Home Is Where Your Boots Are (18 page)

Jesus. Thanks for the grace, when I didn’t at all deserve it.

Husband. Thank you for being hot. And a not so nice guy.

Kids. Thanks for being the kind that like to sleep, so mommy could work odd hours thinking about ways for people to get shot. And for already being book lovers, and validating how important words are.

Family. Y’all are nuts. And the best. Thanks for always thinking I’m funny. Even when I’m not. And always telling me to try harder.

Editor
#1
. Otherwise known as mom. You have extracted the writer in me. Thanks for making it so hard; and pretty much being a literary genius. I think it might get easier? Maybe not. 

Editor #2. Nowlin. Thanks for having my back and making sure every stinkin’ detail was perfect. Every Stinkin’ Detail. Adding that “bless your heart” was icing. I promise not to ever use you for inspiration. Maybe.

Tahlequah. I kind of just want to cut and paste a Carrie Underwood song. Good or bad, I would not be me with my hometown. I think everyone in it is pretty darn awesome. Thanks for being such an inspiration.

Girls. Thanks for being the kind of friends always ready to rally and look at each other funny when someone says, “I don’t think I can do this.” That kind of faith, and that kind of grace; hard to find. Impossible to replicate. I love you guys.

Readers. I hope you fall in love with these people. Brooks is one of my favorite places. Its people are my people. Treat them well. 

The MisAdventures of Miss Lilly

Volume 2

Kalan Chapman Lloyd

I’d always wanted to kill him. So I shot him. Shot him good. I hit my mark dead-on. In fact, I was so dead-on that after all the melee, the Chief Investigative Coordinator (I think that was his title) for the Oklahoma Agency of Investigation had offered me a job. Considering the fact that I’m a licensed attorney and I was somewhat shell-shocked, I think I turned him down. Telling someone you shot someone, or having someone else relay the news, sounds sexy. She shot him, he got shot, I pulled the trigger. It sounds like something that would make good copy. Until you relay the rest of the information…in the big toe. I shot him in the big toe. No major arteries were nicked, no life-threatening damage was done. He even kept the toe.

I don’t know what’s more embarrassing, the fact that I actually shot him in the toe, or the fact that I was actually aiming there on purpose. I mean, really, I have the chance to justifiably maim my ex-boyfriend with reliable witnesses and I choose to point the pink pearl-handed pistol at his foot. My mama was proud, and my sister high-fived me, but I was having a major case of embarrassment. Piled on top of the reason I was even in that right place at the right time, and a girl could just get weighed down.

My name is Lilly Atkins. I’m an Oklahoman turned Texan turned Oklahoman again. I used to be a snooty real estate lawyer in Dallas, but after I caught my spineless, gutless wonder of a fiancé cheating on me, I hauled my heart and my bags back to my mama and daddy. I set up shop to do small town law and got involved in some big city stuff. My ex-boyfriend tried to enlist me to help him divorce his wife (I’m not proud to say I accepted the retainer before I came to my senses) and I subsequently found out not only did he have an illegitimate daughter, but he was smuggling body parts on the black market out of the hospital where he was the Chief of Staff. Talk about the heebie jeebies. I found all this out, because every single client I’d picked up since I’d returned home thought I was a savvy version of Nancy Drew. Which I am not, but against my good judgment I enlisted my best friend, Fae Lynn, to help me investigate all the mayhem. We’d cracked the case, but not before being held hostage at gunpoint by Cash (the evil ex) and the mayor, his cohort.

Anyway, he was in jail now, along with the mayor, who he’d narc'd on. I’d managed to shoot him in the toe before they hauled him away. I suppose I should be somewhat proud. My daddy says we’re at our spiritual best when we have mean thoughts but don’t act on them. I really did want to shoot him somewhere further north, so I guess I could explain to people I was feeling charitable, but I think everyone was a little disappointed I hadn’t permanently maimed him when I had the chance. Fae Lynn smacked the back of the head after they’d returned the gun to my sister.

“What were you thinking?” She yelled at me. “I’da nailed him in the nuts.” Of course she would have. I’d like to think I’m a little more couth than that. I’m not of course; I’d just like to think I am. The thing was I didn’t know why I hadn’t shot him in a better, more likely to maim, part of his body. I’d been mulling it over in my head and the only conclusion I’d been able to come to was a strange one, one I’d been avoiding sharing with Fae Lynn and even my sister. One I’m not sure myself was even keen on believing.

I’d like to think with was my old perfection coming to rear its head again, but I was afraid it had more to do with my tendency to vomit upon the sight of blood. That and the fact, that Spencer Locke was on the scene and I didn’t want him to think I was too redneck. I mean, I can’t get around most of it, but I really wanted to retain some air of non-redneckness.

Spencer Locke is the nephew and newest associate of Charlie Locke, my career mentor and constant sexual harassment suit waiting to happen. Spencer had arrived in Brooks a little before I did and had managed to charm the entire town before I’d even gotten there. Everything about him was overwhelmingly irritating; he was smooth and polished, unruffled, confident, kind. I really, really, really wanted to be cross with him every time I was around him but couldn’t every time I was around him. Every time I was in his presence I kept up a constant debate on whether to kiss him or kill him. I kissed him once, but that didn’t turn out so well.

So I think the only reason I didn’t shoot Cash dead was because he was there. Did I mention he used to be an undercover detective and they’d enlisted his help when they found out he was in town? Yeah, he’s
that
guy. Did I also mention that he’d rescued Fae Lynn and I from our hostage situation? Ugh, I mean how much more irritatingly perfect could he get? 

The irritation was strong enough to waft from the corridors of the Brooks County Courthouse, where I knew he was, because Fae Lynn had called me fifteen minutes ago to tell me when he walked in the door. Which is why, on a Friday afternoon, with the moist August heat threatening to curl my hair, I was sitting in my antique chair trying to dissect the man instead of listening to my new client. I pulled my height up and re-adjusted the notebook in front of me.

“Now tell me again who’s suing you?” I asked, reaching for the petition he’d apparently been handed at the horse sale. He took the piece of hay out of his mouth and leaned back in his chair.

“Pet-tuh.” Was that Italian? I quickly scanned the documents in front of me.

“Ah, PETA, as in the People for the Ethical Treatment of Animals.” He shrugged.

“Whatever. Them. Now, what’s that stack of papers mean?” I continued to scan, simultaneously trying not to laugh and not be confused.

“They want to sue you for the assault and subsequent death of ‘Peter Cottontail’ otherwise known as ‘Bunny at Large’. Is this a joke? I’m confused.”

“Nah, I think I know what it’s about. It’s about that bunny.” I used to work million dollar mergers people, I promise.

“What bunny?”

“The one I drop-kicked.”

“You drop-kicked a bunny?” He didn’t look chagrined, but he didn’t look too proud either, I took that as a good sign.

“Yeah,” he sat up defensively. “But I put it out of its misery. I shot it afterwards.”

This is why I know I’ll never be out of a job.

Available in 2015 by

Kalan Chapman Lloyd

The MisAdventures of Miss Lilly

Home Is Where Your Boots Are

These Boots Are Made For Butt-Kickin’

Mo(u)rning Joy: A Memoir

Kalan Chapman Lloyd
 
is an attorney and author currently residing in Tulsa, Oklahoma. She enjoys big hair, Supreme Court Decisions on Intellectual Property,
 
hats,
 
the sound of construction and the feel of brand new sweatshirts.
 
Kalan grew up in the small town Tahlequah, OK where she graduated from Tahlequah Senior High School. She attended Oklahoma State University and the University of Tulsa College of Law and has been a member of the Oklahoma Bar since 2008.

Find the
Kalan
at

www.kalanchapmanlloyd.com