Chapter 23:  A Favorable Wind

The Quinn Residence, Backwoods, Temperance, South Dakota....

Jarrett A. Quinn, was a vastly peculiar man and even the residence of Temperance, South Dakota thought him an oddity. His nature was that of a vulgar man with a heated temperament and low beady blue eyes that seemed to stare right through the soul of anyone full enough to look him straight in the eye, but never reflected what was inside him when one hoped to look for a soul behind them. He spent the better part of any day he wasn't working, drunk off his arse and sitting in his lazy boy armchair with his trusty rottweiler dog Brutus beside him. Layla had not known much about her mother, but her father had the similar dark brown hair and blue eyes that indicated she shared at least that in terms of his features. He moved about the kitchen wearing a sweaty and stained white men's tank top, collectively referred to as a "wife-beater" which was appropriate for the early half of his marriage given his hot temper and preference for more traditional and sometimes misogynistic roles. On hot days when he'd been lounging at home, he was always in a fresh pair of boxer shorts of multi variations and holding an ice cold beer in his right hand while lounging in his favorite armchair.

Jarrett was prone to long hours listening to his record player and chain smoking marlboro cigarettes. Which caused the formerly white walls to become yellowed in the process of his constant smoking in the living room for years. When he first came to Temperance, he was a thin man that could eat any one out of house and home and not have a lick of weight to show for it. He was fond of his thick single barred mustache and unkempt dark brown locks that he made little to no effort in keeping up before throwing on a worn white cowboy hat fitted to his specifications and complete with a dead rattlesnake wrapped around the base.

It wasn't real of course, but style had never been the man's strong suit. He usually wore a pair of dirty blue jeans or any number of checkered lumberjack shirts with long sleeves sometimes rolled on hot days. He was partial to black or dark brown leather cowboy boots and even silver spurs. Layla thought him an outdated mess of a man, but he was her father and there was no changing him or his unseemly opinions.

As far as taste had been, his was anything that others would deem tacky and outdated. His choice of music was old country tunes sung by Hank Williams Sr., Hank Williams Jr., and sometimes Waylon Jennings most of the time. He hated rap music with a passion and kept a well oiled and loaded shotgun at the ready as well as two heavily polished silver pistols with ivory grips and many many rounds of ammo for fun. He once threatened Derrick with his hunting rifle when he found him in Layla's bedroom with the door closed until he came to the realization that Derrick was more interested in "playing for the home team" than bedding his daughter.

Since then one of the girls or Derrick had been the only ones allowed to enter the house when he had not been home.

Jarrett loved chewing peanuts or sunflower seeds when he had not been able to crack open any peanuts. He often left a good deal of trash near his chair and empty beer bottles. He liked his steak, which was always his preferred choice medium rare and his eggs sunny side up. A working man all his life, he mostly did just that aside from his other pastime of chasing loose women, usually blondes, and indulging his drinking habit.

The elder Quinn reeked of sweat, corn chips, and dry dirt from his time out and made little to no effort in taking a bath or shower to rid the house of his apparent stench. Layla winced when she exited her bedroom unsure if she even wanted breakfast as her father greeted her in his usual deep raspy southern drawl.

"Well morning to you too little girl." he said looking over at her from his chair after getting the umpteenth bottle of ice cold beer he'd been searching for.

Layla resisted the urge to roll her eyes.

Her father had been quite fond of calling her "little girl" more often than not to remind her just how he saw her in life.

"Hi Dad." she said greeting him with a kiss on the cheek, which he much preferred more often than not.

"You runnin' out to play with your little friends today?" Jarrett Quinn asked with an arched brow.

"We have a project to do before school ends and we'll be at Derrick's house with the other girls." said Layla knowing how her father was about her being out alone.

"His parents know you going over there?" asked Jarrett as he turned up his beer bottle and took a sip from it.

"Yes...they prefer him to be at home with the project and all." said Layla as she made her way to the kitchen and begun searching for something to tide her over until she reached Derrick's place. He had plenty of food, but the two long bus rides would be even longer if she hadn't at least had a snack before she left.

"You working the diner today?" asked Jarrett barely turning from the television to look in his daughter's direction.

"Yes...but not until later." replied Layla. "I'll phone you from there."

"I might have company over later." said Jarrett taking another sip of his beer. "Might wanna make yourself scare till the parting."

Layla rolled her eyes as she looked into the fridge. There was little more than old bowls and bottles of beer inside with a few fruits not yet rotted via being left inside for too long. She took one of the peaches and washed it off via the faucet and her shirt. While it was yet another hot day, she decided to wear denim jeans, a blue t-shirt and a light colored jean jacket along with her black pack pack and white tennis shoes.

She had her long dark brown locks, which had bene similar to her father's now greying hair, pulled back into a quick ponytail and no jewelry. Her father absolutely forbid she wear jewelry as "it gave the wrong impression" as far as he was concerned and made her a possible target for thieves.

Layla wasn't a big fan of her father's taste in women. She hadn't even been fond of her own mother for that matter, but she knew he was going to do what he was going to do no matter what she said or how she felt, something she clearly got from him growing up.

"Bye Daddy." she said as she headed out the door prompting Brutus to get to his feet and offer a deep bark in reaction to the door being opened.

"Stay out of trouble, Little Girl." called her father before he turned his attention to Brutus and yelled for him to "Shut up!"

Brutus growled before sitting back down in the spot he'd been in before and lied down as if nothing had never happened while his master Jarrett turned his attention back to the television as he heard the front screen slam behind his daughter.

Layla had been pleased to finally be out of the house and the stench had been gone. She rolled her eyes at the fact that her father had once more managed to become a tornado of terror and messed the place up after she spent so long getting it clean. She headed toward the bus stop knowing she had another bus stop in the works before she fully got into town and away from the yellow house in the back woods she shared with her father and his idiot dog.

Something of a cool breeze passed by her that reminded her of the breeze from her dream. She took it as a sign of a favorable wind and continued on her way toward the bus stop as if she had not a care in the world.

Once more the hypnotic grey eyes of the man she knew as Brick came flooding her mind and she attempted to quell it and get on with the remainder of her day.