaddy’s revolver out of his desk and put that damn horse down right now.”

“Momma—” Tamara choked on her tears. She took a step forward, arms out, beseeching her mother to relent.