Looking up in eleven year old Tucker Creed’s eyes in his cute boy’s face, I could believe his Daddy was a hero. He was so tall. So handsome. His eyes so pretty. He looked like a hero too. Now I knew what all the older girls at church were talking about all the times, and there were lots, when they talked about him. He was everything they said.
And more.
“
I cannot believe you are SUCH a DICK!
”
I heard the words and my body jerked hard, my eyes flying to the side.
Oh no, the words.
The words were here too.
Suddenly, I felt hands over my ears, my eyes flew back and when they did, all I could see was Tucker Creed.
“
Fuck you, you fuckin’ cunt! Fuck YOU!
”
That was a man. A man and a woman saying the words and gosh, I didn’t know one of them but it sounded a lot worse than Daddy and my stepmom’s.
My eyes slid to the side and I saw them outside the little, rickety house with its gutters falling down. The outside light was on. I could see the paint on the sides of the house and around the windows nicked and chipped. The screen hadn’t been switched out of the side door since summer which was crazy and the screen had come loose on one end, hanging down. I could see the house was a whole lot smaller than Daddy’s and mine. Then again, everyone in town, even me, knew the Creeds didn’t have a lot of money and my Daddy and Granddaddy and all the ones before made certain that everyone knew we did.
I could also see a man and a woman outside in the snow. She was barefoot. He had his jacket on. She was pushing him. He shoved back and she fell on her bottom in the snow.
I gasped.
I just heard the words.
I never saw. Never, never,
ever.
Tucker Creed jerked me around so his back was to the house and I couldn’t see anymore. Then he started walking, fast, making me walk backwards, his hands still covering my ears.
Silently, Bootsie followed us.
He came out like I did. He came out to get away from the words. He came out so he wouldn’t
see.
“You don’t like the words,” I whispered and watched his head move funny, hard, fast, like a twitch.
“The words?”
“Mean words,” I told him as he kept pushing us back.
“
Fuck you, motherfucker!
” the woman shouted. “
You leave, don’t come back!
”
“
I time it right, you got a bottle of Jack in you, you’ll lie back and spread so fast, my head will spin then you’ll spin that tired, used cunt of yours ON my fuckin’ head!
” the man shouted back.
Tucker kept pushing me into the woods, his hands over my ears, clenching kind of tight but not hurting, his body blocking the view.
Then his mouth came to my ear.
“I don’t like the words.”
He didn’t like the words. Like me.
“I don’t either,” I whispered in his ear.
“
Time it for TWO bottles, asshole. That’s what it’ll take for you to get me to spread!
” she screamed.
Tucker kept pushing us back, asking, “You got the words?”
I nodded, his hands moving with my head. “Daddy and his new wife.”
Tucker kept pushing us then he said, “We’re in the sun.”
I blinked.
“What?” I asked.
“We’re in the sun. On the pier. By the lake.”
“
Get off me, bitch!
” the man shouted, I closed my eyes tight but my hands came up, lifting high, I put them over his ears.
“We’re in the sun,” I agreed, seeing it, feeling it.
We were on the pier on the lake in the sun.
Tucker kept pushing me backwards. “We’ll do cannonballs off the pier. My splashes’ll be bigger than yours.”
I kept my eyes shut, kept moving back with him, feeling Bootsie against my leg following us. I was also feeling the sun, the warmth, seeing the lake in my head, Tucker in swim trunks doing a cannonball off the pier.
“No way, my cannonballs are
the best,
” I told him.
“Not as good as mine,” he said.
“Better,” I replied then kept talking in his ear as he kept moving us back. “I’ll bring a picnic. In a big basket. We’ll swim and we won’t wait thirty minutes after we eat.”
“We won’t wait.”
“We’ll jump in right after we eat. Bologna sandwiches. With cheese. And Ruffles, they have ridges. The cheesy kind. We’ll drink as much Coke as we want. Cans and cans of it. And we’ll eat frozen Snickers bars,” I said.
“Frozen Snickers bars. Sounds good.”
“Takes forever to eat them. It’s great.”
“Bologna sandwiches and frozen Snickers bars,” he agreed.
“Cannonballs and sun and water,” I said. “And nothing else.”
“Nothing else,” he agreed again.
“No one else,” I told him.
“Just us,” he said.
“Just us.” I nodded, moving his hands with my head. “And Bootsie, my doggie.”
“And your dog.”
We were moving up the incline I fell down and it made me think things I didn’t like.
I started to shiver.
“I been gone a long time, Tucker,” I whispered. “Daddy might find out I’m gone. He doesn’t like it when I take my walks.”
“Then let’s get you home, Sylvie.”
He knew my name. I didn’t know how. I didn’t care. I just liked how it sounded when he said it.
We’d made it almost to the top, he let my ears go but took my hand, turned me and kept us walking. I heard him give a low, quiet whistle and Bootsie trotted with us.
“It happen a lot?” he asked in a soft voice.
“Unh-hunh,” I answered and felt his hand squeeze mine.
“Your Momma… does it –?” I stopped talking when his hand squeezed mine again and he answered, “Yeah. Lots.”
I didn’t like that. I didn’t like the words for me. I didn’t like them for him either.
I squeezed his hand back.
He kept walking me toward my house.
“You know where I live?” I asked.
“Everyone knows all about the Bissenettes,” he answered in a way that was kind of funny. A kind of funny that didn’t feel good.
I didn’t say anything.
We kept walking, Bootsie at my side and we did this a long time.
Then Tucker asked, “You go out when it happens?”
“Unh-hunh,” I repeated.
“He ever catch you?”
“Yeah,” I whispered and the word was shaky but his hand gave mine another squeeze so I knew he knew why my voice was shaky. That squeeze made me feel better.
I saw the fence that surrounded our backyard in front of me and Tucker was leading me to the gate.
He didn’t say anything more until we got there. I thought he’d stop and I’d just go in but he stopped and didn’t let me go. He tugged my hand in a gentle way, like when I tugged at Bootsie when I wanted to pet her and she wasn’t close enough to me.
I liked it.
I looked up as he turned into me.
“Next time you gotta get away, Sylvie, you come to me.”
My breathing felt funny.
“What?” I whispered.
“It gets bad, you gotta get away, you come to me. I’ll take care of you.”
I stared at him.
“What?” I whispered again.
“We’ll talk about the lake and cannonballs and how I’m gonna buy you orange sherbet push-ups from Merlin’s store when summer comes.”
Oh wow.
I
loved
orange sherbet push-ups. They were
the best.
I had this feeling, deep, deep in my belly that Tucker buying them for me would make them better.
“I’ll freeze Snickers bars for you,” I promised.
“Sounds good. I like Doritos. Cool Ranch.”
“Okay. Ruffles for me. Doritos for you,” I planned.
“Yeah,” he agreed.
“Yeah.” I nodded.
I stared up at him and felt my nose sting even as I heard my voice come out in a super, super quiet whisper.
“You’ll take care of me?”
“My Dad said you always got something if you’re not alone. We were alone. Now, we’re not alone.”
That thing deep in my belly felt funny but it also felt nice.
“I don’t like being alone,” I whispered.
“You’re not anymore.”
That felt nice too. Nicer than my birthdays. Nicer even than Christmas!
I nodded.
His hand gave mine a squeeze. “Go in. Be careful.”
I nodded again.
“Happens again, Sylvie, my room is on the right side, first window at the back. Just knock on the window. I’ll hear you.”
I nodded again.
“Don’t let them see you,” he whispered.
And I nodded again.
His hand gave mine a squeeze before he let me go.
He opened the door of the gate and he did it super slow, being careful and I was thankful.
I started through, Bootsie at my side, and looked back at him.
I smiled.
He smiled back.
Wow.
It was the most beautiful thing I ever saw.
Then I slipped through the door, Tucker closed it slow and careful behind me and I did what I would do normally but also what Tucker told me.
I got in and to my bed and didn’t let them see me.
Winner Takes All
Present day…
I opened my front door and smelled garlic.
Fuck.
Seriously?
I turned, tossed my keys on the table beside the front door, pulled my gun and holster out of my belt at the back, set it on the table and moved to the left into my living room.
A huge, tan leather duffle was sitting, gapping open on my couch.
Fuck.
Fuck!
Seriously?
My eyes moved around the room and I saw the ashtrays had been cleaned, the beer bottles and dirty dishes cleared away and even the throws on the couches folded. My eyes moved up and I noted the wonky, hot pink, star-shaped fairy lights I had wrapped around my mantelpiece in disarray had been straightened and artfully draped.
They looked awesome.
Shit.
I stalked the other way, through my dining room, which still had the mess of magazines, newspapers and mail that had accumulated for the last month (maybe two) on the top of my dining room table. I stalked through the room even though, over the opened bar that delineated it from the kitchen, I saw Creed at my stove, his back to me.
“Uh, partner, I’m thinking I missed a memo,” I stated.
He twisted at the waist to look at me.
“You feed your cat once a day?” he asked and I stopped opposite the bar and planted my hands on my hips.
“Yeah,” I answered.
“She says two,” Creed informed me.
Shit. He spoke cat. This was not good. Gun knew
all
my secrets.
“Don’t let her bullshit you,” I ordered. “Though, if she’s been good, when I get home she gets five cat treats.”
“What constitutes bein’ good?”
“She’s breathing.”
He threw back his head and burst out laughing, the heady gorgeous sound of it filling the space, bouncing off the walls, slamming into me so hard, it made my legs get weak.
Therefore, I stalked to the fridge to get a beer.
“You like ziti?” Creed asked as I yanked open the fridge door.
“Yeah, I like ziti,” I answered, closed the door coming out with a beer in my hand and went on. “What I don’t like is your bag on my couch. What’s the deal?”
He continued to stir sauce as his eyes came to me. “The deal is, we got a job to do and to do it we gotta get close with zero time to find that. So we gotta find the time to find that.”
“How ‘bout I eat your ziti and we put together a puzzle and find it before you leave and find a hotel room?”
“Too late,” he replied. “Went over to meet Charlene and the kids, tell them I’m here, gonna be here awhile, I know about her situation and I’m on call if she needs anything. She seemed excited and not just ‘cause she needs the help. Apparently, she’s worried about your way of life and thinks you’re gonna die lonely. Also, her bathroom faucet is dripping. Something’s rattling in her car. And that motherfucker who left her didn’t switch the storm windows out to screens before he hauled ass, it’s hot and she can’t afford to run the air conditioning. So tomorrow, I’m gonna be busy.”
I stood completely still, staring at him and waiting while I made the superhuman effort to keep my head from exploding.
This took a while and Creed kept stirring the sauce even though his eyes didn’t leave me.
Once I ascertained my head wasn’t going to explode or, more aptly, I wasn’t going to attack and indulge in an attempt to break his neck, I whispered, “That was not cool.”
“I work and I don’t fuck around when I do. There is no cool and uncool in a job. You do what you gotta do,” he returned.
“You didn’t have to do that,” I shot back but did it still whispering.
“I disagree,” he replied.
“Explain,
exactly,
how that was okay.”
“This was Arizona, you’d be deep in my life. You know the shit I care about, the people that mean something to me, you’d do what you can to make certain I didn’t get taken away from any of it. That’s how it’s okay. You had a partner, his wife and kids are still a part of your life. You get me,” he told me.
“I have your back. You have my word on that so you don’t need that shit.”
“Now I have your back for more than the fact I don’t wanna see anything happen to you but it’s deeper. Way fuckin’ deeper and you know exactly how. They’d suffer and they’d suffer huge if you weren’t there in the morning. So, shit goes down, no matter what it is, I’ll bust my ass to make sure you’re there in the morning.”
Fuck.
Fuck!
He made sense. It was Asshole Invasive Sense (yes, meriting capital letters) but it was still sense.
Jesus.
I put the bottle cap edge to the counter, slammed the butt of my palm on it and the cap went flying. I ignored it and threw back a hefty pull.
When I dropped my hand, I knew he knew he’d won because he asked, “Anything on Nick?”
I gave in by answering, “Nothing except I’m shocked to find Nick Sebring is boring.” I rounded the bar, putting needed space between Creed and me. “His brother could be sitting and writing a letter and he’d be fascinating to watch. Nick. No. He’s got a desk job, works it, went home, made dinner, put on the game. That’s it.”
“So I take it tomorrow you’re switchin’ to Nair,” he surmised.