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)
A bad place to put a breaker box, if you ask me. But no one ever asked me.
When I get to the bottom, I open the little compartment, but the moment I do that, something falls out and makes a clinking noise on the concrete.
I shine light on the floor and spy a key. An old, rusted skeleton key. I pick it up and look at it, then shove it in my pocket and turn to the breakers.
The box is empty. I should’ve figured Lowyn would get new electrics when she redid the place. So I close it and go back upstairs, then hit up the garage and, sure enough, there’s a nearly brand-new box just next to the door.
I flip the breakers that were tripped, go back inside, and the lights are on again.
As soon as I close the door to the garage, a horn honks outside.
I let out a long breath, already tired of this day. But when I peek out, I have to laugh. Because Amon is leaning against a very fancy car right out front. Fancy-fancy, as Lowyn would say. And when I take a closer look, I realize it’s Old Man Hunt’s 1933 Rolls Royce Phantom II. “What the hell?”
Amon spies me in the window and starts yellin’ for me to hurry up. He’s wearing a costume that’s very similar to mine. And then I see Ryan and Nash are in the little backseat, dressed up with new clothes too.
Something is up, that’s for sure. I dunno what Jim Bob has planned for me today, but it’s definitely something. What can I do but play along? I go outside to my smiling partners and get in the fuckin’ car.
“Like my new threads?” Ryan says.
I look over my shoulder at him and Nash. “The two of you are gonna regret this, ya know. You have no idea how much you’re gonna wish that you never put those clothes on by Christmas Eve.”
“Oh, stop, Collin.” That’s Amon chastising me from the driver’s side, which is on the right in this car. “You act like Disciple is some kind of evil cult or something. It’s a fuckin’ tent revival.”
“It’s a scam is what it is.”
“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Nash says, “but isn’t ‘scam’ the dictionary definition of ‘tent revival?’”
I turn in my seat to point at him. “Correct. Scam from day one.”
“Why the hell did you want us to come back here if you hate this place so much?” Nash asks.
“Two words,” Amon says. “Lowyn”—he looks at me, winkin’—“McBride.”
“That’s not even true. Y’all know that we needed to meet some very specific requirements as far as the compound goes. Our place was the only place for sale that met all the conditions.”
“It’s kinda weird, don’t ya think?”
I look back at Ryan. “Weird how?”
“That it came up for sale right when we were looking. And it’s literally next door to yours and Amon’s home town. And practically came complete with a high-school girlfriend and a fuckin’ side show paying out a million dollars every New Year’s Day.”
“How’d you know about that?” But there’s only one way. So I direct my gaze back to Amon again. “You told them?”
“We’re partners,” Nash says. “It’s his job to tell us.”
“I hope you boys don’t expect no money on the first of the year. Because I don’t care what Amon told you, Jim Bob Baptist is not gonna pay no fuckin’ outsider part of his profit share.”
“We’ll see,” Ryan says.
“What’s there to see?”
Ryan looks at me. “If we’re valuable team members of the Revival, then who’s to say that Jim Bob Baptist won’t change his closed-up mind?”
I turn around and face forward, then huff out an incredulous sigh. “Keep dreaming, Ryan. You’ll see at the end of the year. And I’ll be tellin’ ya, ‘I told ya so.’”
Just as I say this, we turn, heading up the hill towards the Revival grounds. And for a moment I kinda get lost, unable to process what I’m seeing. “What the hell is that?”
“What the hell does it look like, Collin? It’s a fuckin’ tent.”
A tent? I mean… it’s kinda pitched like one. And it’s all made out of canvas or something that looks similar enough. But this is… an engineering miracle.
Those words in my head come out in Jim Bob’s voice, making me recall that first meeting when he was talking about how my daddy spent the entire year after I left working on plans to take the Revival to the next level. “Four-season festivities,” Jim Bob’s voice says again.
So that’s what I’m looking at—a four-season, five-acre-square tent city covering the entire Revival grounds—when we pull up to the east gate where security headquarters are. Only now, instead of just a gate leading into the park, there’s a… tunnel. That’s the only way to describe it. Made out of tent canvas and all ready to protect people from the rain once it starts.