Tough Talk

by Jessie Gussman

  “It’s just organized by local folks. Guys take their trucks and pull, people pay to see it, and most of the expenses are donated by the organizers and the drivers.”

  “Who benefits?”

  Tough shifted, picking up his silverware again and unwrapping it. “Typically, some driver or puller or someone we know who’s going through a hard time. This year, it’s a fellow with inoperable cancer who has a wife and five kids. They’re doing chemo but don’t have a lot of hope for him.”

  Wow, for a really good cause. “Oh. What can I do?”

  He folded his napkin and carefully pushed the crease down.

  Bemus bustled over and set their food on the table. “Very romantic back here, yes?”

  “It is romantic,” Kelly agreed. Private and romantic. It was definitely the best table in the restaurant. Kelly smiled at him. “The food looks delicious.”

  “Thank you. Eat. Enjoy.” He patted Tough on the shoulder and winked at him before walking away.

  Kelly surveyed the delicious-looking food in front of her before she teased Tough, “Does he do that every time you bring a girl in?”

  “Don’t know.” Tough picked up his gyro. “It’s good food.”

  “You were telling me what I could do at the truck pull.”

  He studied his gyro like he needed to find the key to eat it properly. Finally, he sighed. “I just thought you might enjoy it. It’s for a good cause, but it’s also fun. I thought it might be nice to bring a friend and have a fun day with her.” He lifted his eyes at that last comment, and Kelly was caught again in the dark color that had no bottom.

  “I’d love to.” Her voice sounded husky, and the sultry note had crept back in.

  Tough’s eyes flickered, and he nodded before taking a bite.

  “What time?”

  He finished chewing and swallowed before he answered. “It starts at noon, so we could get some work done in the morning before we leave. Takes an hour to get there. I’d say 10:30. They’ll quit at dark.”

  “It gets cold after dark.”

  He nodded. “That and the fairground doesn’t charge to use their facility if they don’t turn the lights on. Someone usually gives a donation so they open the restrooms.”

  “Will there be food?” Kelly asked. She could pack something.

  “Yeah, someone usually sets up a stand and donates the profits to the family.”

  They thought of everything. “Wow. Sounds like a big deal.”

  “Everyone does something. They donate what they have.”

  Kelly thought of the big charities she worked for and the rich donors they had. Sometimes it seemed like people just threw money and assumed that the work got done. “So everyone pitches in?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So I should do something.” She didn’t want to be standing around with nothing to do.

  “You’re gonna be with me.”

  “That’s enough?”

  His hands stilled with the gyro midair, and his eyes met hers. Her chest tightened, and she realized how their last statements could be used for their relationship in general. Tough didn’t feel like he was enough for her. She’d never indicated any different. Honestly, she wasn’t sure. Was he? Was being with Tough worth giving up everything she’d ever wanted for the thin hope of something better?

  Patrons talked, glasses and dishes clanked, but in the alcove, those sounds faded into the background, and Kelly was hyperaware of Tough’s every breath, shallow and a little fast. The pulse in his neck beat in and out. His left eye ticked.

  Kelly’s throat felt tight, and her ribcage seemed to compress. Tough seemed to be waiting for her to say something, although she’d asked the last question, and she didn’t know what the right answer was.

  She blinked and looked down. The moment passed. She couldn’t give him something she wasn’t sure of herself.

  Chapter 14

  Saturday dawned clear and bright. Tough knew it, because he was outside to see the sunrise. He’d actually been up before the sunrise and finished writing a week’s worth of answers for his now daily column. The increase in income had been greater than he’d expected, and he knew exactly what he was going to do with it.

  As for the “unmasking,” he’d been in touch with his agent. They hadn’t heard anything concrete, but he’d had an idea that might spin things in their direction. Sure, it made him sick to his stomach to think about it, so he decided he wouldn’t. He knew he could handle it if he didn’t allow himself to dwell on it.

  What he didn’t know was whether he did the right thing in answering Kelly’s question. He’d struggled, putting together several answers, deleting each one. A professional, he knew, would have excused himself because of being too close to the situation. He’d considered doing that too. Maybe it’s what he should have done. It wouldn’t be the first time in his life that he’d done something he shouldn’t have.

  He took a sip of his coffee, pondering.

  Regardless, on Monday, Kelly’s question and his answer would be posted on his advice column. It was sure to receive attention, more than usual, since it was the first time he’d answered a woman. The column had started out as a mechanic’s advice column, but he’d been good, better even, at answering relationship issues. There hadn’t been many women. He didn’t feel qualified to tell them what to do, anyway. It was far easier to straight-talk a man. Still, he couldn’t ignore Kelly. Just couldn’t. Even if it was wrong.

  He took a moment to admire the bright orange, yellow, and pink sky beyond the dusty old buildings that lined his street and take a deep breath of the crisp, early morning air. Kelly had agreed to spend the day with him. As a friend, of course. He’d been thinking for a while now that he was probably in love with her. Had probably been in love with her for years, if not since kindergarten. But he couldn’t let on. Couldn’t spoil the day by making her uncomfortable and pushing her away from him. Monday would come soon enough.

  The sky had become more blue than orange, and Tough was about to walk back in when a familiar car pulled down the street. Mr. Millard. Odd to have him out in the middle of the month. He usually showed up conveniently close to the end, and Tough never had to mail his check, but this was definitely an odd turn of events.

  The car slowed to a stop, edging toward the curb in front of Tough. Tough sipped his coffee then moseyed over when Mr. Millard put his window down.

  “Tough, figured I’d catch you up this early.”

  Tough nodded, waiting.

  Mr. Millard tapped the steering wheel. “I just wanted to let you know I’m selling the building. Didn’t know if you’d be interested.”

  Heck, yeah. He was interested.

  “How much?”

  Mr. Millard named the figure, and Tough’s shoulders slumped. Couldn’t afford it. Not in this life.

  “Love to, but can’t.”

  “I figured. Hated to see her evicted, but felt it was fair to ask first.”

  Wait. “You have a buyer?”

  “Yeah. Wasn’t really thinking of selling. But this guy with this string of nightclubs approached me. Guess he saw the “For Rent” sign. He didn’t want to rent, though. Can’t blame him. Anyway, about a week ago, he made me an offer to buy. Good offer.” Yeah. With that kind of money, Mr. Millard could retire to Florida and live the rest of his life carefree. “But the wife said it was only fair to give you the chance to match it. You’ve been the perfect renter for the last ten years. We’ve got other properties, but no one pays the rent like you.”

  Tough nodded, his mind scrambling. Where would he go? What about Kelly and her half-finished renovations? Was she out that money?

  “He won’t be able to kick her out right away. State laws and such. Seemed like a decent guy too. She’s got a few months to find a new place.”

  But where? The economy had caused all the old, empty warehouses to fill up. He couldn’t think of a single place for rent. His heart bled for Kelly and her hopes of having a children’s center here, where so
many of her kids lived. It wouldn’t be easy for either of them to find a place. He didn’t even want to think about the fact that the idea of not seeing Kelly every day was almost worse than losing his garage.

  “I’ll keep my eyes open for you if you want me to.”

  “’Preciate it.” Tough took a deeper drink of his coffee and saw that the orange had completely bled out of the sky. The day had officially begun. And he was officially on notice that he needed to find a new place.

  Wait. “You’re saying ‘she.’ Does he only need one side?”

  Mr. Millard’s bald head nodded. The sun reflected orange off it. “Yep, that’s what he said. My terms were that he had to let you stay and evict the new renter, Kelly. He agreed. Don’t worry. He’s going to offer you a contract. You’re set for the next ten years.”

  “Give it to Kelly.”

  Mr. Millard jerked his head around. “What?”

  “Have him put the nightclub on my side. It’s on the busier street anyway.” Kelly might not be happy about having her children next to a nightclub, but it was probably better than having no place.

  Moving one hand from the steering wheel to his forehead, Mr. Millard said, “I’m not understanding. You’re giving up your side of the warehouse, and you want the new girl to stay?”

  “Yeah.”

  He waved his hand in the air. “You’re never going to find another place. Not around here. Your clientele won’t follow you to a new town.”

  True. Tough though of Mr. Sigel and Al. Of all the elderly folk that came in for free oil changes, tires, and repairs. They were so often faced with the choice of paying their property taxes or having a car, and he liked to think he’d helped many of them do both. But now... He told himself there would be elderly people wherever he found a place. He just hated leaving the ones here that had become his family over the years. But the other choice was even harder. He could never allow Kelly to be evicted while he stayed.

  “No. Kelly stays. Find out from the buyer when he’s closing and tell him I’ll be out the day he wants to move in. Just let me know.”

  Mr. Millard stared at him. “Why are you doing this?”

  “She’s building a place for children to come and be off the streets. For them to be safe, cared for, and out of trouble.” Tough couldn’t allow that to slip from her.

  “But you’ve got people who have been depending on you for years.” Mr. Millard stared at his hands on the wheel.

  “I didn’t ask for that. It just happened.” Which was the truth. The men just showed up, and they somehow stayed. Sure, he paid them some when they picked up parts and even when they didn’t, he tried to slip them something to supplement their social security, but still, he’d never asked for them to come or help.

  “Funny that it hasn’t ‘just happened’ to any other mechanic or body shop I know.”

  “Just make sure that Kelly gets that ten-year contract, okay?”

  Mr. Millard nodded. Tough finished his coffee, bitter and cold, before he walked in to get started.

  KELLY HADN’T EXPECTED there to be so many people at the truck pull. She had been thinking it was just a group of guys getting together to have fun. But the fairground track was packed. Long lines snaked out of the makeshift concession stands, which, instead of hot sausages and cactus fries, had meatballs, BBQ chicken, and chili. Homemade food with the big, handwritten signs declaring it wasn’t expensive, either.

  The grandstands were packed, and men on tractors and a roller ran over the track.

  A little shot of anxiety popped in her chest. Would anyone recognize her? Would Preston be hurt that she didn’t tell him what she was doing? At least not before she was able to talk to him?

  She pushed it aside. These were hardly the type of people who ran in Preston’s circles.

  Her circles.

  She refused to worry about it, even though the number of people here far exceeded her expectations. She was going to enjoy herself today. With Tough.

  As they bumped across an old hayfield in Tough’s tow truck, people waved and called out, then took a second look. It made her smile, the faces of people when they saw Tough had a woman with him.

  “I love how people stare at you once they see me.”

  Tough’s eyes moved back and forth as he maneuvered the truck around several parked rigs and waited for a couple of kids to scatter out of the way. “They’re just wondering how I managed to get enough words out of my mouth to get you in my truck. They probably think I threw you over my shoulder and tossed you in. Don’t be surprised if someone asks if you need to be rescued.”

  She chuckled. “No one’s going to ask that. I think most of them are happy for you. More probably will be once they get over their shock.”

  Tough snorted. He pulled the truck to a stop at the gate where a lady with a money apron took his cash and gave him a ticket.

  Wood smoke, tangy BBQ chicken, and diesel exhaust mixed together and blew in the open window. A fellow in a ball cap wearing worn overalls and work boots, holding a drink in one hand and a meatball sandwich in the other, waved them forward with the meatball sandwich and stopped them next to the track.

  Before Tough could get out, the man hurried over, chewing, and stuck his head in the window. “You mind getting...oh, ’scuse me.” He used his drink to tip his cap at Kelly.

  “Sure,” she said with a smile.

  “Uh, anyway, Tough, you mind climbing on the tractor with the chisel plow yonder? Jeff was on it, but he had to go turn the chicken. Looks to me like he’s dealing with a grease fire too. We need to get this track done.” He swallowed and took another bite which made almost half the sandwich disappear.

  “Yeah.”

  “Does the lady drive? We need someone in the water truck.”

  “She’ll ride with me. Drive the water truck yourself.” Tough softened his words with an eye crinkle.

  The man sighed. “I know. Just won’t have time to eat later, and everything was gone last year ’til we were done.”

  Tough lifted a brow. “Looks like you could skip a few meals.”

  “Shut up. Plus, if I’m not here to park people, it’ll look like a traffic jam ’til I get back.”

  Tough rolled his eyes. “We’ll run the plow.”

  “Thanks.” The guy popped the rest of the sub in his mouth and disappeared from the window.

  Kelly grabbed Tough’s arm. “Won’t he need to give you the keys?”

  “Keys’ll be in the ignition. Unless I need to hotwire it. Then there’ll be a screwdriver somewhere, probably under the seat, in that case.”

  “Okay,” Kelly said doubtfully.

  “Coming?” Tough asked as he hopped out.

  Grabbing her jacket, Kelly stepped out and walked around the front of the truck. Tough, with his ball cap pulled low, his biceps straining his tee, and his worn jeans and work boots, looked good enough to draw a crowd himself. He stopped in front of her. She couldn’t see his eyes through the mirror shades, but his brows bunched.

  “Are you okay? You mind running the tractor with me?”

  “I’ll tell you if I mind.” She tilted her head. “I’m planning on spending the day with you and having a good time. If that means I’m going to do something with a tractor, I’m going to enjoy the new experience.”

  She was rewarded with a small flash of white teeth, which, against his dark skin, made her heart flutter.

  He grabbed her hand, and she followed him with a warm happiness in her heart.

  “You’ll sit here.” He patted the fender over the tire that was as tall as her.

  Keeping a hold of her hand, he put his other hand on her waist and helped her balance as she climbed up the metal steps. Heat flowed from his hand to her waist. She turned on the small platform and squeezed between the seat and the fender, sitting gingerly on the cool metal. He climbed up behind her, squeezed between her legs and the steering wheel, and sat in the springy metal seat.

  “You can hold onto the fender here.” He sho
wed her how she could grip. “The tire’s under it, but you’ll be fine, there’s several inches’ clearance, and that won’t move. I promise.” Another little flash of white accompanied this statement, and although his words didn’t really reassure her, his almost-smile did. “You can hold the back of my seat with your other hand, or you can hold onto me anywhere you need to. Don’t grab the steering wheel.”

  “I think I knew that,” Kelly said.

  “You good?”

  “If I feel like I’m going to fall off, will you stop?”

  There was no hint of humor on his face when he said, “You’re not going to fall off the tractor.”

  “Okay?”

  He took her hand that was gripped on the back of his seat and wrapped her fingers around his arm. Hard, warm, solid muscle. “Don’t let go.”

  She swallowed. Nodded.

  He turned back and focused his attention on the knobs and controls. His hands moved with confidence as he adjusted the shifter and another knob, depressed a pedal with each foot, then turned the key. When nothing happened, he felt around under the seat and pulled out a screwdriver.

  Kelly jumped as sparks flew. A rumble, then black smoke shot out the exhaust on the hood, then the motor roared to life. Tough put the screwdriver back. “Sorry. Should have warned you about the sparks.”

  “Yes.” Her heart settled down, back inside her chest.

  “I’m not going to let anything happen to you.”

  “I trust you.” For some reason she couldn’t explain.

  He shifted the machine into gear and slowly let the clutch out. The tractor bounced into motion.

  After a few passes up and down the track, where she never once felt like she was going to fall off and get plowed into the track, Kelly started to relax and enjoy the beautiful, sunny day. She turned her face to the deep, rich blue sky and the sparkling sun which turned the Appalachian Mountains in the distance an opulent burnt gold. The slight breeze lifted her hair and brought the fresh smell of deep woods to the valley.

  “I feel like a hillbilly, riding like this,” she said to Tough. Her hand hadn’t moved from his arm. As he maneuvered the controls, the muscles under her fingers flexed and bunched, and she figured that more than one girl would love to trade places with her. She felt lucky to be alive on such a gorgeous day and blessed to be spending the day with a man like Tough. It was all icing that they were doing it for a good cause.