Mean Tucker- the Bully

by Edwina Fort

  “Okay, but you’ve put a lot on my plate tonight. I need to process everything.”

  Finally, he began to step back. “Yeah, of course. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Goodnight, sweetness.”

  When he shut the door, I exhaled. Not wanting to run the risk of him changing his mind and coming for my door handle again, I started the engine and got out of there. As I drove home, I pondered over his words. Could it be true? Had Angie threatened to stand in the way of Dillion’s hospital getting the Pullman grant?

  Could she even do that? I know she could wreak havoc with a small private practice like mine, but could she really cause trouble for a mega hospital like Dillion’s. Michigan General was no small-fry and although they like me, depended on several grants along with patient insurance to keep their doors open, they had some of the best doctors in the world on their staff.

  Surely, Angie’s reach didn’t go that far. Then again, maybe it did. I remember when I was fourteen and Angie, my father, and the twins had been invited to a small fundraising dinner for President Clinton. Of course, they left me at home, because Angie said dinners like that wasn’t for the children of hippy whores. She would never allow their image to be so tarnished.

  Anyway, the twins gushed for weeks about what it was like to have dinner with the Clintons' daughter and how she’d asked them about a pair of shoes they both owned, and how Angie had later sent her a pair, which she wore at her father’s second term inauguration.

  I’ve seen Angie destroy powerful people. Maybe Dillion had a point about being afraid. But still, he could have warned me that this was happening, instead of allowing me to get sucker-punched with it the other day.

  When I made it inside my home, I kicked off my shoes right there at the door and collapsed on the couch. I wanted to go upstairs to my bed, I really did, but I was too tired to go any further. I think I will just lie here for a few moments and then drag myself up to the shower.

  Yeah, that was a good plan…

  However, when next I opened my eyes, the sun was shining bright through the window. I sat up on the couch and looked at my watch.

  “Ten-thirty…Wow!" I didn't remember closing my eyes. You ever been so tired your body just shut down on you? I think that's what happened last night.

  Actually feeling rested, I stretched on the couch like a cat. That thought brought a smile to my face. When I was a little girl, my mom would tickle me while I stretched, calling me her little kitty cat.

  I missed my mom. She was such a good woman, so kind and loving. She dedicated her whole life to giving to those less fortunate than her, which was amazing because she wasn’t rich, not even close. But she had a giving heart and didn’t mind sharing her last piece of bread with someone that needed it.

  Still sitting on the couch where I crashed, I looked around my home and exhaled. It’s time for me to explain the book house to you guys. The book house belonged to my father’s mother, who was also a psychiatrist. I’d never met her. She was killed by one of her patients when I was three. I don’t think she was a very good woman, but I’ll tell you more about that in a sec.

  My father never sold her home. In fact, he didn’t do much with it at all. I found out when my dad’s will was read that the house had been passed down to me. At first, I didn’t think anything of it. At that time, I hadn’t planned on coming back to Michigan at all.

  But after I’d finished my last year of residency, it became clear that I could save money by living in the house that I already owned, which was how I ended up back here. Granted starting a private practice in the Oakwood Heights area had been fairly easy, due to all the programs that had been set up to bring life back to Detroit. And yeah, a lot of that, Angie had begrudgingly helped me with.

  Anyhow, when I first stepped foot inside the old home, it was to find books everywhere. Nearly every wall was a bookshelf filled with them. The basement and the attic were filled with boxes of books. I’ve been trying to go through them all just to make room for other things, like furniture. Obviously, my late grandmother didn’t care about things like that. Most of her medical journals I kept, but I’ve donated a lot of the other books to the local libraries.

  Because my work schedule is always so hectic, I’m moving at a slower pace than what I’d like. But I’ve managed to work my way through the basement, first floor, and the second floor with only the attic still left to do.

  I pulled myself off the couch and up to the shower, after which I dressed in a pair of jeans and a button-up shirt, preparing myself to begin my journey through the attic, where most of my grandmother’s personal medical records were. I’d intentionally saved the attic for last, the things that I’d found in those records so far had been frightening.

  She’d been a psychiatrist for the United States Army during the time of Vietnam. I’d read through a few of her case studies already and was completely horrified by what I saw. My grandmother worked under a doctor named Baxter Silva, who specialized in behavior science. They worked with a group of soldiers that had returned from the war with severe cases of PTSD.

  My goodness, the things they had put those soldiers through were the things of nightmares. I told myself just to toss the files in the trash, but because I’m a glutton for pain, I have to know what came of the studies. So, with coffee in hand, I headed up to the attic to begin my journey into the deranged mind of Dr. Baxter Silva.

  The sound of my phone ringing brought me out. I looked at my watch and was surprised to see that it was nearly 4:00.

  “Wow!” I’d been so drawn into what I was reading, I didn’t even notice that my stomach was empty and protesting loudly.

  My grandmother had kept all these records behind her boss’s back. More than once, she wrote that if they, whoever they were, knew she was documenting the things that she had, she would end up dead. And from what I’d read so far, I can see why. I’d seen movies with stuff like this happening but would have never thought these things could happen in real life.

  I was just reading the case file of a female patient that was code-named Daisy. She was their youngest patient at only sixteen. Daisy’s parents had brought her in to see my grandmother because she told her parents that she’d been having visions about the end of the world, and they thought the child was losing her mind.

  However, bringing her in to my grandmother was the worst thing they could have done for their daughter. Dr. Baxter and my grandmother put that poor girl through hell—

  The sound of my phone ringing again brought my thoughts to a halt. Oh well, I will have to pick this up later. I will fill you guys in on whatever new information I find out, although I'm a bit afraid of what else is in the file. I just pray Daisy made it out alive.

  Anyway, I quickly shoved the files to the side and hurried downstairs. Because I was still thinking about Daisy, I forgot to look at the number before I said hello.

  “Hello…”

  “Hey, beautiful…”

  I nearly groaned at the sound of that deep baritone coming from the other end. My knees gave out and I collapsed on the bed as all thoughts of mind control, LSD, and Vietnam fled my mind to be filled with the image of a chocolate Adonis.

  “Hey!”

  I could have kicked myself for how breathy that sounded. Clearing my throat, I tried again.

  “How did you get my number?”

  Naphtali chuckled. “The phonebook.”

  I grinned. “You got my cell phone number out the phonebook?”

  “Listen, Doc,” he said, clearly changing the subject. “I got bigger problems. I’m out here trying to do what my doctor suggested and I’m running into roadblocks.”

  “What kind of roadblocks?”

  “Well, nobody will allow me to adopt a kitty because they think I’m going to go home and cook it or some sh*t! I kid you not. I went to three different shelters and every one of them are being ran by captain save a damn cat, that takes one look at me and instantly shut it down. The last one I went to threatened to call the cops on me fo
r cruelty to animals.”

  I put my hand over my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me laughing at him.

  “I told the crazy cat lady, I am a f*cking cop and pointed out the fact that I couldn’t be cruel to an animal I didn’t even have yet. Do you know what the psycho told me?”

  I cleared my throat again so that he couldn’t hear my laughter. “No, what did she say?”

  “She said she was pressing charges for whatever future cruelty I had planned. Can you believe that sh*t?”

  “No, I can’t. That’s crazy…”

  "Yeah, it is. If you want this thing to happen, then you're going to have to come and get the f*cking cat for me. I’ll meet you at Coney Island over there on Lafayette. All that cat shopping has made me hungry.”

  And then the phone went dead. I stared at it for a moment, trying to figure out what the hell just happened. No way I was going anywhere with him. I turned on my phone to call him back but then paused.

  Was this his way of trying to get out of my little torture show? Did he know that I would refuse to go with him, so that he could say, well I tried?

  “Oh, I don’t think so, buddy!” Nothing will stand in the way of my revenge. I grabbed my keys and headed out.

  Twenty minutes later, I pulled up at Coney Island to find Mean Tucker dressed in black jeans, a black t-shirt that hugged his muscled body beautifully and a pair of Timberlands, leaning against his truck with his ankles crossed, waiting on me.

  Gracious, the man could have been posing for a photoshoot with how good he looked standing there. I glanced down at myself and wished that maybe I would have changed into something else. I still wore the clothes I’d put on to clean the attic. My hair was still in the bun from yesterday, but because I hadn’t touched it up, more than a few strands had escaped to frame my face. Dang it! I have to look like something the dog dragged home.

  “I didn’t think you were going to come,” he said as he watched me approach him. His gaze slowly raked over me, making me more conscious of the fact that I looked a mess.

  I grinned. “I bet…but here I am. We don’t want anything to stand in the way of your success, now do we?”

  He chuckled as he held the restaurant door open for me. “Yeah, whatever. Let’s grab a bite to eat first.”

  As soon as I walked into the restaurant, my stomach started doing happy flips. Unfortunately, I was going to have to disappoint it because there was nothing and I do mean nothing on this menu that didn’t go against my diet.

  “What can I get for you?” the cashier asked.

  Tucker shoulder bumped me. “Doc, go 'head and order first."

  I narrowed my eyes at him. Although he didn’t shoulder bump me to the point that I fell down like he used to do when we were younger, it was enough to remind me how big of a jerk he was.

  And…

  I don’t know, for some reason, that took away a little of the nervousness I felt about being here with him, made it feel more familiar if that makes sense. I rolled my eyes at him and looked back toward the menu.

  “Do you guys have salads?”

  “Yeah, we got the Coney Salad, you want any meat on it?”

  I shook my head. Coney Island was known for their fatty meats that taste like heaven but added the pounds instantly.

  Tucker turned to face me, leaning his back against the counter. I had to stop myself from doing the cowardly thing and taking a few steps back. This position brought us closer than I was comfortable with. And let me tell you, having his complete attention like this always made me feel like my insides were going to turn into jello. I felt warm all over.

  “Come on, Doc, order some real food. When did you turn into one of those girls that nibble on carrot sticks in front of the sexy guy?”

  I held my head back and had a really good laugh at that. “Sexy guy? What sexy guy? The only thing I see is my childhood bully.”

  He put his hand on his chest. “First of all, I’ve changed. You can’t keep bringing up the past. I’ve been born again.”

  That made me laugh even more. “You’ve been born again?”

  With a sexy grin on his face, he nodded. “Hell yeah, I have. I’m a new man. I’ve turned over a new leaf.”

  I narrowed my eyes at him again. “I don’t believe you.”

  “That’s okay. I’m going to show you. I’m so gentle these days they’ve threatened to fire me from the force for my gentle nature when handling the drug dealers. Can you believe that?”

  The casher eyeballed Tucker before making a sound in his throat that said he clearly didn’t believe it. And neither did I. Biting my lip to keep from grinning too hard, I shook my head.

  “No, I can’t believe that.”

  “Wow, Freebie…You’re really hurting my feelings.” My gaze came to his and for a moment, I was drowning in his intense gaze. This new Tucker was a threat to my system. I was prepared to deal with the jerk from high school, the boy that I grew to hate. However, that was not who had come back. A man had returned, and I must say that I don’t quite know how to handle him.

  He’d called me Freebie. I didn’t think he remembered that name. During senior year, we took a class trip to the zoo with our little buddies, the kindergarten class from a neighboring school. We had to take them around and show them a good time. My little buddy couldn’t get my name right, so instead of calling me Free, she called me Freebie the whole time.

  And of course, Tucker heard her calling me that and he started calling me that for the rest of the school year. I don’t know what possessed me to put my hand on his massive chest and pat it, but that’s exactly what I did. And yes, it felt as good as it looked.

  “Something tells me you’ll be alright.”

  He put his hand over mine, holding it to his chest and I gasped at the unexpected feel of his warm palm covering mine.

  “I pray I’ll be alright. Come on, let’s order some food, I have the munchi—” he caught himself. “Ur, um… appetite. I have a very big appetite.”

  My laughter escaped my lips before I could catch it. “Oh my God, Tucker! Are you high?”

  His gaze went to the cashier, who was now openly eavesdropping on our conversation, before coming back to mine. “Me? High?”

  Instead of answering my question, he began to order a bucket load of food. By the time we sat down at the table, the only thing I could do was stare at it in amazement. He had three chili-cheese dogs, that was spilling over with toppings, an extra-large order of chili cheese fries that was big enough to feed a small army, a corn-beef melt, and a large chocolate shake that all looked mouthwatering. Sitting in front of me was the sorriest salad on this side of heaven.

  “Wow! That doesn’t look good at all.” He muttered dryly.

  I shrugged. “It doesn’t matter. I’m on a very strict diet, and what you have in front of you looks like it should come with a defibrillator.”

  He shook his head as he lifted the corn-beef melt that oozed with cheese and took a massive bite before closing his eyes and groaning as he chewed.

  “Strict diet you say?” His gaze fell to my pathetic salad. “That looks like a bland disaster. Kinda like yo’ boy… Dillion.”

  My fork paused on its way to my mouth. I couldn’t help but wonder if he’d heard that Dillion and I dated. Even though he’s been throwing digs at my ex since high school, I opened my mouth to argue against what he’d said but changed my mind. Why the hell would I stick up for Dillion’s cheating behind now? Instead, I ate the bite of salad and yeah, he was right, it was a bland disaster. But I’d rather go blind than admit it to the likes of him.

  I pointed my fork at him. “This looks like self-control. Maybe you should take notes.”

  He held his head back and barked with laughter before surprising me by lifting his sandwich to my lips.

  Turning my head, I waved the heavenly smelling temptation away. “Get that thing away from me!”

  “Come on, Freebie, take a bite. You know you want to taste my beef girl.” And then he rubbed his
sandwich against my lips.

  Chuckling at his vulgare play on words, I shook my head. “No! I don’t!”

  “One little bite won’t hurt your strict diet. What are you even dieting for? You look amazing.”

  Don’t you grin, Free…Don’t you dare!

  “And I want to remain that way, so get your beef away from me!”

  “Not till you have a taste… Just one.”

  So yeah, this new playful Tucker that was obviously the result of him smoking marijuana, wore me down until I finally took a massive bite out of his beef. And Oh-My-Goodness! It was the best tasting thing to ever touch my tongue!

  “And you have to taste the dog,” he said, bringing the chili cheese dog to my lips. It smelt so good. I guess one little bit won’t hurt.

  I am so ashamed of myself. After opening Pandora’s Box, I ended up falling deep into the rabbit hole and didn't come out until I'd consumed a chili-cheese dog, half of the beef melt, a good number of fries and half of the chocolate shake that had been made with real chocolate ice cream.

  When I was done, the only thing, I could do was sit back in my chair and unbutton my pants. I can’t remember the last time I’d been so full. Tucker sat across from me. He too sat back in his chair staring down at the empty plates on the table.

  “Damn, Freebie! I sure hope your counseling skills is better than your self-control. Sh*t, you had to have gained at least 5 pounds. Shame on you for breaking your strict diet like that.”

  My angry gaze shot across the table at him. The jerk had the nerve to wink at me before he erupted in laughter. I don’t know what happened to me. One minute I was sitting there in control of myself and the next, a screech of rage left my lips before I was up and out of the chair chasing him out of Coney Island.

  When he saw me coming for him, the bastard’s eyes widened before he flew out of the chair, laughing at me the whole time.

  “That one right there. That’s the one,” I said, pointing to the homeliest kitten I’ve ever seen in my life.

  Both Tucker and the young lady from the animal shelter frowned at me in confusion.