Fall Line. Joe Samuel Starnes

I’ve seen.”

      “Pink and white? Sounds like a little girl’s car to me.”

      “Nope. It’s a cool ride. It has this green glass roof that lets the sun in.”

      “That old man’s a fool. He’s just showing his ass with that car.”

      “Aw, Elmer. It ain’t like that. Aubrey just likes to have some fun, that’s all.”

      Elmer took a long sip of coffee and turned around and looked at the front door before swiveling back to Lloyd’s gaze.

      “I hadn’t seen you around in a while, son. You been working?”

      “Every day. Out in the field.”

      “How’s that going?”

      “It’s all right.”

      “Is today your last day?”

      “Reckon so.”

      “What, uh . . . what you got planned?”

      “Nothing, right now. Something’ll come along.”

      “I hear Callaway is hiring.”

      “I ain’t gonna be a linthead, Lloyd.”

      “It pays pretty good. Pretty damn good. You oughta think about it.”

      Elmer said nothing.

      “If you don’t want to do that, you know Otey always needs help at the sawmill.”

      “I sure as hell don’t want no part of that.”

      Lloyd looked at Elmer and sighed.

      “Well . . . Elmer, son . . . what you gonna do? Ain’t nothing else ’round here. Lest you want to go back to school.”

      “Naw. Eleven years was enough.”

      Elmer checked his watch, avoided Lloyd’s eyes.

      “Son, you got to do something.”

      Elmer shrugged and moved his lips like he was going to speak but stayed quiet. He set the teaspoon down and looked at the menu. He knew what he wanted to order but studied the options anyway.

      Lloyd sat up straight and leaned forward over the table.

      “I warned you—did I not?—that that prison farm woman was trouble. You and she can say it was love, but the law says otherwise.”

      “I ain’t the one said it was love.”

      “Well, son, I didn’t think it was neither. I can’t believe they didn’t make me fire you the second time, much less the first. It ain’t like the good old days when I was a boy. Them days is gone. A man can’t get away with nothin’ no more.”

      His uncle exhaled a long slow breath and sat back. “I know you’ve had a hard time of it, son.”

      Elmer looked straight into Lloyd’s fixed stare.

      “You all right?” Lloyd asked. “Is it bothering you?”

      “I’m fine, Lloyd. I don’t never think about it.”

      “You’d let me know, if things get to troubling you, wouldn’t you?”

      Elmer averted his eyes but nodded yes.

      The waitress stopped by and they ordered. Elmer asked for biscuits and gravy, sausage, and grits, and the sheriff chose country ham, scrambled eggs, grits, and biscuits. She turned and the sheriff watched her go back down the aisle and behind the counter.

      He winked at Elmer. “I think she’s looking good, don’t you? Putting on a little weight.”

      Elmer nodded and fingered the cigarettes in his pocket but decided to wait to smoke until after he ate.

      “You ever hear from Sherry?”

      “Nope,” Elmer said. “Not in a few years.”

      “Damn.”

      Elmer turned to look back to the counter and the griddle behind to see if their food might be coming out.

      Lloyd asked, “You want me to try to fix you up with one of these young gals I know down in Macon? They’ll be a lot of women in town today for the barbecue . . . and the party at Coach Hilliard’s.”

      Elmer shook his head no. He finished off the last of his coffee and turned and looked down the aisle, gesturing to the waitress with his cup. She raised one finger to indicate she’d be there in a minute.

      Elmer then saw State Senator Aubrey Terrell walk in the front door. Terrell was tall and had a high silver shock of hair parted on the side above his dark horn-rimmed glasses. He wore a dark blue suit with a bright red tie. He started shaking hands with everyone, working his way through the tables and down the counter. He walked stiffly like he wore a truss. His voice was smooth and slow as he complimented the women on how good they looked and asked the men how they were doing, telling them he was glad to see them and that they’d soon have a lake to go fishing and water skiing if they so desired, not to mention cheap electricity.

      Elmer turned back around and stared into the sugary bottom of his cup. The sheriff was watching Terrell work his way down the aisle. Elmer could hear the senator having a discussion with the judge three booths away, something about valuable lakefront lots.

      He lost track of his eavesdropping when the waitress set their plates and a cold butter dish on their table and refilled their coffees. Elmer cut a chunk of butter and slathered it on his grits, mashing it with his fork to melt it more quickly. The sheriff, who had not taken his eyes off the state senator, slid from the booth and stood.

      “Guvnah, it’s good to see you this mornin’.”

      The sharp scent of aftershave preceded the senator, whom Elmer saw move into his peripheral vision and shake hands with his uncle in a vigorous hold. Elmer took a bite of grits.

      “Lloyd, how in the heck are you, boy? You keeping everybody straight?”

      “It ain’t easy, but I’ll die tryin’.”

      “Boy, I know that.”

      “That’s a fine new car you got out there, Guvnah. Mighty fine.”

      “Well, it’s an old man’s indulgence. But it rides mighty sweet. I’ll have to take you out for a ride in it sometime soon, Lloyd.”

      “Anytime, Guvnah, anytime.”

      Elmer cut a large piece of the biscuit and sausage and ran it through the thick gravy and put it in his mouth. His uncle turned his way.

      “Guvnah, you know my nephew here.”

      “Of course, of course. How are you doing, Elmer?”

      Elmer put down his fork and turned in his seat and held out his hand to shake with the senator.

      “Yes sir,” he said, speaking as best he could with his mouth full. “I’m doing fine.”

      Lloyd said, “Elmer has been working for the power company. If you hear of any jobs, you let us know.”

      Terrell tilted his head back and put his hand on his chin, moving his fingers as though he had a beard he was pulling. “Oh, that’s right, I still think of Elmer as a deputy. Well, let me see . . . Come up front and see me this afternoon out at the dam. I’ll introduce you around. There’ll be a lot of folks down from Atlanta that could help you out.”

      Elmer didn’t say anything. He was half-turned toward the senator but his eyes were watching his food cool off, the little wafts of steam reducing by the second.

      Lloyd said, “Thank you, Guvnah. We’ll do it. I’ll be there. Elmer will get out there, too. Won’t you, Elmer?”

      “Yes, sir,” Elmer said, taking another bite but not looking his way.

      “Well,