Rachel's Rebellion (Moss Bayou) by GiGi Duvall

around
midnight.”
    “Any
collection plans, if he doesn’t pay?” Wylie sat casually in the lone chair on
the other side of his desk. His uniform of the day was a wild Hawaiian-style
shirt left unbuttoned over a white T-shirt and finished with a pair of jeans so
faded, they were almost the same color as the T-shirt. The wardrobe put with
his long, sandy brown hair, overgrown stubble and generally lazy appearance fit
in just right here at Bank Shots.
    “No cash
means his ass,” Denny finally answered. “Mullet, Deke and Wylie will join you
in your collection efforts. Mr. P wants Tyler Devlin to get a lesson but not
dead.”
    “I’ve got a
foot long piece of copper wiring wrapped in some black tape,” Mullet said with
a grin as he moved his three long bangs back across his balding head.
    “That’ll do
some damage,” Deke commented.
    “Good,”
Denny said. “I want damage. Let him take a while to mull things over while he’s
getting the money.”
    “I say this
whole deal is strange,” Deke mumbled.
    “What do you
mean?”
    “Denny,
Tyler Devlin went from party meth user to buying up quantities of heroin in a
New York minute. Seems strange.”
    “Deke’s
right,” Wylie hitched a thumb in Deke’s direction. “Does seem a bit strange.
Could he be doing some private dealing?”
    Denny looked
from Wylie to Deke and then he glanced in Mullet’s direction in time to catch
the shrug of his shoulders.
    “Mr. P wants
the Tyler Devlin problem dealt with. Maybe he will be forthcoming as you teach
him a lesson. See if he wants to make a confession.”
    “Well, just
call me Father Mullet.”
     
     
     
     

Chapter
Five
     
     
     
    Rachel knew
Phillip had seen her sending a quick text. She knew she wasn’t very good at
subterfuge but, being the friend he was, he said nothing and continued to
unpack the glassware. As she waited for a reply to her text, she unpacked the
next box waiting for attention. A casserole dish, two baking pans, some candles,
a curling iron, one towel, a shower curtain, and a couple of boxes of macaroni
and cheese found themselves sitting on the tiny countertop.
    “So who do
you think packed this box?” She turned toward Phillip and indicated the items
on the counter. “Tate or Abby?”
    Phillip
chuckled. “Well, I know it wasn’t your mother. Susan Emerson would not have
packed a box that way. Had to be a sibling.”
    “My money is
on Tate.” She laughed with Phillip.
    Instead of
moving to another box, she watched as Phillip returned his attention to the
last of the glassware. He had been a big help all afternoon. Now as Sunday was
heading into dusk, she felt the need to tell him once more what he meant to
her.
    “I can’t
thank you enough for all that you’re doing,” she told him.
    “Enough already,”
Phillip waved her off. “You’ve been thanking me daily for almost a month.”
    “I know this
is barging in on your own life.”
    “Right now,
helping a friend is just what I need,” he said quietly. “I need time to focus
on something other than my own heartbreak.”
    “I know the
breakup was painful, Phillip. I’m sorry for that.”
    “Rachel
Emerson if you apologize for something once more…”
    She raised
her hands in surrender. “Okay. Okay. I quit.” She watched him place a glass into
the cupboard. “I love you. You know that, right?”
    He looked
her way. “Yes, I know. I love you, back.” Turning quickly away, he said, “Heard
from Deke yet?”
    She smiled.
Maybe she was good at subterfuge. Referring to Gabriel as Deke seemed perfectly
normal. She hadn’t missed a beat.
    “Nothing
yet.”
    Once more he
faced her and gave her a look.
    “What’s the
look for?”
    She watched
Phillip watch her for another moment. Finally, he shrugged.
    “You’re in
love with him, Rachel.”
    Phillip’s
statement gave her an inner jolt. Was she? She wanted to say no but the word
yes tried to form.
    “Can we just
agree that I’m just exploring where this is