Roustabout

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “No, he doesn’t.”

  “Why?” I asked furiously. “Why are you with him?”

  She pressed her lips together in a flat line.

  “There aren’t too many choices when you’re 17 and pregnant.”

  My stomach lurched and I felt a cold sweat break out all over my body. Renee sneered at me.

  “Jesus, Tucker! Don’t look so shocked; we’d been screwing since we were 13. Guess it caught up with us.”

  “Yeah, but I wasn’t the only one,” I bit out. “What about Randolph?”

  “Scotty doesn’t look anything like him. Wake up, Tucker! The kid is the spitting image of you.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  She shrugged. “I didn’t get the chance. You were away and gone; didn’t exactly leave a forwarding address, did you?”

  I gave an angry laugh. “Are you surprised? The last time I saw you, Randolph was . . .” I couldn’t even bring myself to say it.

  Renee shook her head bitterly. “You were always such a dreamer—head in the clouds. Everything was just a damn joke to you. Well, life has gotten serious.”

  I had to look away. “You never did get me, Renee.”

  “What does that mean?”

  I sighed and rubbed my eyes. “Doesn’t matter. Where does Jackson fit into this?”

  She shrugged. “Scotty needed a father and he was a better bet than Randolph. I told Jackson it was him. He believed me.”

  Jesus! Had she been screwing my whole family behind my back? Maybe Jason, too? I shook my head, not wanting to think about it.

  “So why are you telling me now?”

  A cold gleam glittered in her eyes. “You’ve done well for yourself; got out of this dead-end town, didn’t you? I read about you on the internet, riding with that famous stuntman.”

  I met her stare. “So this is about money?”

  She licked her lips. “You owe me. I was the one who was supposed to leave.”

  “Well, you’re shit out of luck because I’m broke.”

  “Bullshit! You ridin’ that fancy foreign motorcycle. Tell me that isn’t worth thousands of dollars!”

  She was right, but it was also the only thing I had.

  “I want a paternity test,” I said. “If Scotty’s mine, I want to know it for sure.”

  Renee grimaced. “I can’t afford that kind of money.”

  “What about Jackson? You’re married to the douche—he must be down on Scotty’s birth certificate?”

  Renee looked away.

  “We’re not married. Jackson gave me a ring, but we never made it legal.”

  Sounded like Jackson.

  “Well, whose name is down on the birth certificate as Scotty’s father?”

  Renee lifted her chin and glared at me.

  “No one.”

  I frowned, not sure what to believe.

  “You’ve known where I was for a year now—you could have filed a paternity suit. The Courts would have come after me for child support.”

  Renee glared. “Oh yeah, sure. Right after Jackson had beaten me black and blue.”

  An ache filled my chest. Just like Momma.

  I tamped down the growing feeling of guilt.

  “Get the test, or you won’t see a penny from me.”

  “Mom, what’s going on?”

  Scotty’s worried voice interrupted us.

  Renee grabbed his shoulders and pulled him into a tight hug. There was no doubting her love for the kid—I just doubted everything else that came out of her bitter mouth.

  “Get the test, Renee,” I said in a low voice. “I’ll stay in town for two more days, after that, I’m gone.”

  Randolph lurched out of the door toward the truck, drunk and cussing up a storm.

  He was smaller than I remembered, and it seemed unbelievable that he’d terrorized me for most of my childhood. I waited for the hot flash of hatred, but all I felt was disgust. He didn’t even recognize me—or he was too drunk to care.

  I walked back to my Duke in a daze. I didn’t know what to believe. Rationally, I knew that Renee had lied to me before, but damn it she was right—Scotty was the spitting image of me. Jackson was dark haired and dark eyed. But then again, Renee was blonde, as well.

  My mind twisted and turned, and on top of the whole clusterfuck was Tera. What the hell must she think of me now?

  Maybe it was just as well. I was no good for her; a no-good guy with nothing to offer.

  But I had to at least try and explain. She deserved that much.

  I rode back to her hotel slowly, trying to find the words that would make her listen, practicing what I needed to stay.

  I rode the elevator to her room and took a deep breath before knocking on the door. There was no answer.

  “TC, it’s me. Please, sugar, let me explain.”

  Silence.

  “Tera, I just need five minutes.”

  I leaned my head against the door, my thoughts weighing heavily. I waited another ten minutes before I decided to give her some space.

  I walked outside into the blazing heat, feeling the sun beating down from the hard blue sky. I figured maybe I could wait for her. Maybe if I gave her time to cool down, she’d talk to me. It wasn’t much of a plan, but frying my brain in the sun wouldn’t help either. I wandered toward a thick tangle of pines where the shadows were deep and the air was a couple of degrees cooler.

  From here, I could just see the hotel’s entrance as well as the window of Tera’s room. I’d wait.

  I was so deep in thought, that I didn’t hear them until they were nearly on me.

  The soft rush of rapid footsteps behind snapped me out of it and I was already turning when a hard fist landed square in my gut.

  The breath whooshed out of my lungs in a painful hiss as I jack-knifed over.

  “You were warned. Stay the fuck away from her, McCoy. She doesn’t need a loser like you in her life.”

  Thud.

  The next fist landed on my cheek and I reeled backwards. I had just enough presence of mind to fold my body over as kicks rained down on me. I managed to grab onto someone’s foot and take the fucker with me. I got in a few good punches before two other men grabbed my arms and hauled me upright, and another kick was aimed at my stomach. I tensed my muscles as much as possible, but the guy’s aim was solid.

  My body sagged as two heavies held my arms and another one used me as a punch bag. My left eye was swollen shut, my jaw was throbbing like a bastard and I could taste blood in my mouth. The knuckles on both of my hands were split, which meant the assholes holding me hadn’t gotten away without some damage.

  I looked up at my attackers, my vision blurring as I tried to focus.

  The two men holding me had the type of short haircuts that made them look military, and the one beating the shit out of me had a radio mic in his ear which told me exactly what he was. So I wasn’t surprised to see Senator Hawkins leaning casually against a tree. He’d come to make good on his threat himself—this was personal.

  Another man flanked him. This was one fight that I wasn’t going to win. Not five against one, when four of the dudes were probably security services, and the other hated me more than Satan.

  “Are you listening, you fucking piece of shit, because next time I won’t say it so nicely.”

  A fist hit my temple and everything went black for a second.

  I shook my head, trying to clear it.

  “Stay away from my daughter!”

  The Senator’s mouth was peeled back from his teeth and his eyes blazed with rage.

  I laughed at him through split lips, pausing only to spit out a gob of blood.

  “You think this will make a difference? You can’t get me fired; you can’t do anything to me . . . and I can take a beating.”

  “Is that what you think?” The Senator stood upright and smiled coldly, then he nodded to his men. “Break his legs.”

  Oh, shit! That got my attention. I stared at the Senator, seeing no hesitat
ion in his eyes.

  I started struggling harder, lashing out with my feet and catching one of the goons in the shin.

  He swore loudly and leaned down on my trapped arm. I heard a faint ‘pop’ as my shoulder dislocated and I landed face first on the ground.

  One of them kicked me in the ribs as I tried to roll, pain shooting through my shoulder as my right arm hung limply.

  “Tucker!”

  I heard Tera scream, the sound coming from above, from her window.

  “I called 911,” she shrieked. “The police are on their way.”

  Immediately, the goons melted into the shadows and the Senator’s voice was a hoarse rattle by my ear.

  “Touch her again and it will be your legs.”

  Then he was gone.

  I lay bleeding in the dirt, my whole body on fire.

  Then I heard Tera’s voice as she skidded to a halt next to me, falling to her knees, her hands fluttering over me, afraid to touch.

  “Oh my God! Oh my God! Tucker . . .”

  I groaned and tried to sit up, cradling my useless arm.”

  “W-what happened?”

  I had less than a second to make a decision.

  “Muggers,” I said, my voice strained. “Probably after the keys to the Duke.”

  “Oh my God,” she said again, her eyes darting back and forth. “Look at your shoulder!”

  “Dislocated,” I muttered with a grimace.”

  “How do you know? Are you sure? It could be broken! Don’t try and move it!”

  Her hands trembled as she tried to brush my hair out of my eyes.

  “I don’t know where to touch you—you’re all hurt and bloody!”

  I almost laughed, but my shoulder spasmed and I thought I was going to pass out.

  “Oh God, Tucker! Don’t die!” Tera gripped my hand so hard, I groaned.

  “I’m not dying, TC,” I grit out, “but I might if you cut off the blood supply to my hand.”

  “Stop joking!” she cried out. “This is serious!”

  Blood dripped down my forehead from a gash over my eye. I could feel my lip swelling and knew I’d look like Donald Duck. I hoped Tera liked the pouty look. Then I remembered that we weren’t together and never would be. Bile rose in my throat.

  After a moment, she pulled a tissue out of her pocket and dabbed at the blood on my cheek.

  “You’re such a mess,” she gulped, trying to swallow as the tears ran down her cheeks.

  I was a mess—and in more ways than she meant. My body was a mass of pain, but seeing her tears, that was worse.

  In the distance, I could hear the sound of the police and an ambulance, and after a moment blue lights turned the parking lot into an incident area. People were staring out their windows and a crowd began to gather, edging toward us.

  The two police officers climbed out of the patrol car. One kept the crowd back, while the other cleared a path for the paramedics, an older guy and a girl who looked as if she’d just graduated high school—possibly.

  “Got a dislocated shoulder,” I said helpfully. “Done it once before and it hurt the same.”

  “We’ll just take a look,” said the guy, holding my arm at the elbow before he tried to touch me.

  “How did this happen?” asked the police officer.

  “Tripped,” I said, and at the same time Tera answered, “he was mugged.”

  The police officer and paramedics exchanged a look while Tera gave me a hard stare.

  They didn’t ask any more questions, but gave me a pillow to hold in the gap between the side of my body and my arm to support it. Then they looped a sling across my forearm to hold it in place across my chest. Fucking hurt, but I didn’t say anything.

  They situated me on the gurney, my head already throbbing like a bitch, and my left eye was closing.

  “Are you coming with him, miss?” the guy asked Tera.

  She pressed her lips together then nodded abruptly.

  I was surprised, but I shouldn’t have been—she had a big heart, even for a guy who’d just broken it.

  The journey to ER was painful, and not just because my shoulder felt like someone was sticking knives in it and the tortured nerves kept sending electric shocks up my spine. I just about bit off my tongue trying not to yell. I could feel sweat breaking out all over my body but I felt cold, as well. I hoped I wasn’t going into shock.

  Tera didn’t say a word. In fact she could hardly meet my eyes, but she didn’t stop staring at the cut on my head or my fucked up shoulder.

  The bright lights of the ER made my head throb even worse. There wasn’t a part of me that didn’t hurt.

  But I couldn’t tell Tera that her father did this; I’d hurt her enough already.

  The police asked a lot of questions that I just laughed off or ignored: I hadn’t seen or heard anything; I couldn’t describe my attackers and had no idea what they wanted. No, I didn’t want to make a big deal of it. Tera stared at the wall behind me, her arms folded across her tits.

  Then the doc waved them away while he glued my head and gave me some ice to hold against my cheek and lip. There wasn’t anything he could do for bruised ribs.

  The police weren’t happy, but finally left, reminding me to call if I thought of anything else. I thanked them for their time, relieved that Tera hadn’t forced the issue. She told them that she saw four, maybe five men, but they’d run away when she’d shouted out. Which was all true.

  When the doc took me away to x-ray my shoulder, my eyes met Tera’s, and I saw pain and disappointment mixed with longing. I sighed and turned away.

  I sure as hell didn’t expect to see her when I got back, but she was still there—waiting through what seemed like hours. I began to feel like she was haunting me and I actually started to wish that she’d leave. I’d have told her go, but I knew that this was the last time I’d see her like this . . . when we could still acknowledge what we had between us, what we’d shared.

  Instead, I saw a long future of meeting her at Kes’s parties or at the cabin and not being able to touch her. Worse still, maybe seeing her with some other man. It hurt like hell to lose her, even though she was still sitting a few feet away from me. I considered leaving the act, leaving Hawkins’ Daredevils, but then I’d be the nothing she already thought I was.

  I tried to find the words to tell her how I felt, about how Renee had ambushed me, but my brain was all shook up and I was having difficulty focusing on any of the thoughts ricocheting around my head.

  The doc gave me a mild sedation before they manipulated my arm back into place. While it was taking effect, some woman came by to collect my insurance information. I went to reach for the wallet in my back pocket and swore when pain lanced through me. I tried to reach it with my left hand, but Tera stood up and quietly worked it out of my pocket, then rifled through it until she found the details. When she was done, she pushed it back into my jeans. She didn’t speak once.

  When the doc came to fix me up, she watched as he rotated my arm at the shoulder joint, grimacing as it dropped back into place. They debated x-raying it again, but in the end decided it looked good enough for me to be sent on my way in the morning.

  “You’ll need to keep your arm in a sling for a few weeks,” said the doc. “And make an appointment with a physical therapist. You’ll need rehabilitation to strengthen your shoulder. He’ll show you a few exercises and . . .”

  “I got this, Doc,” I said, still a little woozy. “I popped my shoulder out once before. It’s all good.”

  He narrowed his eyes at me. “What is it you do for a living, Mr. McCoy?”

  “I’m a roustabout, Doc. I work the carnivals.”

  Tera interrupted, surprising us all, after her hours of silence.

  “He’s lying: he’s really a motorcycle stunt rider. He’s quite famous.”

  The doctor looked surprised, his gaze flicking between us.

  I stared at Tera.

  “What? Nothing to say? No jokes? No funny come bac
k? I’m disappointed,” and she turned away again.

  The doc ignored her outburst; I guess he was used to shit like that in his job.

  “You won’t be able to ride a motorcycle for a while,” he said blandly. “In fact no driving at all—not even an automatic car—for two weeks. After that, you can resume most activities, but avoid heavy lifting and playing sports for three months . . . and motorcycle stunts.”

  I nodded absently, already knowing the drill. I was pissed that I would be letting Kes and Zef down again. I hated not being able to pull my weight.

  The doc gave us a professional smile and told me that a nurse would be by with some pain meds.

  When we were alone, Tera finally looked at me.

  “Are you going to tell me the truth now?”

  I laughed uneasily. “Which one do you want?”

  “What is that woman to you? Other than the mother of your child. Did you come back for her? Why, after all this time?”

  I rubbed my forehead with my good hand.

  “I didn’t know about Scotty, I swear. I wouldn’t have left her to . . . I wouldn’t have left.”

  “Why should I believe you? If that’s true, why did you leave?”

  Tera was still staring at me, waiting for an explanation. I didn’t want to share the ugliness with her. She was too fine, too clean, so much better than all this shit.

  “Things were bad at home,” I said simply. “I didn’t know she was pregnant.”

  Tera nodded slowly.

  “So she told you and you came back.”

  I looked down. “Not exactly.”

  When she spoke again, her voice was soft and full of hurt, but the words cut deeply. “Don’t be shy, Tucker. After all, you’ve had your dick in my mouth and in my pussy—no secrets between old friends.”

  Part of me wanted to remind her that she’d followed me here and I didn’t owe her jack shit. But another part hated that I was hurting her.

  “Why did you come back?”

  “Because of the funeral.”

  Her eyes flicked up. “Is that true?”

  I nodded.

  She pressed her lips together and looked away briefly before her eyes darted away from me.

  “Is there anything else I should know?”

  I was still fixed on Renee and Scotty, so I shook my head.