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Her skirt was a quite long burgundy material of some light cloth like cotton and would sometimes ride up at the back and show a little bit of thigh when she bent over. I was just a boy working in the storeroom, weighing bags of sugar and such like, unloading the trucks when they came, and still delivering grocery orders on the push-bike when needed. She worked out on the counter taking customers orders and would be back and forth from the front of the shop to the storeroom where I worked. I don’t know how old she was but she had grey hairs in her black hair so I guess she was pretty old. I often helped her get whatever she neeeded and would position my self so I could get a bit of a look at her tits or up her skirt — which I managed quite often. Especially at lunchtimes when she would sit with the others out the back in the sunshine – always with her legs apart because her thighs were too fat to close properly. That’s when I would see the tops of her stockings and the white long-leg. My fans...”He shook his head but I didn’t think Steven had said anything. It was just one of Lucas’s mannerisms.“Man, the fans are the lifeblood of country music,” he said, his voice a little firmer. “They bust their asses, day in and day out, doing shitty jobs they probably hate to put food on the table and shoes on their kids’ feet. Then they take what’s left and give part of it to me and places like Ramblin’ Records. Maybe I’ve lost touch with them. I hope not. I hope that I still have the same kind of work ethic my mom and dad taught me when I was growing up the same way the fans grew up. I’ll tell you this. If I ever get to make music in the future, I’ll do whatever I can to prove myself to them again. We all feel that way.”Steven must have asked a question because Lucas nodded.“That’s the thing, Man,” he answered. “All of us out here right now ... and the hundreds of people we’re in contact with ... they understand that we’re damned lucky to be where we are. Yeah, it takes.
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