The Wettest County in the World ((for deadrum))

[alittlehinky]

Up until Jack got ambitions, most of the Bondurant brothers' product was sold within the county, delivered direct to neighbors or driven as far as Rocky Mount to be sold to connections there. If someone wanted to take it as far as the big city, they were welcome to do it themselves, but they'd have to come to Franklin to get started. Not so, now. The real money has always been in the selling of the product up north, in New York, in Chicago, in Baltimore. Forrest would have rather kept close to home and earned his money without getting mixed up with the big-time distributors, the Floyd Banners and Al Capones of the world, but Jack...well, Jack's feelings on the matter are different.

There are limits to what his ambitions can accomplish for him, of course. He's not crossing state lines, but county borders are nothing. Not in a souped-up engine designed and kept in working order by Cricket (but they don't try to run it on moonshine, not when there are better options). And now, they'll go to Lynchburg as a matter of course to sell, or even further up, to Charlottesville, if the price is right.

It's Jack that fancies himself the glamorous bootlegger, and he likes to drive when the crates are full. Cricket doesn't begrudge him that, though he's perfectly happy to harass him about the airs he's putting on, in private. He's content to let Jack be the spokesman of the operation, and he stands back by the car while he haggles. Cricket's an easy figure to miss and an even easier one to underestimate, even with a rifle held loosely in his hands. It's not hard to see the braces on his legs, and there's something about his face and body language that speaks of a young man all too used to the thin end of the stick. He's always polite, though, soft-spoken and calm unless there are weapons drawn, and when an exchange of goods for cash seems to be safely underway without treachery on either side, he's willing to chat.

He'd be hard-pressed to call himself an expert on human nature or body language, but on this particular occasion, out of the folks they're meeting up with, Jasper strikes him as not very different from himself and Jack. Someone come from the working class, just trying to get by, like you do. And he seems friendly. So when there's a pause in loading and unloading, he gets a thermos out of the front seat of his car and tilts it toward the other man. "Fuckin' cold out tonight. You want coffee? Might still be warm."

Comments

[deadrum]

Jasper had gone into this looking not just for an adventure, but to find a bigger place in something new and exciting, within arm's reach rather than way off the coast -- and so far he hasn't found himself disappointed.

In the grand scheme of things, runs like these aren't all that different from what he'd been doing: taking booze from supplier to buyer, avoiding the law, and picking up his cut. But rather than manning a schooner the same way he'd been doing since he was big enough to pull his weight - a schooner, familiar and able to clip away out of American waters at the first sign of trouble - he's driving long, bumpy roads sandwiched between stretches of trees and farmland, and at this point, with a couple of local runs under his belt, he's pretty sure he's spent more time in a car here than he has in his entire life. And rather than working alongside people he's known most of his barely-more-than-twenty years, he's with a couple of the New York guys: a broad, surly fella from Jersey named Ray, and a Great War vet named Guy that Jasper's convinced also snuck in from Canada - from out West, is his guess - but he won't say either way. And that's another thing adding to the brand-new experience: he's not exactly here legally, one of a good few less-than-legal things on the list thus far, and the threat of what might happen if he gets arrested - or even just scrutinized too closely, if he's not just shot first - is like a fire in his veins.

This trip down to Virginia is the furthest he's ever gone. He's had more than a few looks at the East Coast map in the pocket atlas he'd found dropped at Grand Central a few weeks ago, tracing the coastline from their general location all the way back up to the arse-end of Nova Scotia sticking out by Maine, trying to wrap his head around it all as they get further and further away. Guy even tells him to knock it off, at one point, thinking he's checking the route again, which apparently makes him antsy; Charlottesville ain't moved in the last thirty minutes, and they've still got hours to go.

Just as planned, by the time they're there to make the pickup, it's dark -- and it's Jesus cold. Ray is taking care of the actual business with Jack, while Jasper gets a handle on the culture shock of talking to a couple real-deal Virginian moonshiners, watching the proceedings with interest -- and jumping to action with a good-natured joke or two once the booze needs to be moved. At one point, though, something goes a little awry with one of the hidey-hole compartments in the car, and with only enough room for Guy to try and sort it out, Jasper finds himself sidelined with the braces guy, who's been just sort of a background element so far.

Not so, now, though. Jasper's eyebrows raise in surprise and a little relief at the offer of coffee - he's no baby, mind; he's done his fair share of hauling cod in the cold, the real cold, but it's not like he's dressed for fishing at the moment, is he - and he pulls a hand out from under his arms to take it.

"Coffee? You're fuckin' right I do," he says, and takes it gratefully, giving it a little cheers-lift Cricket's way before he twists the cap off. Jasper gives it a quick sniff, but doesn't bother even waiting for it to register, just downs a gulp -- it's lukewarm, and bitter, but Christ, it's something.

"Shit. Thanks, bud." He hands it back and stuffs his chilly hands back under his arms, giving his companion a quick once-over. "Was I hearin' him right? He was callin' you Cricket?" He grins. It just seems to suit, is all. Mostly, he just wants to make sure he's actually got his name.