by Frost, Sosie
“You son of a—”
Tidus answered the phone, put the call on speaker, and held it above my head. He was a rat bastard, and he knew it. I answered as cheerfully as my scowl permitted.
“Hi, Daddy. Can I call you back?”
It was a chickenshit way out, even I knew that. I hadn’t talked to Daddy all weekend. Wasn’t sure what I’d even say. Certainly not the truth. All he’d wanted was for me to get my business up and running, to take the truck out, to join the barbeque circuit. Maybe enter a couple contests.
But now, the only place my truck could enter was a junkyard.
“Honeybee!” Daddy always greeted me was a smile. “Don’t tell me I woke you up? What did I teach you when you were a little girl?”
I grimaced. Tidus loved every second of this.
“The meat doesn’t smoke itself.”
“That’s right,” Daddy said. “How was your first weekend out? Are you up in Ironfield yet?”
Tidus winked. I couldn’t reach the phone, but I could kick him in the balls. I mimed the motion, but he coughed almost loud enough for Daddy to hear. I winced.
Great. The man claimed he didn’t lie, but he was perfectly fine with blackmail.
“Not in Ironfield yet, Daddy,” I said. “I’m in a little town called Butterpond. I’m gonna set up camp here for a bit.”
“Really? That soon? Must have found something tasty there.”
Tidus flexed.
I shook my head. “Nope. Nothing good here. Just scraps and bone.”
Tidus held his hand over his heart, mocking an injury. Something told me he’d been hurt a hell of a lot worse in the past.
Daddy mumbled into the phone as he clattered a pot onto his stove. “You know, I was thinking about that citrus…”
I covered my face. The damned citrus. He could add as many drops of lemon juice as he wanted to the sauce, but it wouldn’t get him first prize at the Brawl-B-Que. The problem stemmed from the recipe itself. It tasted great…but it wasn’t the best.
Not that I’d ever tell him.
“I heard of this you-zoo fruit. It’s Asian. Not an orange, not a lemon. Got a real kick. We should try that.”
I sighed. “Where are you going to find a yuzu fruit?”
“The Internet.”
“Momma’s gonna kill you.”
“She doesn’t have to know. She was saying the other day that I need something to do. She’s got her scrapbooks. I got my cooking.”
“You’re supposed to be retired.”
“Who can retire when there’s yuzu fruit to try?” He laughed. “I know, I know. I promised to pass on the wooden spoon to you. But I still remember when you were little and misbehaving, and that spoon whacked your tushy.”
I groaned.
One conversation. One conversation where nobody mentioned my tushy.
Was that so much to ask?
Tidus immediately rifled through my drawers. Didn’t have a spoon at his disposal, but he found another toy. He smacked a spatula in his hand with an eager smile.
Hell no.
“Daddy, I’m a little busy right now. Can I call you back later tonight?”
Daddy chuckled. “Oh, that’s my busy little Honeybee. Working hard. Gotta get ready. You only have a couple weeks until the Brawl-B-Que.”
I wasn’t sure I’d survive until breakfast, let alone the competition. “I’ll be ready.”
Dad’s enthusiasm was contagious. “It’s gonna be tough as nails, Honey, but I wouldn’t want to be caught between you and that blue-ribbon, that’s for sure. A girl like you, with the world at your feet? Believe me. All you’ll need is a thick cut of brisket, a marinade that’ll knock their socks off, and that truck. You’re on your way to big things, Honey. You have no idea how proud I am.”
I reached for the phone. Tidus showed mercy and handed it back. I left the call on speaker, if only to prove what a Daddy’s girl I was.
Even if all I said were lies.
“If I had a truck when I was your age, nothing would’ve stopped us,” he said. “Traveling like that, letting other people sample our food. We could have had franchises, not just one restaurant.”
I wouldn’t let him speak ill of the business. “That restaurant got us through just fine.”
His voice lowered. “Sure. But we had more than our fair share of rough times. All I wanted to do was make life easy for you. Send you to college. Get you the education you deserved.”
I rolled my eyes. “You know I only ever wanted to do barbeque.”
That didn’t make him any happier. “And you could have barbequed after culinary school. You could have become a chef. Worked at some fancy pants restaurant in Ironfield.”
“The only restaurant I ever wanted to work at was yours. With you.”
Tidus made a face and turned, fleeing from the sweetness. I followed him, sticking close to his heels as I crossed the garage and into his office.
“You know I just want the best for you, Honey.” Daddy was never shy in admitting it. “If I can do anything to help you, you let me know.”
My throat closed. Tidus gestured towards the wrecked truck. I shook my head.
“You’ve already done everything for me.” I cleared my throat, chasing away the words that might’ve escaped, asking for his help. “I’ll call you later. Say hi to momma for me.”
“Love you,” he said.
“Love you too, Daddy.”
Tidus waited for me to end the call, shaking his head.
“Don’t even ask it,” he said.
Too late. I was going for it. “You have no idea how important this food truck is to me.”
“Are you kidding? I just caught a front-row seat to an afterschool special set in my garage.”
“This food truck is my life now,” I said. “But it means even more to my father. He had his hopes pinned on winning the Backyard Brawl-B-Que. he’s tried for the past twenty years, but the closest he ever got was third place. He never said it, but it broke his heart. How wouldn’t it?”
“You know what they say,” Tidus said. “Don’t cry over spilled milk or ground chuck.”
“This isn’t any old meat.”
“Sorry if I offended.”
“You did.” I crossed my arms. “Fortunately, I forgive easily.”
“Especially when I’m needed to fix the truck.”
I was going to leave that unspoken. “A first-place prize guarantees a certain amount of recognition. If we had won the grand prize, the Finger-Lickin’ Ribbon, the world would have known about our restaurant. People would have traveled from all over the country just to eat there. We never would’ve struggled. Not even once.” My voice softened. “Daddy couldn’t win it, but…”
“You think you can win the finger-fucking competition?”
“Finger-Lickin’ Ribbon. And yes. I know I can. Daddy is a great cook, but I think I’m better, if only because he already taught me everything he knows. I can win this competition, but I can’t get there if my truck is a crumpled wreck.” I groaned. “I will not let this be a repeat of the Summer of Shawarma or the March Macaroni and Cheese Madness. I am going to win it this time. I won’t rest until I do.”
Tidus searched through the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling a bottle from under a pile of papers. I expected the rest of the six-pack to follow, but the label turned just enough for me to read.
Mineral water?
Hadn’t expected that.
“Honey, I’m gotta be honest,” he said. “I can’t work on the truck without money. I’m not running a charity here.”
“It’s not like I’d never be able to pay you.”
He nodded. “Oh sure. Tell me more about your father’s failing restaurant and how this competition is your only way to make it big.”
I stiffened. “My big break is just around the corner.”
“No, your brakes fell off of your rusted-out food truck back on Main Street. You’ve got nothing, Honey. And now I’m stuck babysitting Daddy’s
little girl.”
He intended it to be the end of our interaction, but I wasn’t a good conversationalist. I’d tried to learn for years at the restaurant, but people didn’t like to talk with their mouths full. Wasn’t polite.
I followed Tidus into the garage, dodging old tires and grimy rags. “Stop calling me that.”
He grabbed the keys to the sedan parked in the bay next to my truck. “What? Daddy’s girl?”
“Yes.”
“Told you I don’t lie.”
“It’s not what you’re saying. It’s how you’re saying it. What’s wrong with being a Daddy’s girl? Never heard someone talk to her parents before?”
“Not like that.”
“What, affectionately?”
His eyes met mine. “Yeah.”
He might’ve been the most infuriatingly vulgar man I’d ever met, but he was also the saddest. I’d expected him to break my heart, not tear it to shreds.
It wasn’t my place to ask, but that never stopped me. “What is your dad like?”
Tidus grunted, practically ripping open the sedan’s driver-side door. He yanked the release for the hood, and I worried he ripped the mechanism from the car.
Apparently, the engine was more entertaining than me. Tidus didn’t look up as he surveyed the sedan’s components.
“My father’s dead.”
And that made me an idiot. I pinched my eyes shut. “Oh, Tidus. I’m so sorry.”
He answered too quickly. “Don’t be. He was an asshole. I’m glad to be rid of him.”
Tidus fiddled under the hood, grunted, then retrieved a dolly to wheel himself under the car. At least he had something to do to avoid the conversation. I was stuck attempting to weave my fingers into knots.
He was glad his father was dead?
Imagining something happening to Daddy scared the bejesus out of me. Scared Momma too. That’s why she encouraged him to either drop the grill tongs willingly, or she’d forever sheath them in a place where the sun didn’t shine.
I shrugged. “I’m sorry you feel that way.”
“That’s the good thing about being a bastard—don’t have to piss and moan about the asshole who raised me. He didn’t want me, but Mom always got her way. Should have blamed her, but I was an easier target. Bruised better.”
“Oh…”
“Believe me, Honeybee, I’m better off alone.”
That didn’t make it right. “I…I can’t imagine being without family.”
Tidus grumbled from under the car. “I’m not without family. I got plenty of that.”
“Really?”
“Five brothers. One sister.” His tools scraped against the engine. “And a handful of other kids lived on the farm over the years. Foster kids.”
“Your parents took in foster kids?” I leaned over the car, peeking through the wires and grease.
“If anyone needed a home.”
I shifted, attempting to pluck a leaf off the engine block. My arm nudged a wrench. I yelped as it tumbled through the machinery. Tidus swore as the metal tool clattered on his forehead.
“Sorry!” I caught a second wrench before it followed the first. “You okay?”
He grunted.
“Doesn’t sound like your father was that bad of a man,” I said.
His voice hardened. “He wasn’t to them. Just to me.”
I tip-toed around the car, but Tidus suddenly wheeled out from beneath. The dolly clipped my ankle, and I stumbled to the ground.
Fortunately, Tidus broke my fall.
He wheezed as my elbow dug into his ribs. I managed to avoid castrating him with my knee, but the dolly couldn’t handle the impact. The wheels shot off and sling-shotted across the room only to ricochet against the car tire and pop back to smack Tidus in the chin.
“Careful!” He snapped, but he didn’t yell. Couldn’t imagine him yelling. Not when he used the truth as a weapon. “You okay?”
I rolled off him with a frantic apology. I handed him two of the dolly’s wheels. The others were lost to the cobwebs.
“Are you hurt?” I asked.
Tidus didn’t want to answer, even as he clutched the finger that had been pinched under the dolly. Instead, he held it up for me to see.
HIs middle finger did, indeed, look a little angry red.
His frustration boiled over. “What are you still doing here?”
I was asking the same question myself. “Why would your father only be cruel to you?”
“Jesus Christ.”
“I’m just curious.”
“Gonna torture it out of me?” He snorted. “Look. It doesn’t matter. He’s gone. I’m here. And now I’m the fuck-up he never wanted me to be. Always liked subverting his expectations. Might’ve failed at life, but I consider it a victory over him.”
Yikes. “That doesn’t sound very healthy.”
“Never took care of myself before. Why would I start now?” He patted the dust off his jeans and kicked the dolly from his path. “Get out of my garage.”
I didn’t budge. “Is there anything I can do to convince you to work on my truck? Anything at all?”
“Is that a threat? Gonna toss another wrench at my head?”
“That was an accident. I’m being serious. Name your price. Anything.”
Tidus didn’t hesitate. “Kiss me.”
“Be serious.”
He waved towards the door. “You’re free to leave.”
“Now you want me to go?”
Tidus scowled. “If you don’t start removing clothes, I’m gonna kick you out of here.”
I laughed. “Just a minute ago, you wanted me in your bed.”
“That was when I wanted my balls drained. You’ll make ‘em black and blue.”
“What about busted?”
“Not into that.”
So he said. “You know, I think you would love to have someone riding you.”
“Riding me, yes. Deriding me, no. I get enough of that from my family.”
“But you enjoy it.”
He focused only on the car. “Who would like that?”
“A man who doesn’t get any attention otherwise.”
He snorted. “You’re supposed to roast meat, not me.”
“Well, it’s obvious. You’re what? Thirty years old?”
This displeased him. “Twenty-eight.”
“And you’re still acting out?”
His frown deepened. “And you’re still in my garage?”
“Just tell me what you need to work on my truck.”
“Cash.”
I shrugged. “How about a nice, homemade dinner instead?”
“I’d rather eat you.”
I pointed at him. “Let’s get one thing straight. I’m not gonna sleep with you to fix my truck.”
He didn’t bother looking at me. “A man can dream, but I don’t expect a goddamned thing. I’d feel like a total asshole if I took advantage of a good girl like you.”
“You wouldn’t be taking advantage of me.”
“I take advantage of everyone, Honey. The sooner you realize it, the better off we’ll be.”
The last thing I needed was this man giving me any lesson of morality. “I never would’ve expected someone like you to think they were wiser than everyone else. But you actually think you’re better than other people.”
He wagged a grease-coated finger at me. “No. I know I’m much worse.”
And there was that sadness again. I didn’t believe him. I couldn’t.
Sure, he was an asshole, and yes, he seemed absolutely miserable, but he was smart. He saw things. Knew things about people. Hell, he read me so easily was like he saw a right into my soul. He deserved to be somewhere far outside of Butterpond, doing good things and earning good things in return.
But instead, he stayed in a place he obviously hated just to rot from the inside out. And the strangest thing was, I had no doubt that he had done it to himself.
I settled onto a stack of old tires and cros
sed my feet, staring at him. “I don’t get you, Tidus.”
“And I don’t get why you don’t call Daddy to fix all of this.”
I would do everything I could to avoid it. “Have you ever wanted something so badly you do anything for it?”
“Like sex?”
I rolled my eyes. “Aside from sex.”
“No.”
“Be serious.”
He gestured around the garage. “I am. What else do I need? I got a job. Got walls around me. I’m not dead in the gutter. Things are looking up.”
“There’s gotta be more to your life. Something that motivates you. Keeps you moving forward?”
“Like what?” He said. “Doesn’t matter if I’m drunk or sober, alive or dead, getting laid or not. All I need is the basics. Money. A job to keep me busy. A woman who gets into bed easier than you.”
“What’s missing?”
“You tell me.”
“Love.” I nodded towards my truck. “And barbeque. But mostly love. I can offer you one of the two.”
“The way to this man’s heart is blocked. You better take the direct path right to my cock.”
“You’re not even looking to find love?”
“What kind of question is that?”
I hesitated, meeting his eyes. “Do you even love yourself?”
Tidus pitched a tool to the floor, running a hand through his hair. “Jesus Christ, Honey. At this point, I will pay you to get out of my damned garage.”
He was hopeless. I surveyed the garage, finding a broom abandoned in the corner. The place was dusty, grimy, and definitely neglected from under use. Not exactly a booming business. I swept a bundle of dust bunnies across the floor, towards the bay doors.
“At least you’re comfortable being sad,” I said.
Tidus spoke through gritted teeth, trying to focus on the car in front of him. “Fuck me. I’m not sad. I’m a realist.”
“Then what does that make me?”
The mound of dust and dirt was bigger than my head. I scrunched my nose and pressed the button to open the garage his bay doors. Tidus yelled, but it was too late. The door squealed, shuddered, and only opened halfway before the electricity flickered and the chains ground to a halt. The garage plunged into darkness, and a variety of dangerous hissing sizzles popped from the fuse box.
Tidus counted to ten but only made it to five. He pointed at me with a grunt. “You can’t pay your bill, and you want to put me out of business? Christ, woman. Don’t touch any shit around here. The garage’s wiring is all fucked up. You blew every fuse.”
