Mississippi Blues by D'Ann Lindun

vein in his forehead picked up tempo. He tapped his fingers on the car door. “She’s too old for you.”
    â€œI have to disagree. I’m twenty-three, Summer’s only four years older.” Trey kept his tone respectful, but he wasn’t going to bend. Didn’t matter that Summer didn’t want anything to do with him. Not the point. “We’re both adults, able to make our own choices.”
    â€œNothing good can come from this. When Hill is caught and sent back to Angola, all the old anger is going to resurface. You might think you can strike up your old friendship. Hell, I know how you felt about that girl. Maybe you even thought you were in love with her, but you can’t erase that you were the one whose testimony sent her brother to prison. Do you think that’s just going to disappear because you wish it would?”
    â€œDid the talk stop when you sent me away?” Bitterness edged Trey’s voice.
    â€œI did what was best,” the Chief shot back, ignoring the question.
    â€œBest for who, sir? Me? Or you? What was best about being shipped halfway around the world to fight in wars no one cares about? I think that may not have been the best thing for me. But once I was out of sight, this whole mess could be put out of your mind.”
    Without warning, the Chief’s hand flashed out and grabbed Trey’s T-shirt, twisting it tight. “Boy, you might be a mite bigger than when you left, but I’m still your daddy. You do as you’re told. I have my reasons for what I do. I don’t have to explain them to you or anyone else. Now steer clear of that girl.”
    Trey twisted out of the Chief’s grasp. “No, sir. Not for you or anyone else.”

Chapter Four
    Being the Chief’s daughter was a pain in the ass.
    Lindy popped her gum and checked her look in the Jeep’s mirror one last time. Even a heavy layer of cheap makeup and pitch black hair couldn’t disguise the fact she wasn’t twenty-one. Although she carried a fake ID, it wasn’t any good in Juliet. Everyone knew who she was. Luckily, Jimmy Ray Hunt liked following rules as much as she did, and looked the other way when Lindy and her friends partied in his bar.
    She climbed out of the Jeep, tugged her skintight Lycra mini down over her hips and struggled on six-inch heels toward the door of Mugs-n-Jugs. Her life sure had changed in the last year. When she was little she had been the perfect child. Blue-eyed, blonde, sweet, polite. But the older she got, the more she resented all the boundaries placed on her. The Chief was the law, her mother the last word in Juliet’s society.
Lindy,
they lectured
, follow in our footsteps. Do all the right things. Be a lady. Take ballet, riding and art classes, and most important of all, keep your reputation spotless.
    Last year, when her mother began to slip away, Lindy quit going to dance, then art. She dyed her blonde hair pitch-black and threw away all her proper, oh-so-perfect clothes. Courtesy of the Salvation Army, she found an entire new wardrobe. Finally, she ditched all her Clinique and Estée Lauder products, and replaced them with the cheapest brands of black eyeliner and dark red lipstick Juliet’s drugstore had to offer.
    She took a breath and opened the door. Excitement buzzed through her. Anything could happen tonight. The bar was packed, she could barely see through the curtain of heavy black smoke. She inhaled the stench of cigarettes, booze, and too many sweaty bodies packed together. Heavy metal blasted her eardrums. A short, dark-haired girl standing near the bar spotted her and motioned wildly.
    Lindy fought her way through the crush of bodies until she reached her friend. “Hey, Candy. Guess what?”
    â€œWhat? You ready to fly? I’ve already hooked up with a guy who wants to party later.” Candy giggled. “He’s hot, too.”
    â€œGreat. Hey, I’ve to tell you something