Roustabout

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Part of being a good politician is knowing which battles to fight, so Dad just smiled and waved for us to lead him inside.

  The apartment was much smaller than the one I’d had in San Francisco, but it was light and airy and within my budget. Tucker had made little impact upon the décor, shrugging when I asked his opinion on colors or fabrics, seeming bemused by my questions.

  The most obvious sign of his inhabitance was a set of racing leathers hanging by the front door like a sloughed off skin.

  I watched my father taking it all in, his eyes resting on Tucker’s leathers before moving to the small, framed photographs hanging on one wall. His eyes softened as he gazed at a picture of him with my mother and Arnold Schwarzenegger at some political rally. Next to it was one of Kes and Tucker flying through the air, mid-stunt; and finally, a photo of Tucker sitting on the Duke with me leaning into him. I loved that picture.

  He stood by the window, his hands in his pockets. I knew he wouldn’t sit down, because in a power negotiation, the person standing has more influence than the person sitting.

  I perched on a bar stool and Tucker stood behind me so I could lean against his firm chest.

  “How are you?” Dad asked. “You look well.”

  “I am, thank you.” There was an awkward pause. “How’s Mom?”

  “Busy,” he smiled. “The usual. But I meant what I said—she misses you.”

  “I’m not going back,” I said firmly. “Not to Minnesota or San Francisco or D.C. . This is my home now.”

  Dad looked across at me, his eyes intense.

  “It wasn’t a wise decision to move down here,” he began. “And I know you took a pay cut.”

  Tucker shifted behind me and I knew I’d be answering questions about that later, as I’d omitted to pass on that particular fact.

  “It was the right decision and my new job offers plenty of potential,” I said calmly. “Besides, I don’t want to work with politicians anymore.”

  Dad flinched minutely. “You have a Master’s degree in Political Science,” he pointed out. “What use will that be to you if you stay where you are?”

  I raised an eyebrow. “You’d be surprised how many actors go into politics.”

  He gave a small smile, conceding that I’d won that point.

  I folded my arms. “Why are you here, Dad?”

  He pursed his lips. “May I speak candidly?”

  “That would be a nice change.”

  He gave an amused chuckle. “Old habits. I want you to come and work for me. Not as an intern, but as a paid member of staff. You’d have your own office, a six-figure salary, and . . .”

  “Dad, stop. I’ve already told you. It’s a great offer, but it’s not for me. I’m happy here.”

  He shook his head, disappointment written on his face.

  “You can do better than this, Tera,” he said, looking over my head at Tucker. “So much better.”

  I felt Tucker tense behind me.

  “Thank you for the offer, Dad, but the answer is no.”

  He stared at Tucker again.

  “Is this what you want for her? Earning a fraction of the money she could, living in some non-descript suburb, waiting around for a guy who performs in the circus?”

  “Dad!”

  Tucker laughed.

  “Do I think I’m good enough for her? Hell, no. Do I want her to give up her life to follow me around the country? No fucking way. But whatever she wants, I’ll break every bone in my body to give it to her.”

  Hearing his words, so certain and sure, my heart expanded.

  My father snorted with amusement. “It’s so easy for you to say the words, isn’t it? But I know your type: you’ll never be satisfied with just one woman.”

  Tucker stood up straight and walked around to stand next to me.

  “You’d know about that, wouldn’t you, Senator? Having more than one woman? Kestrel’s mom wasn’t enough for you. So you had Tera’s mom, too.”

  My father’s eyes flashed angrily and he surged toward Tucker.

  Tucker just grinned and held his hands away from his sides.

  “We gonna throw down now, Senator? That could be interesting: one on one, without your goons to back you up. I’ll give you a tip: my right shoulder is still fucked. That’ll give you an advantage. Come on!”

  “Stop it!” I yelled, pressing both hands on Tucker’s chest and pushing him backward. “There’ll be no fighting! Do you hear me? Both of you?”

  Tucker smiled and winked at me, but my father looked furious.

  “For God’s sake, Tera! He’s barely more than a circus clown! Is that what you want out of life?”

  “Yes.”

  He put his hands on his hips and shook his head.

  I expected Tucker to look triumphant, but his face was hard.

  “Why do you hate the carnival so much, Mr. Hawkins? Is it because you were too chickenshit to travel with Kes’s mom when you had the chance? Too scared to follow your own road?”

  I threw a surprised look at Tucker, but it was my father’s bitter expression that caught my attention. His shoulders slumped and he looked torn.

  “Maura was . . . different,” he said slowly. “You can believe me or not, but I did care about her. But I also had responsibilities to more than myself. My family had expectations, and I cared about that more.” He shrugged. “Maura would never have given up the carnival—she didn’t know any better.”

  I shook my head sadly.

  “And my brothers?”

  He sighed. “They’ve grown into fine men.”

  “Both of them?”

  He gave me a small smile. “Yes, both of them.” He paused. “I heard that Kestrel saved a child’s life.”

  I felt a warm glow at his words, however much I’d forced them out of him.

  “How’s Ollo?” he asked.

  This time I couldn’t help my smile. “Doing better. Thank you for asking.”

  He nodded. “I’m glad. Ollo’s quite a character.”

  I walked toward my father and he hugged me tightly, wrapping his arms around me.

  “I’m not choosing the carnival, Dad. That’s what you don’t understand: I’m choosing Tucker. He’s a fine man, too. And I love him.”

  My father blinked, then closed his eyes.

  “I know. But I had to try.”

  My father left soon after. He and Tucker were never going to be going out for beers together, but I hoped that they wouldn’t be inclined to punch each other either.

  “Are you okay, sugar?” he asked, pulling me onto the sofa so we were snuggled up together.

  “Yes, I am. Actually, I’m really good. Thank you for not hitting him.”

  Tucker laughed lightly. “I didn’t think you’d let me sleep with you if I beat the shit out of your father.”

  I tickled his ribs and he yelped.

  “Still think you’re getting lucky tonight, mister?”

  He looked at me seriously. “I feel lucky every night, sugar. Every damn night.”

  We were saying goodbye to our friends.

  Zef was taking the rig up to Arcata, then flying east to see his on-again/off-again girlfriend, Mirelle.

  Kes was driving the RV with Aimee and Bo, and Luke and Zach were going with them to start work on their own cabin.

  I could tell that Tucker was torn: he’d promised to help his friends, but our relationship was still so new, we wanted to spend time together, as well.

  We’d discussed it and decided together that we’d give ourselves two weeks, then Tucker would go up to Arcata and help with the groundwork and ordering supplies. He’d spend four days a week working on the new cabin while I went to my job in LA, then we’d spend weekends together. It wasn’t ideal, but both of us were learning the meaning of a new word: compromise.

  “You guys are welcome to come for Christmas,” Aimee offered. “So long as you don’t mind sleeping in the RV,” and she threw me an amused look, knowing that I wasn’t overly fond of it.r />
  “Thanks, Aimee, but we’re kind of thinking that we’d like to have Christmas just the two of us.”

  “Yeah,” said Tucker. “I want to see my girl in her Christmas stockings.”

  Kes threw an apple core at Tucker’s head. “That’s my sister you’re talking about, asshole!”

  Tucker laughed and pulled me against his firm chest.

  “Your brother has issues,” he said in a loud whisper. “Maybe he isn’t getting any.”

  Aimee spluttered, her cheeks going pink.

  “You’ll pay for that McCoy,” she threatened. “And it so isn’t true!”

  She whispered something to Kes and his frown disappeared instantly.

  Zef rolled his eyes. “We gotta hit the road. Lot of miles to travel.”

  I stood up and gave him a quick hug, then kissed Zach and Luke, while Tucker did the man-hug-shoulder-slap thing.

  We watched as Zach and Luke’s truck disappeared from the near-empty fairground, the rig following behind. Zef shouted something obscene at Tucker, who grinned and gave him the finger.

  I could see that Kes was impatient to get going, too.

  “Look after yourself, sis,” he said, pulling me into a hug. “Let me know if anyone needs his ass kicking, ‘cause I’m the man for the job,” and he shot a hard look at Tucker, who just grinned at him.

  Aimee quietly offered her own highly individual advice for keeping Tucker in line, which made me laugh and made both the guys frown as they wondered what was being said.

  I hugged her, agreeing that we’d visit over New Year’s. Then I bent down to kiss Ollo on the cheek.

  “You’re family, Tera Hawkins,” he said sincerely. “Don’t forget that.”

  “I won’t, I promise.”

  His words made me misty eyed and I felt a tightness creep into my throat.

  Tucker knelt down and hugged the little man, nodding at something Ollo whispered to him. Then Tucker held Bo in one arm as he helped Ollo into the RV, situating Bo on the bench seat. Then Aimee and Kes jumped in, and the massive engine started with a rumble.

  Finally, Tucker and I turned and waved as the RV bounced across the ground, small dust clouds churning up beneath the huge tires. Tucker watched until they were out of sight, a slight frown on his face.

  “Are you sorry you’re not going with them?” I asked tentatively.

  Tucker gave a small smile and wrapped his arms around my waist, resting his forehead against mine.

  “My home is where you are, sugar. I don’t have any regrets about that.”

  My man. My beautiful man with his rough hands and loving heart. My man was a roamer, a roustabout.

  And he was staying here with me.

  Tucker

  I’d never lived in a house that had bricks before.

  Tera’s new place was the top floor of an old colonial that had been divided into apartments. It had a yard with flowers and a white picket fence.

  A picket fence.

  I think having the Duke parked outside might have spoiled the homey image, but I was good with that—so was Tera.

  No one knows what shit life is going to throw at them, except maybe spooky ole fortunetellers like Madame Sylva. You don’t know when you’ll meet someone and suddenly you’re traveling in a different direction. It could be today, tomorrow. It might even have been yesterday and you just don’t know it yet. Like me and Tera.

  With everything that had happened between us, from those early, stolen kisses to the moment I admitted that I loved her and everything in between and since, I learned one important fact: it’s okay not to have all the answers.

  There was nothing about us that matched: she was from money, and I’d grown up dirt poor; she had a Master’s degree and I was a high school dropout; she was a vegetarian and I liked burgers and steaks; she liked having manicures and girly shit, and I had motor oil under my nails. Hell, the woman even voted Republican—we had nothing in common, except Kes, I guess. She didn’t even love the carnival the way we did. There was nothing about Tera and me that should have worked, but somehow, we did. We just fit.

  Being with her was a giant slice of happiness—that woman was my own starlight, someone who could brighten the darkest night. How did a penniless roustabout get to be so damn lucky? Time was precious. Life was precious. I wanted both with Tera.

  She loved me and she held my heart. There would be times when there were miles between us and the hours would pass slowly. There would be bumps in the road and sometimes we’d lose our way, but always, always, I’d find my way back to her, my pole star shining in the dark.

  Everything else? All the problems that life would throw at us? We’d figure it out along the way. Somehow.

  Together.

  THE END

  “Love all, trust a few, do wrong to none”—this is one of my favourite sayings. Oh, and ‘Be Nice!’ That’s another. Or maybe, ‘Where’s the chocolate?’

  I get asked where my ideas come from—they come from everywhere. From walks with my dog on the beach, from listening to conversations in pubs and shops, where I lurk unnoticed with my notebook. And of course, ideas come from things I’ve seen or read, places I’ve been and people I meet.

  I love watching ballroom dancing on TV. I tried to learn Salsa once. My dance partner, Edwin said to me, “Stop marching and stop leading! You’re supposed to look sexy.” So I shall stick to writing about dancing, surfing, having adventures, and impossibly hot men, and imagine that I can do the box splits and then leap to my feet with the grace of a young gazelle. Yes, in my imagination. Because that’s what writing means to me—a world where I can be anyone and do anything. And when you read a book, so can you.

  Don’t forget to look for bonus chapters for some books on my website and you can sign up for my newsletter.

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  To my stellar editors Kirsten Olsen and Trina Miciotta, and cover designer Hang Le—my wonderful power of three.

  To Mary Dunne for saying, ‘Hey, what if Tucker and Kes’s sister got together? That would make a great story!’

  To the real Tera Chastain, for letting me take her name in vain. But ya know, she got to sleep with Tucker!

  Thank you Stalking Angels. You know how much you mean to me and you never let me down.

  Sheena Lumsden, Audrey Thunder, Tonya Bass Allen, Lisa Sylva, Tera Chastain, Mary Dunne, Nikki Costello, Ashley Jones, Kelly Findlay, Sarah Lintott, Lisa Smith Reid, Lily Maverick Wallis, Andrea Flaks, Kelsey Burns, Celia Ottway, Rhonda Koppenhaver, Caroline Yamashita, Lelyana Taufik, Aime Metzner, Nancy Saunders Meyhoefer, Helen Remy Grey, Heidi Keil, Bruninha Mazzali, Kirsten Papi, Gina Sanders, Gabri Canova, Melissa Parnell, Dina Farndon Eidinger, Evelyn Garcia, Nicola Barton, Jacqueline Showdog, Elle Christopher, Carly Grey, L.E. Chamberlain, Marie Mason, Trina Marie, Kim Howlett, Ellen Totten, Jen Berg, Shirley Wilkinson, Ana Kristina Rabacca, Emma Darch-Harris, Emma Wynne Williams, MJ Fryer, Drizinha Dri, Rose Hogg, Barbara Murray, Beverley Cindy, Megan Davis, Jenny Angell, Mary Rose Bermundo, Clare Norton, Andrea Jackson, Rosarita Reader, Sarah Bookhooked, Fuñny Souisa, Luiza Oioli, Megan Burgad, Lisa G. Murray Ziegler, Krista Webber, Carol Sales, Crysal Ordex-Hernandez, Dana Fiore Stusse, Jade Donaldson, Paola Cortes, Natalie Townson, Hang Le, Erin Spencer, Raquel Gamez, Nycole Griffin, Kandace Milostan, Ana Moraes, Sharen Kallenberger Marzola.

 

 

 
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