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I can see that. But what does Harris think of it now? With all these half-naked men running around? Assuming he’s cognizant…
I don’t verbalize the thought. I’m sure Jake thinks about it every day—his dad in a wheelchair drooling on himself. Forced to be around his wife’s harem of butlers. This wasn’t what he dreamed of for this property. For their life together.
My mind then starts to wander into the dark abyss of Magnolia messing around with them too, the way Ruby does, with Harris in the same house, and I put a hard stop to it. I’d like to keep what’s left of my brunch down, thank you.
As we chew all of this over, the atmosphere around us turns darker, into a blanket of melancholy. Jake must be thinking the same things. Where did it all go wrong?
With the wreck, maybe. Their golden era started crumbling around them when the wreck happened. When they were faced with the difficult decision of whether they should let their kids answer for their own actions or cover it all up to secure their futures.
Especially the one in front of me, who was groomed from the start to take after his father. “I’ve always wanted to be a driver,” Jake has said in numerous interviews. “I was born with gasoline in my blood.” They wanted to be the next southern Nascar dynasty. The next Dale Earnhardt and Earnhardt Junior.
Or, maybe the decision wasn’t all that difficult for them. They did what they had to do to maintain their notoriety. Maybe it was easy to place the blame on the other driver. Drug her up and make it look like it was all her fault. The Mitchell’s were the victims.
Fast forward three years later, Harris has the stroke. From the stress of the secrets and coverups? Did he drink more to numb? Take up smoking?
Then Rose died her mysterious death.
Magnolia and Ruby took over, and now Jake never comes home…understandably.
Preston does what he’s told and runs an underground cupcake business to fill the void.
Jake is the next one to break the silence. “And all of that can be on the record,” he says, almost sadly.
“Okay,” I reply, my voice soft with understanding. “On the record.”
