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Jack watched as Donny and Shirley Peppers climbed out of a yellow Corvette.
Shirley said, “Where is that lady lawyer, Jack?”
“Desiree?” Jack called over his shoulder. “You’re wanted out here.”
DuBose came to the door and looked out at Shirley.
“Okay, Desiree, we heard what happened. Those damn assholes! Excuse my French. Now, we’re goin’ shoppin’ for clothes and shoes and accessories, and then you’re comin’ with me to my salon and we are gonna work on a new hairstyle so you can knock ’em dead in court.”
DuBose looked imploringly at Jack. “But we’ve got so much to get done.”
“Well, neither one of us can do it without clothes,” replied Jack. “You go with her, I’ll go shopping at the Goodwill, we’ll meet back here and burn the midnight oil.”
“You’re sure?”
Peppers glanced at his wife. “Well, I know that look, and Shirl is not going to take no for an answer.”
Shirley and DuBose drove off, while Peppers walked over to Jack.
“Real sorry about Lucy. We were at the funeral but didn’t want to bother you.”
“Thanks, Donny.”
“That’s your piece-of-shit Fiat over there, right?”
“Yeah, why?”
“While Shirl is doing her magic with Desiree, we need to work on you. Let’s go.”
Jack returned later with two suits and four shirts and a new belt, along with some skivvies and a new pair of black shoes and a few pairs of dress socks. Peppers had insisted on paying for all of it.
“Until you get back on your feet, Jack, then I am billing your ass, with interest.”
“Thanks, Donny, for everything. You need a ride home?” Jack asked.
“Nope. Shirl’s old man is coming by to get me. We’re about the same age, but we don’t have a lot in common.”
As soon as he said this, a dusty Dodge pickup truck pulled up with copper pipes and tool boxes and an old toilet in the rear bed. Driving was a massive, stern-looking Black man around Peppers’s age with a bald head and rolled up sleeves revealing heavily muscled forearms. On the side of the truck was stenciled: BIG MIKE, THE PLUMBER.
Peppers said, “That’s Big Mike.”
“Yeah, I’d actually worked that one out for myself,” replied Jack.
“He makes more money than I don’t know what. I mean, who knew toilets were so damn lucrative? And he’s really starting to come around on his opinion of me. Sort of going from outright revulsion to mild disgust.”
“That’s great. How long have you and Shirl been together now?”
“Seven years.”
Jack’s mouth fell open. “Oh, okay. Well, I guess keep doing what you’re doing and Big Mike will be shaking your hand in no time.”
Peppers climbed into the truck cab and they drove off, without Big Mike even once looking at his son-in-law.
Jack put his new things away, then went out to the garage to find that his father was hanging a sign on a wall.
“‘DuBose and Lee’?” Jack said, reading off the names his father had burned into a piece of pine.
“Yeah,” said Frank. “Think it has a real nice ring to it.”
