chapter 48
MOON PIE HATED doing anything but hunting on Sunday. He loved Chick-fil-A’s corporate policy, since 1946, of being closed for business on Sundays. This recipe for success had made such an impression on him that he had decided the Gold Mine would close on Sundays as well.
When he received the text from Tam, he knew he didn’t have a choice but to work that Sunday. At least I can watch the game Saturday without anyone bothering me, he thought.
Moon Pie had become a Tennessee Volunteer fan when he lived in Chattanooga with his grandparents. That was also where he picked up the nickname Moon Pie. His grandfather worked in the original Moon Pie bakery, and at a young age, Ethan was never seen without one of the snacks in his hands—thus the moniker.
At halftime Moon Pie called Levi to update him and talk about what he expected to happen on Sunday. He realized he wasn’t hanging around his trailer, as was his custom. “Where the hell are you?” Moon Pie asked, and then spit into a plastic bottle.
“I’m eatin’.” Levi had been expecting Moon Pie’s call.
“I hear lots of voices,” Moon Pie said as he logged on to Facebook with his new iPad.
“I’m downtown.”
“You with a girl?”
“Kinda,” Levi said as he smiled at his date.
“Who is she?”
“I ain’t tellin’.”
“White girl?”
“You’re funny, Moon. Do you need me?”
“No, we ain’t gonna make the exchange tonight. It’ll be tomorrow. You wanna go shinin’ tonight?”
“Nah, man,” Levi said, “I’m busy.”
“All right, then. Be ready in the mornin’. I don’t know what time yet, so be expectin’ my call.”
“Where you thinkin’ of doing the deal?”
“Shit!” Moon Pie said out loud. “I never have any friend requests.”
“What?”
“Facebook’s broke.”
“It ain’t broke, you just need a better picture. That photo looks like some perv’s mug shot, dude.”
“Commercial’s over. I gotta get back to the game,” Moon Pie said and then started to hang up.
“Whoa, wait! Where we meetin’ at?”
“Probably at one of the boat ramps. They’ll be pretty quiet till duck season opens. I’ll call you in the mornin’,” Moon Pie said authoritatively. Then he spat loudly and broke the connection.
Levi looked at his cell phone. He was glad he wasn’t at Moon Pie’s trailer watching ESPN. More than once, Moon Pie had thrown a beer bottle at his television when Tennessee lost. He smiled at the reprieve from Moon, looked at his date, and then asked, “How’d you like to go to the Rascal Flatts concert tonight?”
“You have tickets?” she asked enthusiastically.
“Nope, but I can get us some.”
“Yes! Yes! I’d loooove too! I loooove those guys! I know all their songs!”
“Great! Okay. Let’s get goin’, then.” Levi thrived on spontaneity.