The Bonds of Friendship
Receiving kindness. Even if you don't deserve it.
“He ain’t a bad kid, Eb. But ain’t the smartest either, not by a full jug,” explained Jimmy Don, sitting in front of Eb Hale’s office desk.
Eb Hale was the proprietor of Hale’s Bail in Manchester, Coffee county’s seat in Tennessee. Hale’s Bail was the biggest bond firm in the county – but what few knew was that JD was a silent partner in the firm – some months Jimmy Don pulled more money from the bond business than he did in the excavation business, especially in winter.
JD believed in Eb Hale because Eb Hale seemed to know everyone in Coffee County – that’s a major plus in the business, because writing bonds is basically gambling. When a bail bondsman writes a bond to release someone accused of a crime, he’s betting that the accused will abide by the terms of the agreement and show up for his court appearances.
If you know folks in a community, that intelligence gives you an edge – it keeps you from writing a bond for a knucklehead who leaves jail and then skips bail – a losing proposition for the bondsman, because he then is required to pay the court for the entire bond amount.
Of course, the bondsman has the right to go after the accused’s assets or the assets of whomever signed the bond agreement, but the legal process always gobbles up the profit.
Eb knows Coffee County inside and out – he rarely writes a bad bond, so he and JD make a tidy sum. Hale’s Bail also does well because 99% of the time JD keeps his nose out of the bail business.’
Unlike today. Jimmy Don was asking Eb to write a bond for Cyril Davis.
“Cyril is a good kid at heart, but if he was a hunter, he’d say ‘Ready, fire, aim.’ They ain’t no edit button between his brain and his tongue.”
Eb leaned back in his desk chair. Beanpole thin with graying temples accenting thinning dark hair, Eb was a good listener who didn’t miss much because of it. It was a quiet morning, so they took their time going over the situation over several cups of coffee.
“So what happened at Vi’s that ended up with young Mister Davis spending the night at the county jail?” asked Eb, pointing at JD’s coffee cup. Jimmy Don waved him away – he still had at least half a cup.
“See, Cyril usually comes in dead sober, sips his beer, just enjoys the company. Last night though, he come in already wallpapered.”
“Drivin’ too?” Eb shook his head.
“Like I said, that ain’t like him. He hits the bar and gets a bit too demanding for Vi. She don’t put up with much from folks get pissy. She draws him a beer but keeps an eye on him.
“So he takes a sip of his beer, puts it down on the bar – announces, ‘I’ll be back in 15 or 20 ounces’ and hits the head.” Jimmy Don smiled. “And he starts for the exit, but his buddy Aggie turns him around and points him the right way.”
“I remember being young and dumb,” mused Eb.
“Vi gets Aggie’s eye, says, ‘Do me a favor and keep an eye on your buddy, okay?’ Aggie agrees, just as Cyril stumbles out of the can – got toilet paper stuffed up one of the legs of his Levi’s, which of course everbody sees – and he staggers back to the bar. Now he’s got an edge to him – like I said, that ain’t like him, specially since he’s 5-foot nothin’ and maybe 130 pounds.”
“He got a Napoleon Complex?” Eb asked, as he emptied the rest of the cream in his coffee.
“Naw- like I said, this just AIN’T like the little twerp. Which is why I wanna get him bonded out. Anyway, he sits down at the bar and bellers ‘How ‘bout my goddam beer?’ Aggie grabs the linthead’s beer and puts it in front of him. He looks down at it, eyes kinda out of focus, then looks at Aggie, says, ‘FINALLY some service.’
“Vi’s patience is wearing REAL thin now. Out the kitchen comes Leon on a break, and he sits down on the other side of the bar and Vi draws him a Diet Coke.
“Couple minutes later Arch Klumpe comes outa the Men’s Room –”
“Arch was there?” asked Eb. “Good guy – I like Arch.”
“Hell, you like DILLY is what YOU like.” Eb blushes, and JD continues. “Arch comes out of the can and announces that Cyril trashed it. Pulled the hand towel dispenser off the wall, paper towels all over the place, one of the urinals stopped up and water running to the floor drain.
“Vi pokes her head in, turns around, stares daggers at Cyril, and tells him to clean up his own damn mess. Cyril says, ‘Hell I will! I don’t work here!’
“By now Aggie’s trying to calm him down, tells Cyril he’ll help clean it up and drive him home. But nooooo.” JD shakes his head and takes the last gulp of his coffee. “Cyril points at Leon and announces, ‘Make HIM do it! Rastus works here, not me!”
“Oh, shit,” mumbles Eb.
“‘Oh, shit’ is right – and NOBODY can believe it. But next thing, my boy and Doc and Vi are standing around Leon keepin’ him from kickin’ Cyril’s ass.
“Aggie grabs Cyril to shut him up, and Cyril turns around and cold cocks his best friend!”
“What a dick.”
“Well, last night he was anyway. So Vi called the sheriff – she’s past bein’ diplomatic. Now Aggie and Edzel have Cyril sitting at the bar – he keeps tryin’ to stand up, but they basically sit on him.
“Couple deputies show up, listen to Vi’s explanation, and are puttin’ cuffs on Cyril, when Leon pipes up, “Stupid drunken cracker…”
Eb winced. “We got a couple deputies in the department who are a century behind the times. I wish their boss would clean house.”
JD wiped his face with his massive hands and nods. “Exactly. One of the deputies don’t take kindly to that comment. So he wanders over towards Leon.
“Now Vi and Doc and Jimmy Jay stand between the redneck deputy and Leon and are tellin’ him Leon is the victim here and is pissed off at the situation, not the deputy. The deputy ain’t buyin’ it, so he starts cuffing Leon.
“Dammit, feels like 1962 for God’s sake.”
“Eventually we’re able to talk the cuffs off Leon, but the deputy writes him some bullshit ticket.” JD shook his head. “The prosecutor stops in Vi’s from time to time, so she and I are gonna get in front of him and get that ticket torn up.”
“Morons like that give all us white folks a bad name.”
“Yep. Anyway, you wanna put my equipment up as collateral, I’ll sign the bond and get Cyril out of the hoosegow.”
Eb was already filling out the paperwork, and in short order Jimmy Don had everything he needed. As he stood to go, Eb called and pointed at his business partner and friend.
“You’re a nice guy JD – maybe too nice.”
Jimmy Don grinned and wagged his eyebrows. “Oh, you’d better believe Cyril’s gonna pay me back. Plus, I get to drive him home. Kid’s always been a bit afraid of me.”
“Gonna put the fear of God in him?”
JD held up his keys. “I got the work truck this morning. All vinyl interior. I ‘spect Cyril will have filled his diaper by the time I get him home. This gonna be FUN…”
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