Total pages in book: 128
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 122097 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 610(@200wpm)___ 488(@250wpm)___ 407(@300wpm)
Amon is still talkin’. “Because I love it here. I’m happy to be back. I’m glad we chose this place and I’m gonna settle down here and raise me some little asshole kids one day.”
I just shake my head at him as I laugh.
“Anyway. Next time she goes out on the road, you need to go with her, Collin. We both know that the world is a dangerous fuckin’ place. And while I would generally call the Trinity area safe, your woman is driving clear across Tennessee.” When I look over, I find him shaking his head. “Nope. I’ve heard about Tennesseans.”
“Shut up.”
“I’ve heard the rumors of what goes on down there.”
“You’re stupid. She’s been doing it for years, apparently. I’m sure she’s fine.” And just as I say that my map app tells me that the driveway I’m looking for is coming up on the right. We turn in and come face to face with a formidable wrought-iron gate.
Amon whistles out his first impression, which is one of appreciation. “We’re gonna charge this one double, right?”
I don’t answer him. Just buzz my window down and press the call button. No one asks questions, but they don’t have to because I’ve already counted up three separate cameras, one of which is staring right at my face from the other side of a teeny-tiny hole on the keypad.
The gates open and we pull forward up a long blacktop driveway that leads to an impressive stone house. Sassy Lorraine greets us from under a nice portico, waving her hand, a smile on her face.
Two hours later we’ve secured the information for the recon, Amon is in love with Sassy’s missing dog—which is one of those pocket chihuahuas that wears clothes—and we’re also on our way home.
Amon brought his laptop, so he’s already putting together a plan to bust the dog out of a mansion in the Bahamas.
“Hey.”
Amon doesn’t even look away from his computer. “What?” His fingers never stop tapping.
“You never said what you’re gonna do for contribution.”
“Oh.” He pauses his typing and looks at me. “Security, of course.”
I shoot him a look. “Please tell me—”
“Listen.” He puts up a hand to full-stop me. “It’s what we do. One or two guys making the rounds every weekend, it’s not a big deal.”
“He’s gonna pay us? Because we don’t live in town, Amon. We’re not gettin’ a share of nothin’.”
“It’s not exactly profit share, but you’re wrong. You’ll see. Just talk to him about it. And don’t say no just to be a dick. Hear him out.”
I let out a breath.
“Will you do that, Collin?” Amon studies me. “Just… hear him out?”
“Why should I? I don’t want to be a part of it.”
“You say that—”
“Because I mean it.”
“You say that because this town left a bad taste in your mouth when you lit out. But now that you’re back, can’t you at least admit that there’s parts of it ya missed?”
I sigh again. He’s not wrong. I did miss Lowyn. And the memory of her as she played her part in the Revival. And I did leave here with a wad of money in the bank. More than most eighteen-year-olds have, thanks to profit share.
Some years the profit share is real good. Last time I checked there were a hundred and twenty-seven people playing their part in the Revival and every man, woman, and child inside Disciple town limits gets a percentage of the profits. Babies and children under eighteen get what you’d expect. It comes out to a couple thousand dollars a year after all is said and done. It goes straight to the bank, of course. Ya can’t touch it until you’re eighteen. But when you’re collecting that profit-share money your entire childhood, it adds up. Amon and I both had over thirty-seven-thousand dollars when we left.
It's enough to get started in life. Take the money and run, if ya want. Plenty of us did that.
But some people stick around, buy a little house, start a little business.
I guess that’s what Lowyn did with hers.
Married men all get one percent of net and everyone else over eighteen gets point two-five percent and it is not uncommon for the Revival to net several million dollars a year. Hell, there were some years back when I was a kid where we got up in the ten-mil range. That means the married men get between twenty and fifty grand a year. Which isn’t making anyone rich, but it’s paid lump sum on January first and that money sure starts the new year out right.
It’s not just money though, it’s hope. If you had a bad year—if you were struggling—you always knew that on January first you had a fresh start comin’.
Plus, every man in town, even Jim Bob, has a day job. And if you ever find yourself lacking, this town will take care of you. So being in the Revival does have perks. Being a married man in the Revival even more so.