Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One

by Adam Knight

Dark slacks with heeled boots, a purple low necked sweater just off one shoulder with a matching belt. Her hair loose in that intentionally messy kinda way.

  Yeah.

  Hot.

  “What?” She asked, catching me staring.

  I cleared my throat as the perpetual train of embarrassment continued. “I was just wishing I had a grown up wardrobe hidden somewhere in my closet.”

  After I had frantically made some soup and salad for Mom the pursuit of appropriate dinner attire went into overdrive down in the basement. After disregarding every item that could be mistaken for jeans, tee shirts or basically anything I ever wore on a regular basis I emptied my entire closet onto the bed and frantically rifled through clothes that hadn’t seen the light of day in years.

  So of course, nothing fit right. Not even close.

  I settled on an old pair of brown slacks that must’ve been from my fattest days (seeing as how I almost never need a belt) and a black collared shirt that I was terrified would rip at the seams when I squeezed my shoulders into it. Even if I had thought about wearing a tie my neck would’ve prevented it.

  But it kinda made me look like I had muscles, so it was worth the discomfort.

  So long as I didn’t move too suddenly.

  Cathy’s dimples re-appeared. “You look fine. Even if you stole that shirt from a seventeen year old boy’s closet.” Her eyes twinkled as she said it, taking away the sting.

  I shrugged very slightly, feeling the material pull in the middle of my back. “Yeah well, I didn’t have time to go shopping.”

  “Where do you shop, anyways?”

  “Wherever’s on sale, usually.” I admitted wryly, giving myself the once over. “I might actually have been seventeen the last time I wore this.”

  Cathy laughed again.

  I couldn’t remember the last time I had been out for something as simple as a quiet dinner with friends.

  It was nice.

  Made me feel good. Relaxed.

  “So, thank you.” Cathy said suddenly, inclining her wine flute towards me while her other hand motioned to the restaurant around us. “My boss - asshole that he is – surprised the hell out of me today by calling me at home. Which is why we’re out tonight, celebrating.”

  “We’re celebrating a boss call? That’s rarely fun.”

  “You’re telling me. When that happens I usually end up coming into work. I hate the weekend shift.”

  I stifled a sigh, thinking about what my weekends usually were filled with.

  “But he surprised me. Can you believe he actually complimented me on my extended piece?”

  “That’s great.”

  “I thought so too. Sure, he was a prick about it.” Cathy scrunched up her face, deepening it as far as she could make it go and added in a husky smoker’s rasp. “Dammit, Greenberg now I need a new weather girl.”

  “Wait, he fired you?”

  “Nope. He moved me to the Investigative Team.” Cathy beamed proudly, almost dancing in her seat. “Can you believe it? I am finally an Investigative Journalist!”

  My mind flashed back, seeing a younger and less fancily attired version of Cathy sitting across from me in Mr. Cox’s journalism class. The face was a bit rounder. Her eyes less jaded. But the eager and excited expression was identical.

  “It’s about damned time, missy” I said quietly, bringing my coffee mug to her wine flute with a clinking-thunk sound in salute. “I always knew you’d make it.”

  Her smile was brilliantly white and genuine.

  I hoped mine didn’t look sad.

  The waiter retuned and Cathy saved my hurting wallet by politely declining the dessert menu. I took a complimentary coffee refill.

  “How can you drink that so late at night?”

  I checked the display on Cathy’s smart phone from where it sat on the table. “It’s only eight-thirty.”

  “When are you going to sleep?”

  “When I’m tired, I guess. It’s not like I need to work tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, I guess not.” Her eyes became penetrating and pointedly avoided looking at where I’d been shot. “How are you feeling?”

  Good question.

  “Good and bad,” I replied non-committedly, rubbing at my chest unconsciously with my free hand. The scarring felt noticeable through my shirt but not ridged or painful.

  “How so?”

  I grimaced. “Sleeping’s rough. Dreams. That sort of shit.” I drained my coffee, debating on what I wanted to say. What I wanted to admit to. What I wanted to admit to myself. “I got no regrets, but things are weird now.”

  “Weird?”

  “Yeah. I’m used to working. And working out. Having free time to rest and relax is odd.” Having things blow up on me is odd too. Wait, who said that? Shut him up! “It’s a bit of a lifestyle change.”

  Cathy smiled lightly, her eyes twinkling. “You don’t think you deserve a rest?”

  “Maybe I don’t want a rest. Might force me to think about things. I don’t like thinking,” I lied as I glanced around the restaurant. All the fancy people enjoying their fancy dinners. Seeing them all made me feel like such a poseur, trying to fit in. Something that I never wanted to do.

  “What?” She asked following my gaze.

  I grunted softly. “Just thinking I shoulda met you back at Sal’s.”

  “I told you I can cover the bill.”

  “No, not ‘cause of that.” Not just because of that.

  “What then?”

  “It’s just …” I was at a loss for words.

  Cathy leaned towards me conspiratorially. “This isn’t your scene.”

  “Fuck, no.” I laughed, quite relieved. “It sure as hell isn’t.”

  The waiter came by with the bill and a perfect smile. Cathy tried to reach for it and I cut her off by gently grabbing her hand and giving her the mildest version of my death stare. It took a few moments but finally she relented. A few seconds later I realized I was still holding her hand and released it abruptly, grabbing at the bill guiltily. Hoping to bury my teenaged flush in the teeny tiny paper worth more than my water bill.

  “Sorry,” I muttered, cueing up one of my trademarked funny voices. “Don’t want anyone running to Captain Max and giving him the wrong idea.”

  The silence, she did get awkward.

  I looked up at Cathy, found her staring down at the folded hands in her lap.

  “Did I say something wrong?”

  She shook her head, but hesitated before she did.

  “No. Not really.”

  The Neanderthal in my belly started to stir, growling possessively.

  “Are you sure? ‘Cause if there’s something going on I don’t care what he means to this community I will be more than happy to …”

  “No, nothing like that.” Cathy broke in assuredly, waving off my sudden overprotective urge with a smile.. “Max is a perfect gentleman.”

  I waited for her to elaborate. She didn’t, so I prodded. “But?”

  Cathy grimaced and sighed, looking around the room. Clearly paranoid about eavesdroppers “Max is a perfect gentleman. And everyone in town knows it.” She motioned to the surrounding restaurant vaguely. “Every single person here knows who Max Poulin, Captain of the Winnipeg Jets is and what he means to this City. His dedication to the team, his charity work and his career is second to none.”

  I thought about that for a second, frowning.

  “And that’s a problem?”

  She gave me a frustrated look and took a deep draught from her wine before continuing. “You wouldn’t think so, but it is. Just when I started getting used to being recognized for my work on CTV – even only as the weather correspondent – suddenly all I am known for is being Captain Max’s girlfriend.” She shook her head with a sigh.

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Neither do I,” Cathy admitted ruefully, swirling the last of her wine dejectedly in the crystal flute. Her pursed lip dimples were back in full force. “It shouldn’
t bother me that other women give me jealous eyes, or send spiteful emails to my boss because I’m dating him. It shouldn’t bother me that when Max and I are out in public other women will try to hand him their phone numbers and give me catty looks.” She sighed again, staring down at her wine. “It shouldn’t bother me that other media types and officials – never mind friends and family – try to lean on me to talk Max into taking part in their personal pet projects.”

  I waited for her to continue, but she appeared to have talked herself out.

  “But it bothers you.”

  “Damn right it does.” She laughed bitterly.

  I suck at relationships.

  I suck worse at relationship advice.

  Especially when I might have jealousy issues.

  “So why date him?” My voice might’ve been a touch cold.

  She flushed slightly. Guiltily. As if realizing where she was and who she was talking to. “Because he is a perfect gentleman. Polite. Respectful. Successful. Handsome as it gets. Great in … Any woman would be lucky to have him.” Cathy’s gaze drifted off slightly in some sort of memory, the happy dimples on her face appearing though the smile seemed less mirthful this time around. A slight flush rising in her cheeks.

  Yeah, I really wanted to hear that.

  So it must have been the Neanderthal in my belly who spoke next.

  “Plus,” I said pointedly, my poker face firmed up by my faintly bitter tone of voice. “Dating him is good for your career.”

  Cathy blinked, her eyes snapping back to mine. Anger and guilt all in one glance.

  I met her gaze unflinchingly even as I peeled off a number of bills to leave for the waiter. My poker face up at full power as conflicting emotions swirled in my brain.

  “Yes.” Cathy admitted quietly, he face flushed for an entirely different reason now. “Yes. There’s that too.”

  The Neanderthal in my belly roared with triumph, but thankfully the rest of me was in control and was wise enough to feel shame.

  Chapter 21

  “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

  “The truth is rarely uncalled for, Joe.”

  “Not in my experience.”

  We stood up from the table and I motioned to the waiter to collect the tab. I tried to move gingerly as my shirt was definitely becoming uncomfortably tight across my chest and back. The way my luck had been going I was terrified that the buttons would burst over my belly and give the patrons staring down their noses a show they’d never forget.

  I helped Cathy with her coat and held the door on our way out. You don’t have to be a hockey team Captain to have manners you know. My grandmother would’ve been proud.

  It was chilly outside, hovering just above freezing so the roads were wet and slightly slick. There was very little traffic, given it being a Sunday evening and the downtown festival series had yet to get started.

  I walked Cathy to her Passat with my hands jammed into the pockets of my battered, leather bomber jacket. Part of me felt like a complete idiot, regretting my words and petty jealousy while the rest of me was pleased. Shitty ending aside this was the best night out I’d had in months. Maybe years.

  We got to her car and I stepped back, letting Cathy open the door herself. I plastered my small smile on my face.

  “Thank you,” she said sweetly. Possibly sadly. “I really was going to treat you. I really owe you for helping me out.”

  “You don’t owe me anything,” I said gently. But firmly. I gave her a guilty grin. “It was great to get out. To see you again.”

  She smiled faintly, maybe a touch sadly. “Yeah. It was nice. Let’s try not to wait twelve years between visits anymore.”

  “Sure. I’ll try not to be an asshole when talking about your relationships in the future.”

  Cathy’s dimples showed in her smile, though her eyes were definitely sad now. “You weren’t an asshole, I promise. Just maybe a bit too honest.”

  “Yeah. I suck at that.”

  “It’s not a bad fault to have, Joe.”

  “I’ll remember that during my next job interview. That questions’ always a stumper.”

  She broke into a genuine laugh.

  It made me feel better.

  Moments later she was safely in her car, giving me a small wave and driving away. Leaving behind a trail through the wet and slightly slushy streets. I turned to walk to where my van was parked all the while hoping I hadn’t screwed things up with her.

  Naturally after hauling my fat ass into clean clothes I had been behind schedule. So all of the good parking spots immediately surrounding Portage and Main were taken. Not wanting to circle the block endlessly I chugged my rusty old beast over to a side street along Waterfront Drive, just past the warehouse theatre district. It was a bit of a hike, but I knew for certain I’d find parking there.

  A short walk for an easy parking spot? No problem.

  Which of course meant it had to rain.

  Good thing I didn’t have a cell phone or it would get ruined.

  Small mercies.

  It didn’t pour or anything, but it was definitely rain. And since it was cold the water stung as it hit my skin and slid down my neck and back. Basically slush falling right out of the sky.

  Suited my mood. Cold and gray.

  I swear I am my own worst enemy sometimes.

  My boots squished as I plodded along the sodden sidewalk, reminding me that it was time for a new pair. No traffic drove by so I was thankful for that. Didn’t need to get sprayed by street water while getting soaked from the sky.

  Why do I have to push everyone away? Cathy was trying to be nice, to reconnect. And there I was practically slapping her in the face for sharing the stresses her relationship and her job put on her. That’s what friends do, moron. They share.

  Ahead in the distance I could see the outline of my van, tucked away off Waterfront Drive. There were several abandoned warehouses along here from back when this had been a central shipping port. Many of them were in the process of being refurbished into office buildings and the like as part of a downtown renewal project. But at this time of night there wasn’t much going on, which made it an ideal place to find parking. Especially for my huge old van.

  Everyone in the world has problems, Joe. Just because you can’t see your way clear of your own issues doesn’t mean that other people have it easy. You used to be a sensitive guy who gave a shit about other people. What happened to that guy?

  The back of my neck started to tingle, I rubbed at it absently as I walked. Trying to wipe away some of the water trickling down there was a futile gesture, more was just going to come slopping down. My teeth ground together as I walked and continued my self-flagellation. Berating myself for how I’d treated Cathy and for how miserable I perceived my own life to be.

  Then I noticed that the back door to my van was wide open.

  I blinked and stopped in my tracks, mentally coming out of my reverie. My senses heightened and the familiar rush of adrenaline made its first appearance in two weeks.