Roustabout

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  “My, those are some nasty looking bruises.”

  Damn right—thank your husband.

  She even buttoned my shirt, bottom to top, which was all kinds of weird.

  “There,” she said, smoothing out the wrinkles on my arms and patting my chest. “All done.”

  “Uh, thanks. Thank you, ma’am,” I spluttered.

  “Oh!” she said, a bright smile on her face. “Are you Southern? How charming! I do love a southern accent. Where are you from?”

  “East Tennessee originally, so not really sou—”

  “My daughter was just there with her father. Is that where you met?”

  “Yeah, but . . .”

  “And what business brings you to San Francisco, Mr. McCoy?”

  “I . . .”

  “Or maybe this is just a vacation?”

  “No, I’m . . .” Reeling from all your goddamn questions! I took a deep breath. “That coffee smells d—mighty fine, ma’am,” I said, pouring a cup and smiling to myself as her eyebrows shot up. “TC didn’t tell me that you were in town.”

  “No indeed,” she said, her icy blue eyes fixed on mine. “My visit was a surprise,” and she smiled coolly at me. “In more ways than one.” She took a sip of her own coffee. “I didn’t know Tera had a new friend.”

  I bristled at the word ‘friend’ but tried not to make it look too obvious.

  “You were saying where you met my daughter.”

  No, I wasn’t.

  “Tera’s at work,” I said, hoping she’d take the hint.

  “And you’re not, Mr. McCoy. How nice for you to have some time off. You do work, I take it?”

  Enough of this shit!

  “I’m a motorcycle stunt rider. I work with Kestrel Hawkins, your husband’s son.”

  She blanched and set down the coffee cup, unable to hide the tremor in her hand. But she was a cool customer and placed her hands into her lap, giving a light, silvery laugh.

  “Goodness! What a small world it is. I’ve always thought it must be charming to live with so many people. And such a change to be in a cosmopolitan city instead of all those sweet little towns in the Midwest. And it must be so pleasant for you to visit a lovely spacious apartment like Tera’s. Of course, this is small compared to the house where she grew up. Oh my, she did love to ride her pony across the grounds. Such a lovely environment for a child to grow up in, don’t you think?”

  “I wouldn’t know,” I said, gritting my teeth.

  “No, I suppose not.” Then she gave a fake sigh. “My daughter has had a very privileged life, but she wears it so lightly. She has a gift, the way she can talk to people of any class.”

  My chest tightened at her words.

  “She must get that from her father,” I retorted.

  Her left eye twitched, but the smile stayed on her face.

  “She’s such a homebody, as I’m sure you’ve realized. I’ve always felt that when she meets the right man, she’ll make a lovely mother. But of course, there’s nothing wrong with having a little fun first.” She laughed again. “Oh, forgive me rattling on like that: perhaps you have children of your own?”

  I drank the rest of my coffee and placed the empty cup on the table and didn’t reply.

  “Oh well, I suppose the traveling carnival is a very difficult environment to bring up children. It wouldn’t be fair on little ones, would it?”

  “People manage,” I snapped at her.

  “Yes, I’m sure they do, but Tera can do so much better than just ‘manage’.”

  We glared at each other across the kitchen table.

  “Tera’s a grown woman—she can make her own decisions.”

  “Well, of course she can,” chuckled the Senator’s wife. “But she’s such a soft-hearted girl—it would be so easy for her to be swayed by a hard-luck story. I hate to think of people taking advantage of her. Being a parent, it brings out one’s protective instincts.”

  She ran her eyes over my bruises and the cut above my eye, and I knew without any fucking doubt, she knew exactly who had put them there.

  She smiled, and I could tell that she’d made her point: I was shit and Tera could do better.

  It wasn’t as if that was anything I didn’t know already.

  She glanced at her wristwatch then picked up her purse.

  “Such a pleasure to meet you, Mr. McCoy. Have a safe journey back to the circus.”

  And then she left.

  I slumped in my seat, feeling like I’d just gone ten rounds with Floyd Mayweather’s scarier mom—and lost.

  Tera

  I was in a Tucker-induced daze at work. Good sex will do that to you . . . great sex seems to suck out rational thought completely. And I was speaking from recent experience.

  Which wasn’t good when I was snowed under. My desk was covered in a flurry of paperwork, and I could barely see my computer screen for post-it notes stuck all over.

  My manager, Lorraine, wanted a blow-by-blow account of every meeting I’d been to in Tennessee, demanding reports in full immediately. She was making the point that just because the client was my father, that didn’t mean I could get away with being unprofessional. I didn’t need the lecture, but I smiled through it anyway. Bitch.

  I headed back to my desk to start on the paper mountain. But first, I checked my cell and was dismayed to see two missed calls from Tucker. I was about to call him back when Marie interrupted.

  “You have a visitor in reception, Tera.”

  “What? There’s no one on my schedule. Okay, I’ll go down, I just have to make a call and . . .”

  “It’s your mom,” said Marie. “I got the impression that she doesn’t like to be kept waiting.”

  I groaned. “What does she want? Never mind! I just need to call . . .”

  Lorraine appeared around the corner, chatting animatedly to my mother.

  “You’re on your own,” Marie whispered, disappearing into her cube.

  “Mother!” I said, smiling. “This is a lovely surprise.”

  Her gaze raked over my outfit, from hair to shoes and back again, a small frown on her face that I recognized as irritation.

  “Tera, darling!” She patted my arm and kissed the air beside my cheek. “I do hope you have time to take your mother out to lunch. I’ve found the most divine place overlooking the ocean.”

  I looked helplessly at Lorraine, but she was on my mother’s side; or rather on the side of the wife of one of her most prestigious clients.

  “Of course, Mrs. Hawkins! We can spare Tera for a couple of hours.”

  She saw the annoyed twitch on my mother’s face and interpreted it correctly.

  “In fact, why not take as long as you want—you deserve it.”

  “It’s not even lunchtime,” I muttered, but no one was paying any attention to me.

  My mother scooped me up and a minute later we were in a cab on the way to Benu, an upscale restaurant with a galaxy of Michelin stars. So like her. It used to be like me. I think.

  Once we were settled at the right table, by which I mean not the first, or even second table that the host offered us, but the right one, she ordered herself a glass of champagne and water for me.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “Darling! You’re working. I can’t send you back inebriated.”

  I gave a polite smile. “I don’t think one glass would have done that, but never mind.”

  She returned my smile and squeezed my fingers, her pleasure in seeing me genuine for once.

  “How did you enjoy working with Daddy?”

  I wished she wouldn’t infantilize like that.

  “It was fine, but honestly, he didn’t need me—his team knows what they’re doing.”

  “I’m sure you helped.”

  Why did that sound so patronizing? But I did what I’d been taught to do and simply smiled.

  The drinks arrived and we ordered our food. I was just beginning to feel relaxed when my cell rang. It was Tucker—and I hadn’t returned his
two previous calls either.

  “Aren’t you going to answer that, darling?”

  “Just a work thing—it can wait,” I lied.

  Mom smiled at me.

  “I spoke to Josh Hartington’s mother this morning,” she said. “And guess what? He wants to ask you to the Memorial Day fundraiser in November. I told her that you’d love to go with him! Isn’t that wonderful?”

  I groaned, not bothering to hide my feelings.

  “Mother! I can’t believe you did that! You know I can’t stand him. He doesn’t talk to me, he talks to my boobs . . .”

  “I’m sure that’s not true!”

  “It definitely is! I think he’s waiting for them to talk back.”

  Mom laughed. “You do exaggerate. He’ll call you to arrange the details.”

  I frowned. “No, Mother, he won’t. I can arrange my own dates, thank you very much.”

  “Don’t be petulant. That young man is going places. You’d be a fool to turn him down now.”

  I stilled and forced myself to speak calmly.

  “Regardless of that, I am not going anywhere with Josh Hartington. You shouldn’t have offered me up like some sort of sacrifice.”

  “You can’t turn him down, it will look horribly rude.”

  “Then you shouldn’t have set it up without speaking to me!”

  She patted her lips delicately with her napkin.

  “I’m your mother: I always have your best interests at heart.”

  I sighed.

  “I know you do and I appreciate it, but I’m old enough to make my own choices.”

  “Are you though, Tera? You’ve led such a sheltered life.”

  “Really?” I said briskly. “You think maybe the last year and a half hasn’t opened my eyes to one or two things?”

  “There’s no need to be vulgar.”

  “I wasn’t: I was being honest.”

  She took a sip of her champagne and I knew she was just refueling for her next angle of attack.

  “I dropped by your apartment this morning,” she said, smiling up at me, her eyes glittering.

  I cringed internally, but kept my expression impassive.

  “Oh, yes?”

  “Imagine my surprise when I found a strange man asleep in your bed.”

  Oh no. I took a much needed drink of water.

  “He was tired?” I said lamely.

  Her smile widened.

  “Yes, he did look like he’d had a difficult few days.”

  Delicately put, Mother.

  “Is he a friend of yours?”

  I raised my eyebrows. “No, it’s the new crime wave: naked men breaking into apartments to criminally rumple your sheets.”

  “Don’t be facetious, dear. I was only asking if you had a new . . . friend.”

  I smirked at her. “Yes, I have a new friend.”

  “Such a lovely accent. Tennessee, he said.”

  My smile fell. Oh God! They’d had a conversation?

  “Originally.”

  “Is that where you met, in Tennessee?”

  “No.”

  She seared me with a look. “Where did you meet him?”

  I inclined my head to one side.

  “Why are you so interested?”

  “Darling! You’re my daughter—I’m interested in everything you do. When I find a man in your bed in the middle of the day . . .”

  “Hardly the middle of the day!”

  “ . . . I can only assume that you’re a little more than friends.”

  “We are,” I said, my cheeks coloring.

  “And when were you going to introduce him to your family?”

  Try, never.

  “Or maybe he’s just a passing interest. I would understand,” she said, dropping her voice conversationally.

  Well played, Mother! A body blow followed by an uppercut.

  “I don’t know what we are yet,” I said, peering thoughtfully at my water. “It’s very new.”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Tera Chastain Hawkins! Are you telling me that you just met this person and you’re already sleeping with him? You were not raised like that!”

  “Oh, for goodness sake! It’s the twenty-first century,” I clipped out, stung. “But no, I didn’t say I just met him. In fact I met him in the spring. At my brother’s.”

  Twin red spots of anger appeared on her cheeks.

  “You do not have a brother!” she snapped.

  “I have two half-brothers, Mom.” I spoke as kindly as I could, knowing how much the proof of my father’s infidelities hurt her.

  She drew a breath.

  “So this . . . this Tucker person works at the circus,” she sneered.

  “He’s a stunt rider, yes.”

  She sat upright, her nostrils flaring.

  “What on earth could you see in someone like that?”

  Her voice was tight with dismay, but I sensed that her question was real, too. And I wondered if she’d asked my father the same thing when she’d found about his relationship with Kes’s mother.

  What could I say to her? How could I answer so she’d understand when I barely understood myself?

  He makes me laugh. I enjoy his company. And the other inconvenient truth: He’s hotter than hell in the summer.

  He was beautiful, charming, funny and thoughtful. He didn’t need to be the center of attention, even though attention usually sought him out.

  But when we were alone together, I was starting to crave that brief, unguarded moment when he lost himself inside me, the clown’s mask gone for once.

  There was no way my parents would accept him; no way they’d ever think Tucker was one of us—and truthfully, he was a lone wolf, like a wild creature, did and said what he wanted without a filter.

  “I enjoy his company,” I said weakly.

  My voice trailed off. I couldn’t explain, couldn’t tell her why. Instead of words or explanations, I had memories. Maybe it was the possessive way he settled himself between my thighs, unembarrassed, adjusting the angle of my hips to suit himself, his strong, powerful body pressing over me, pushing into me, his rough hands grazing my flushed and heated flesh.

  I didn’t want soft hands, manicured nails. I wanted a man’s hands, roughened from labor. I wanted Tucker’s hands sliding over my skin.

  “Well, I hope for your sake that this is just a passing fancy,” said my mother, interrupting my increasingly carnal thoughts.

  I glanced up sharply.

  “As I said, I don’t know what it is yet.”

  “Never mind,” she said, patting my hand. “If you don’t want Josh Hartington to take you to the fundraiser, we can find someone else suitable.”

  “I have a date,” I lied. “Tucker is taking me.”

  She laughed out loud.

  “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. Do you really think a man like that would be comfortable wining and dining with the finest families in California? If you like him, as you say you do, it would be selfish to embarrass him like that.”

  I had no words. None. Was she right? Horribly wrong? My thoughts were too confused to tell.

  “Besides,” she sniffed, “he’s barely housebroken.”

  “This conversation is over,” I said, throwing down my napkin and walking out of the restaurant.

  I flagged down a taxi and jumped in, ignoring the driver’s grumpy tone when he bitched about how bad the traffic was in Mission Bay.

  I tried to call Tucker, but his phone was switched off.

  When I reached the apartment, it was silent and empty. The coffee cups had been washed up and the bed remade. For a moment I thought Tucker had left, but I felt my lungs relax when I saw his backpack in the corner, his red helmet perched on top.

  He’ll be back.

  I settled down to wait, drowning in a box of cookies and a gallon of ice cream, a tried and tested solution to a bad day.

  Tucker

  After Mrs. Hawkins cut me off at the knees with her sharp tongue, I sat at the kitchen tabl
e shell-shocked. In her own way, she was just as ruthless as her husband. How the hell they managed to raise someone as sweet as Tera was beyond me.

  Once I got tired of feeling rattled, I cleaned up and called Tera’s cell. She didn’t answer so I guessed she was busy at work.

  When my second call was missed, as well, I began to feel uneasy.

  Maybe this was a conversation that needed to happen in person.

  It was easy to find her name on the internet, and not much harder to find where she worked. I frowned, wondering how safe that was for a Senator’s daughter.

  It took me less than 40 minutes to walk to her office building. I hesitated, staring up at the sleek tower of glass and chrome.

  You don’t belong here.

  I caught sight of myself in the plate glass window and shuddered. Wrinkled shirt, ripped jeans, face marked, arm in a sling—I looked like hell.

  I pulled out my phone to call Tera, but she still didn’t answer. Then remembering that I owned a pair of balls, I walked into the building.

  I flashed my best smile at the receptionist.

  “Hi, I’m here to see Tera Hawkins.”

  “Oh! Was she expecting you?”

  “No, I thought I’d surprise her.”

  The receptionist’s lips quivered as if she was holding back a smile. “It seems to be a day for that.”

  “Excuse me, ma’am?”

  “You just missed her. I’m sorry. Her mom came to take her to lunch, as a surprise.”

  Damn! Her mom had gotten to her first!

  “Can I take a message?”

  I smiled briefly and shook my head, then wandered back out into the busy street. My hand twitched, wanting to call her again, but I didn’t. Instead I headed further into the city until I found a sports bar, the kind of chill place I could relax. Somewhere I could think.

  Tera’s mom had aimed her words straight, the poison tip of the arrow hitting true. She’d pointed out every reason why a guy like me didn’t fit into her daughter’s life. But somehow, in some crazy way, we did work.

  And despite all the times I’d tried to push Tera away, she kept coming back. She’d crashed through all my barriers and forced me to care about her. It was scary as fuck, but I couldn’t ignore it any longer.

  And maybe it wasn’t all bad either.

  She was less serious around me, we had fun, but I was different, too. People change. They grow up. Maybe I wasn’t good enough for Tera, but I was going to try to be the best man that I could. It had started with Scotty and Renee, but for Tera, I’d try harder.