Renegade

by Shannon Myers

  Tanker surfing.

  That had been her big challenge. We chartered a boat for over six hundred dollars to take us out a few miles, chasing after ships in the channel. I’d convinced David to come out with me, only to try to back out when we pulled up and saw Patrick/Roy waiting with Sadie.

  It turned out that his first name was Patrick and his last name was Roy—I only discovered this when the driver of the boat introduced himself as Captain Roy…Patrick’s dad. He was actually an alright guy and had been running chartered tours like ours for decades. He spent a long time going over the safety instructions before we ever left the harbor and I lied, saying that I was an experienced surfer.

  Ten hours later, I was cursing my big mouth. I’d been battered by wave after wave all fucking day. I think Captain Roy had caught on to my lies a few hours in. I’d gotten an earful from him on how I was putting everybody in jeopardy, including him, every time I went down early. I guess with all the ships crossing, there was a chance of his boat getting swamped or pulled into the ship’s current.

  I’d sucked down a bottle of ice cold water while nodding at the appropriate times. Patrick, Sadie, and David had all managed to get a few hundred yards in each run, while I rode after them in the boat with Captain Roy.

  This was my wave though—David had tried giving me a few pointers each time we got back in the boat together and I think I finally had it down. If I ever wanted to see Sadie naked, I needed this to go well.

  When the wave reached me, I jumped up into a low squat, using my arms to steady myself. Once I realized I wasn’t going under, I stood up straighter, just keeping my knees slightly bent, with my right leg leading. I wanted to throw my fists toward the sky, while giving a war cry, but I needed to keep my arms still to avoid wiping out.

  After a few minutes, I knew I had it and tentatively raised one arm in the air. I hoped Sadie was seeing this—she had to go out with me now. David let out a whoop from a few yards behind me and I grinned. I’d gone at least a few hundred yards, which was the longest I’d ever stayed on a board.

  “You’re nothing but a kook, Sullivan, and Sadie ain’t going anywhere with you!” Patrick’s words caused my jaw to clench and the smile to leave my face.

  I turned on my board to find him, only realizing my mistake when the wave forced me underwater. I’d lost my balance because of that asshole. Pain shot through my right calf and my vision blurred as I pushed my way back up to the surface.

  Patrick was already a good twenty yards ahead of me by the time I broke through the water. It had pummeled me all day, but this wave had been like a brick wall. My leg throbbed and I tried stretching it out as I waited for Captain Roy to circle back around with the boat. Maybe I’d torqued a muscle when I fell. I pulled myself back up onto the board and that’s when I saw it—my lower leg was bleeding heavily—the wave had thrown me into an oyster reef. I just knew it. The bay was full of them. If that hadn’t been enough, Captain Roy had warned us about them damn near every chance he’d gotten.

  I tried propping my leg up on the board, well aware that a bleeding leg in the ocean was an invitation to predators. My nerves kicked in just as Captain Roy drove up with the boat. I knew I was going to have to pull myself back in, but my right leg was quickly becoming useless.

  I paddled over and somehow managed to get myself up and back into the boat. Captain Roy was over to me in a second. “Shit, kid. Looks like you got a leg full of oyster reef when you fell. You had it too—if you wouldn’t have turned your entire body, you would’ve stayed up.”

  I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to tell him about what a prick his son was as he poured bottled water over my wound, cleansing it as best he could.

  “You’re gonna need stitches. Let’s get the others and get you to the emergency room.”

  I groaned and let my head fall back against a cushion. “Can’t you just superglue it? Or wrap it up?”

  He shook his head grimly before tossing me a towel. “You’re losing a lot of blood. It’s best not to wait around hoping it’ll stop.” He sat back down and directed the boat toward the others.

  Sadie’s smirk faded the minute she pulled herself up and saw my leg. “Oh, Mike. You poor thing!”

  I kept my face stoic. “It’s just a scratch—Captain Roy wants me to get it checked out, but I’ll be fine.”

  She set her board aside before sitting down next to me, taking my hand in hers. I would’ve bailed off my board a lot earlier had I known I’d get this treatment.

  David climbed up next and his brow wrinkled. “What the hell happened to you?”

  I shrugged. “Made friends with the ocean floor—I’m good.” I unwrapped the towel to show him I was fine as blood pumped steadily from my wound. Maybe I should’ve been more worried; I was starting to get dizzy.

  Patrick was the last to get back on the boat and his face paled when he saw Sadie’s hand in mine. I winked at him. “Some wave back there, man.”

  He nodded absently before sitting down across from us, his eyes never leaving our hands.

  Once we reached the harbor, Captain Roy made a big fuss of getting me off the boat and back to our truck. After arguing that we didn’t need him to drive us to the hospital, he went back to settle things up with the boat. David helped me into the bed of the pickup truck. “You gotta sit back here. I don’t want blood all over my seats.”

  I agreed and tried to get comfortable against the metal.

  “You got room for one more?” Sadie asked as she climbed over the tailgate.

  I nodded, my mouth dry. I wanted to remember the way she looked in this moment—with the sunlight hitting her face and highlighting her blonde hair. That’s when I knew that I must’ve lost a lot of blood—her tits were practically falling out of her swimsuit top and I was hung up on her hair.

  Patrick insisted on joining us as well, but David had him follow us in his Jeep, leaving me and Sadie to ourselves. I was going to owe him one.

  Either the emergency room was having a slow Saturday night or the nurses were afraid that I was going to create a river of blood through the waiting room, so they wasted no time in getting me back to a room.

  An hour later, I’d been disinfected and diagnosed with a pretibial flap laceration—medical speak for a fucked-up shin. The doctor explained that they’d have to use steri-strips to close the wound as the skin was too thin for stitches. Then, to add insult to my injury, she told me I had to be off of it for at least the next few days and out of the water until it was completely healed.

  I punched the plastic bedrail in frustration. I’d just gotten somewhere with Sadie—it was crucial that I be back out on the water tomorrow or risk losing her to Patrick.

  Fucking Patrick.

  He was probably cozying up to her in the waiting room while they worked to close my leg up.

  “I called your mom.” David shut the curtain behind him and walked over to the bed.

  “And?” I asked. Knowing my mom, she was probably sick with worry and headed up here. Just what I needed for Sadie to see—Mikey’s mommy taking care of him.

  Well, this day had officially gone to shit.

  David grinned, “She said she’d expected something like that with all of the ‘surfing experience’ you had. Then she gave the nurse her insurance information and told me to make sure you got home safely.”

  I frowned. “She’s not coming down here? Was she drunk?” My mom wasn’t a drinker—not even close, but that was the only possible explanation for why she hadn’t flipped out.

  He shook his head and rocked on his heels. “She sounded fine. Don’t get me wrong, she was worried, but we’re basically grown men now.”

  I agreed as the doc finished up. “Okay, Mr. Sullivan, we’re all done. I’ll write you a prescription for pain medication; you’re going to be hurting a lot over the next few days.”

  They gave me a card for a follow-up appointment in a few weeks—probably wanted to make sure my leg hadn’t rotted and fallen off by then. That’d just
be my luck.

  Once everything was squared away, they wheeled me out into the waiting room, where Patrick and Sadie were waiting. She jumped up when she saw me, while Patrick glared right through me.

  “Are you going to be okay?” She leaned down and stroked my arm. I was disappointed to see that she was wearing a hoodie now—I’d declined IV pain meds so that I’d be alert enough to appreciate the view this time around.

  That’d been pointless, obviously.

  “Well, the doctor had some pretty specific instructions in order for me to heal.” I bit the inside of my cheek to keep from smiling.

  Her brow furrowed in concern. “Like what?”

  I sighed and looked down. “Well, I’ve got to stay off of it and keep it elevated. She also said I was going to need a date with you—that part was crucial. I could lose my leg.”

  “You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me,” Patrick muttered to himself.

  I shook my head. “I’m dead serious, Patty.”

  He balled his hands into fists, but remained seated on the plastic chair.

  Sadie pressed her lips into a flat line. “Is that right? Well, who am I to go against doctor’s orders?”

  David glanced down at his phone. “You need anything from your truck? I gotta get home; I’m helping my dad early tomorrow morning on a job.”

  I hadn’t even considered that I wouldn’t be able to drive myself home. Maybe someone would pick it up and get it back to me tomorrow.

  “Shoot, what time is it? I was supposed to be home by eleven!” Sadie turned to David.

  “It’s ten fifty. We can give you a ride home first and then get the stuff out of your truck, Mike.”

  Patrick stood up and stretched. “Why don’t you run Sadie home, David? I can take Mike to his truck and then we’ll meet you.”

  I rolled my eyes. Yeah, right. Since when was Patrick helpful?

  David frowned. “Are you sure?”

  Patrick clapped him on the back. “Absolutely—you get her home and I’ll help Mike get whatever he needs. That way, everyone gets home on time.”

  I was all set to protest when Sadie leaned down and pressed her lips to mine. “Call me tomorrow.” Then she and David were running out to his truck and the words died on my lips. Patrick could take me to prom at this point and I wouldn’t care.

  We drove in silence and I replayed that kiss over and over again in my mind. So, I couldn’t drive, but maybe Sadie could come to my house. I could get rid of my mom for a few hours.

  Patrick made a left when he should’ve gone right and I looked over at him. “You missed the turn, Patty.”

  He didn’t respond and continued out of town.

  “Yo, Patrick. Harbor’s back that way. You don’t have to take me home yourself.”

  I wasn’t scared, but tense. I’d willingly gotten into a vehicle with a guy who hated me. Patrick pulled into an empty parking lot and killed the engine.

  “Get out.”

  I stared at him. “You’re joking, right? I can’t walk, thanks to the shit you pulled earlier.”

  He pulled the keys from the ignition and jumped down, slamming the door shut behind him. I opened my door and stepped down with my left leg. What did he expect me to do—hop over to him?

  “C’mon, man, let’s talk about this.”

  He came up so fast that I didn’t even have time to process it before his fist was in my face. My jaw popped from the force and if I hadn’t grabbed the door handle, I would’ve gone down.

  “I told you to stay away from Sadie, but you didn’t listen. Here’s a reminder.” His fist hit my stomach and the force knocked the air from my lungs.

  The memory hit me as I was leaned over, gasping for my next breath.

  “You’re gonna have guys that want to kick your ass—it’s just part of being a man. Your mom wants you to run and find a teacher or another adult, but I ain’t raising no pussy. You gotta fight back.” This had been said when I was ten, after I’d gotten my nose bloodied by a sixth grader on the bus ride home.

  My father had come in after my mom cleaned me up and told me to stand up. “Put your fists up, Junior. Let’s see what you got.” I brought my fists up, just like they did on television. He began making quick jabs along my ribs and it didn’t matter how much I moved my arms, I couldn’t block him. My eyes had welled with tears, but I knew crying would only make things worse for me. When he knocked the air out of me, I’d remained upright, arms still held out in front of me.

  “No, no, no—don’t lower your arms. Keep your right arm up, ready to strike. Use your left arm to block body shots. Watch the other guy—his eyes are gonna go where he’s aiming. Don’t waste your time with body shots. He’s just tiring himself out. When he least expects it, drive your fist under his chin, just like in baseball when you swing it out of the park. Give it everything you’ve got…”

  Patrick came at me again and despite the throbbing pain running from my jaw down to my leg, I managed to hold him off. He took a step back, panting. His eyes were completely unfocused and I knew I wouldn’t get another opportunity.

  I let go of the door handle and put weight on both legs. Then I swung my fist up under his chin with every bit of strength I possessed. His eyes rolled back and he went down immediately. The back of his head connected against the curb with a loud crack.

  I’d done it.

  I’d torn my shin open again, but I’d done it. I’d taken my old man’s advice and come out of the whole thing no worse for the wear. I opened my mouth and rotated my jaw back and forth—well, only slightly worse than I was before.

  My phone rang.

  “Mike, where are you? I’m down by your truck.”

  I turned away from Patrick and looked over at the sign hidden among weeds. “The fucker jumped me, David. We’re at that old strip club, Captain’s Quarters. You’re gonna have to come get me—my leg’s torn open again.”

  David cursed and then told me he’d be right over. Patrick made an odd sound so I hobbled over to him. I hoped David made it here before Patrick decided to wake up. I didn’t think I could take him on again in the shape I was in.

  Headlights illuminated the parking lot as David pulled up. He jumped out and ran over. “Holy shit, you knocked him out?”

  I nodded. “Should we move him back into his Jeep?”

  Patrick made a gurgling sound as bloody foam leaked out of his mouth. I’d never knocked a guy out before, but I was pretty sure that wasn’t normal. We’d only taken a couple of steps toward him when he started convulsing violently.

  I looked at David in horror. “Fuck! What do we do?”

  Patrick’s body shook for another minute before it finally came to a stop. My shoulders relaxed and I took a deep breath.

  “Thank God.”

  David leaned down over him. “Uh, Mike. We’ve got a problem—he’s not breathing.”

  I pushed through the shin pain and hunched down next to David. “What do you mean he’s not breathing? Why isn’t he breathing? Fucking do something, David.”

  He shot me an incredulous look. “What the fuck am I supposed to do, Mike? How hard did you hit him?”

  I grabbed onto Patrick’s shoulders and shook him, but got no response. Blood ran from the side of his mouth and I knew I was in deep shit.

  David started pacing. “We could drop him off in the ER—explain what happened. You’re gonna have to get your shin fixed up again.”

  I nodded. “Okay, let’s get him in the back of your truck.”

  We lifted him up and carried him back to David’s truck, while I prayed that Patrick would sit up in our arms and tell us to fuck off and that the whole thing had been a joke.

  David took the turn toward the hospital. “Stop!” I yelled and he slammed on the brakes. “David, we can’t take him. They’ll arrest me!”

  He stared at me incredulously. “What the hell are we supposed to do then, Mike? Leave him in the back of my truck?”

  I pulled my phone from my pocket. “Just give m
e a second.” The phone rang three times before someone picked up.

  “Hello?”

  I took a deep breath. “Mom, um…I’m in trouble. I need you to come to Galveston.”

  “Where are you? I can be there in thirty.” She didn’t ask me for anything other than my location before hanging up. The residual effects of thirteen years with my father were still very much there.

  We sat on the side of the road until headlights illuminated the back window. Most teenage boys wouldn’t have called their moms to bail them out, but if anyone was going to understand what I was up against here, it was her.

  David was spinning a silver ring on his right hand while staring off at nothing through the windshield.

  “David?” He kept staring straight ahead. “David!”

  He jumped and then looked over at me, as if he just realized I was in the truck with him.

  “She’s here. She’ll fix everything. Don’t worry.”

  There was a light rap on the passenger window and I turned back, expecting to see my mom’s face. Instead, I saw the face of a man I’d left behind five years ago.

  “Dad?” I croaked out before reluctantly opening my door.

  “Hey, Junior. Your mom said you needed help. What’s going on?”

  Just like that.

  Like he hadn’t been out of the picture for the last five years.

  “She called you? You? Of all the people she could’ve recruited—she chose you?” My voice got increasingly louder until I was shouting in his face.

  David leaned across me calmly and pointed toward the back of the pickup truck. “The problem’s in the back.”

  My father leaned in closer to look at David. “You John’s boy?” When David nodded, he stepped back to check the bed of the truck, letting out a low whistle when he saw Patrick.

  “What the hell happened here?”

  I climbed out and limped over to meet him. “Guy jumped me—I only hit him once though—he fell back and cracked his head.”

  He looked at me with something that could only be described as pride. “You hit him with an uppercut, yeah? One and done, just like I taught ya.”