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Pullin’ myself off the truck, I grab my hard hat from the seat before slammin’ the door shut. Shufflin’ my feet slowly through the gravel, I drag myself to the portal of the mines to the man trip. I climb inside the shuttle, crankin’ the engine, and begin my decent to the depth of the mines, a solitary light guiding me through the darkness. The darkness brings peace to my scattered thoughts, as I close my eyes, and relax momentarily, listenin’ to the gears grind as the rail pulls the man trip deeper into the mines. Several minutes pass before flickers of light cross my field of vision, and the quiet is replaced with the sounds of heavy equipment.
Exitin’ the buggy, I find the section my crew is workin’ in today. They’re all hard at work, diggin’ coal from the mountain, and pinnin’ the roof above ‘em. Productivity is boomin’, as I have the fastest crew at Simon Energy, workin’ their asses off, twelve hours every day, barely stoppin’ to even take a bite of food. We don’t screw around down here. We get shit done. I make my way to each miner, checkin’ in to see how the day is treatin’ ‘em and making sure there’s no issues. After talkin’ with the men, I inspect the mines, walkin’ through the sections, and checkin’ the roof pinnin’ for safety.
Most Superintendents don’t come underground too often. They stay bundled up in their warm offices, shootin’ the shit all day, sippin’ their hot coffee, and go home at the end of the day almost as clean as they were when they left. That shit ain’t for me, I’m underground daily. Coal is in my blood. Workin’ so fiercly that sweat rolls from my brow, despite the chillin’ fifty-two degree temperature underground, year-round. The excitement of operatin’ each piece of equipment, the thrill of knowin’ that with one false move, you could be in imminent danger. But, underground, we keep an eye out for each other, always mindful of the brother next to us. We all have families to go home to at the end of the shift. When I leave the mines, I expect to be black, covered in the sulfur scented soot. It’s proof that I’ve done my job; not pussy-footed around, pushin’ pencils and measurin’ dicks all day. I wear my minin’ stripes with pride.
After inspectin’ the crews work, I find a quiet section of the mines, and plant my ass firmly on the cold hard ground, switchin’ my head lamp off. I rest my forearms on my knees, and my head against the rib of the mines.
Sighin’ in desperation, I feel empty and lifeless. All I see when I close my eyes, is Carly Jo, and all I can hear is her gut wrenchin’ cries. I can’t sleep at night for the heartache of seeing her saddened eyes, and hearin’ her cries in my dreams. Wakin’ in cold, chillin’ sweats night after night, shaken from the nightmare of crushin’ her heart, makes me want to rip my own beatin’ heart from my chest, to end the suffering.
Pinchin’ the bridge of my nose, I take a deep breath to fight back the low grumblin’ growl that’s workin’ its way through my chest. Tears sting my eyes, and I force them to close. Puffin’ out a deep breath, I stand and begin to pace. Images of a shattered Carly Jo flood my mind, and the only sound I hear is her relentless screams, sobbin’ in despair.
Grippin’ my fists to my sides, tension rises and I begin to deliver blow after blow to the rib of the mines. The release of my pent up anger is temporary, as thick warm blood begins to drip from my knuckles, sliced from the sharp coal. Lookin’ down at my bloody knuckles, I have to laugh at myself and the irony of beatin’ out the pain. What the hell! Wipin’ my bloody knuckles across my pants, I storm off in the direction of my crew.
I work side by side, minin’ coal with my crew for the remainder of the shift. Ridin’ out of the mines, my eyes squint at the sun, tryin’ to refocus from the darkness. Consumed with anger, desperation and heartache, I storm off to my truck. I gotta get the hell away from Carly
Jo Simon, away from this damn mines.
Jumpin’ in the truck, I fire the engine to life, and speed out of the lot, tossin’ gravel behind me. When the rubber meets the road, my tires squeal and smoke flies, scarin’ the asphalt with black tracks. I drive. Just drive, with no destination in sight. I turn the radio on to drown out the sound of Carly Jo’s cries that are still hauntin’ me. Stay by Florida Georgia Line plays from the speakers. Listenin’ to the words, this song tells the story of my shattered heart.
Fightin’ my inner demons, I continue to speed to a destination unknown. But no matter how fast or far I drive, I’m still drawn back to Carly Jo. Damn it all to hell. Whippin’ my truck around on the shoulder of the road, I turn back and speed up the country road in search of my heart.
Chapter 15
Carly
I’m escorted down a long narrow hallway to James McCoy’s office by Alisa, his very young, attractive assistant. Dressed in a very short mid-thigh skirt, and button down top, exposing her busty cleavage, it appears as if Alisa’s assistance to James would be far more than the secretarial needs that her job requires. With long blond tendrils curling down her back, she wears too much make up, and enough perfume to make a French Whore pass out. If one were to pass her on the street at night, you could mistake her for a whore…just sayin’.
She opens the door to James’ office, and offers me a variety of refreshments while I wait. Taking a seat in front of the large cherry wood desk, I nod at her offer.
“Very well, Mr. McCoy will be with you shortly,” she says, as she peers down her nose at me, then sneers as she turns on her heels, with a little extra twist her hips, pulling the door together tightly. Feeling as if I made Alisa feel a little threatened in her own environment, I laugh inwardly at myself.
As I wait rather impatiently for James to arrive in his office, I remove the files that I found in the large oak chest from my messenger bag, and lay them in my lap. I read over the Life Insurance Policy again, careful not to leave out any pertinent information. However, the information is all basic. If that one little RELATIONSHIP line would have accurately filled in, I’d have the answers of which I seek. Growing impatient, my mind begins to wonder, filled with what-ifs, crazy scenarios that I need not entertain. The door handle rustles and turns, as the door inches open, revealing the short, frumpy attorney, James McCoy. Hurrying around his desk, with his briefcase tightly in hand, he extends his apologies for his lateness.
“Ah, Carly, forgive me, please. My court case went later than I expected. What do I owe the pleasure of seeing you today?”
“James, I was wondering if you could answer some questions for me about my daddy. I know y’all were close for the most part of his life, and I’m hoping you can enlighten me on something I have uncovered this week.”
Confusion marks James’ face as he leans forward, and rubs his chin. “Uncovered? What do you mean?” Leaning across the desk, I hand him a manila folder, filled with the contents that I had found from the chest. Filled with pictures, newspaper clippings, and the life insurance documents. James spreads the documents out across his desk, and looks each one over closely. A blank expression mares his face, as he reads the life insurance document. Laying the document back down on the desk, he rubs his hand over his chest, leaning back in his chair as he releases a deep breath. “What exactly do you think you have uncovered here, Carly?”
“I don’t know, that’s why I came to see you. You were Daddy’s attorney for as long as I can remember, so you have to understand the connection that he had with Drew Varney.”
“I’m sorry, Carly, but I don’t.” James states.
“You handled all of Daddy’s business and affairs, you can’t possibly expect me to believe that load of shit!” I spew at him. The blank expression on his face, tells me he knows more than he’s leading on.
“All I can tell you about Drew Varney is what you most likely already know. He’s the owner of American Heritage Coal Company.” James replies.
“Damn it, I already know that! I need to know why my daddy would have hidden pictures of this man, pictures that tell a story of his life over the years. Pictures of events that Daddy attended. Why would Daddy leave Drew such a large amount of money? None of it makes sense!” I yell as the anxiety of the situation gnaws at me.
“Carly, you have to understand, I have confidentiality rights I have to abide by. Anything your father discussed with me, any prior agreements, or arrangements I may have handled for him, are all confidential. By law, I can’t relay any information to you.”
“James, don’t you dare sit there and hide behind your law degree! You were his friend, and of anyone, you would know his secrets! Why the hell would he have all of this hidden away for so long? I just want answers to the secrets he held.” I plead, frustration marring my face as my eyebrows squish together, wrinkling my soft forehead. Taking a deep breath, James leans forward and begins shuffling all of the documents into the file.
“Have Alisa make copies of these documents on your way out, and I’ll have my investigator look into it. But I can’t promise you anything.” Standing, I take the file from his hand, and thank him for his understanding. He assures me that he should have some answers within a couple of weeks, but my patience is important to the investigation. Nodding in agreement, I shake his hand before turning on my heels, leaving James to his work, and in search of Alisa, his self-indulgent assistant.
At her desk, filing her nails, rather than paperwork, Alisa acts as if I’m non-existent in her presence, until I make my presence known by tossing the file down on her desk. “Sorry to interrupt your indulgence of self-pampering, but James needs copies of all of the documents in this file. Oh, make it quick, I have a busy day.” Raising her right brow, she spins out of her chair, and trudges towards the copier behind her desk. Stuffing the papers back into the folder, she forcefully hands the folder to me, with a sneer on her face.
“Have a pleasant day, Ms. Simon.” With a polite smirk, I giggle at her attempt to intimidate me, and thank her for her time. With a twist of the hip, I exit the law office and make my way out into the windy fall day, to my cherry red Camaro.
