Mr. So Wrong

by R. C. Stephens

  “Okay.” Sam nods. Her dad walks out the door with his beer.

  With him gone, I breathe easier. She turns to me and smiles. “I can call the tow for your car if you’d like,” she offers, and her closeness sends a spark of electricity through my body.

  I swallow. “That would be great. Thank you. I need my suitcase for a change of clothes more than anything right now.” I scrunch up my nose as the smell of cattle shit wafts up my nasal passages.

  That comment buys me giggles. “Yeah, it isn’t the best of scents. I’m pretty used to it by now.” We continue to eat in silence.

  We finish eating and Sam grabs her keys off a hook on the front door and with her head motions for me to follow. I do even though I literally smell like shit. As I follow her outside, I wonder why she works here on this ranch with her asshole father. She seems to have a good head on her shoulders, and she’s a hard worker. She should be able to find another job anywhere, but I’m digging deep now. I have to stop.

  She drives me back to my car, which is still sitting in the same ditch. Thankfully she remembers the exact location because the only distinction that I remember that night is that everything was white around me, which isn’t very distinct at all.

  “Louis beat us here. Good,” she says as she pulls up to the tow truck at the side of the road. She puts her truck in park. I hate sitting in her truck, smelling the way I do. I can’t get my suitcase fast enough, and I crave a shower like there’s no tomorrow. I know those thoughts alone make me a bad rancher.

  We both step out of her truck. My feet are frozen as I walk through the snow in my Pradas. They are already ruined and even if they weren’t, I’m not getting the shitty smell out of them.

  “Hey.” Louis gives me a strong hand shake then smiles at Sam.

  “Hi, thanks for coming out here.” I shake his hand back

  “I need to get my truck on an angle and then hook up the ropes. We are going to have to pull the car up,” he explains.

  “Sure, Lou. What can I do to help?” Sam asks.

  “Nothing. I got this.” He winks at her. I don’t like it.

  He trudges back to his truck to park it sideways. He gets to work on some motorized ropes, extending them behind his truck and toward Portia. I begin to contemplate how on earth Sam got to me the night she found me. I was in zombie mode. It couldn’t have been easy for her. She’s tiny, but I know she’s strong after seeing her work the ranch. Those bales of hay are heavy.

  Portia is hauled out of the ditch. My face falls and my stomach sinks when I see my rims are all missing as well as the special nineteen-inch sport tires. Motherfucker.

  “Looks like you’re going to need to order in some parts. Not sure my uncle has these kind of fancy rims in stock,” Louis explains.

  “Shoot, Al. I’m sorry.” Sam lifts her hand and caresses my arm. I bite the inside of my cheek, thinking of my next words. If this were last week and I was in Chicago, I’d be seriously fucking pissed because my car is my baby. Now, after shoveling shit all day and being exposed to how the other half lives—and I don’t mean it in a bad way—I’m acting like a stuck up jerk. I’m the first to admit my own faults, but I feel like I need to tamp it down around Sam. Or maybe I just want to behave like a nice human right now in front of her and not the spoiled asshole I truly am.

  “It’s fine. It’s only a car.” I don’t choke on my words.

  “Al, it’s a beautifully expensive car. I don’t know who could have done this, but there are so many different towns feeding off this route,” Sam explains, biting her lip. I like that she sticks up for her people in Holston, insinuating they could never be responsible. As much as I don’t understand why she would work on a ranch with her shithead father, I’m beginning to sense her connection to this town and people runs deep.

  “It’s no big deal. Really,” I answer softly while looking into her kind blue eyes.

  Louis’s deep voice breaks through my fixation on Sam. “’Kay, folks, let’s get moving. It’s fucking freezing out here.”

  “Yeah, he’s right.”

  “Okay, we’ll meet you at Slim’s shop,” Sam calls out. I follow her back to the truck.

  “It might take two weeks to get the parts out here with the weather the way it’s been. Calling for another storm tonight,” Slim, who is Louis’s uncle and also the mechanic, explains. His two hands rest on his hips as he evaluates my Portia. “I need to test the battery too and check to see if any other parts are missing. The brakes on these babies are expensive. Looks like the thieves knew what to take.”

  I don’t know shit about cars. He could tell me the radiator is missing and I’d believe him. I have a wad of cash in my wallet, which probably adds up to a few grand, and a good thirty grand more in the bank. That was it. No more money and no job in sight to replenish my funds. The rent on my apartment is super high and will be coming out of my bank account the first of the month. I’ve never had to deal with money issues before. Everything I’m experiencing was a first for me. Life is relative. As bad as I think I’ve been faring, it seems that Sam and her father are faring worse. They not only have themselves to feed but a bunch of cows who they need to fatten up and survive the winter so they can sell them come spring and make money.

  “So how much?” I ask.

  Slim scrubs his fingers along the scruff of his pointed chin. “Not sure. Need to call the supplier.”

  “Okay let me know.” I smile.

  I grab my phone charger and suitcase then follow Sam back to her truck. I notice she has a little bounce in her step when she walks. I can’t help but notice her fine ass slowly swaying.

  “At least my clothes weren’t stolen.” I grin. I place my suitcase in the small backseat. We drive off. She’s quieter than she has been with me. We head back on a main road. She pulls into a small building on the side of the road that says Ruby’s Supermarket.

  After I pay for a shopping cart filled with groceries, we make it back to the ranch. I carry the large paper bags into the kitchen. Her father isn’t home, which is a relief. After we unpack the groceries, she turns to me and says, “I ride a bull. I mean I compete. I got some practicing to do. So …” She twists her heel.

  “You ride a bull? Like a wild bull?” My eyes widen, even though I shouldn’t be surprised.

  “Yeah.” She chuckles. “Why don’t you take it easy or something for a couple hours,” she suggests.

  I scratch my head. “Okay. Sure.” I’m a little speechless. She’s a bull rider. I’ve seen movies about bull riders. That’s intense. She leaves through the kitchen door, and I get a better idea than just chilling for a couple hours. It will either get me shot or it will buy me a really big smile from Sam. I follow her out the kitchen door and see that she’s walking to a barn a little ways out. This ranch is huge. I don’t know how many acres it sits on, but I’m guessing around the hundred range. When she’s out of sight, I do something really stupid.

  Chapter Nine

  Al

  One of the businesses my family owns is a tractor development plant. It was the place I spent my career day freshman year. I took an interest in the mechanics of the tractors and on occasion found myself back at the plant hanging out.

  I’m on my back outside on the frozen ground when I see a pair of boots. “Fuck, City, what are you doing?” It’s Farmer Joe’s voice. He must be back to take the tractor in for repair.

  I slide out from underneath. My hands are frozen and my back aches, even though the tractor is parked in a large barn type structure. There is no heat out here. “I’m fixing your tractor.”

  He chortles deep and hearty. “Fuck, that’s the funniest thing I’ve heard.” He holds his stomach.

  Truth is I just finished up. I want to test the part one last time. “If it’s so fucking funny, why don’t you get on and try it out,” I say with a challenging glare.

  He stares me down for a moment, until I think he realizes I’m not kidding. “Okay.” He turns the key. The tractor roars to life.
He gives me a curious look. “Where did you get parts?”

  “I took Sam’s truck back to Slim’s shop,” I answer. I paid attention when Sam drove us there earlier, but I don’t mention I didn’t ask her permission to take the truck.

  “Problem was the transmission,” I start and he cuts me off.

  “I knew that.”

  “You haven’t had an inspection on this in a long time. You got a lot of problems with maintenance,” I explain.

  “Maintenance costs money I don’t have,” he retorts.

  “Fair enough. I fixed the problem you were having with the shaft too,” I say, and he eyes me curiously.

  “How much do I owe you?” he asks.

  “I wanted to do this. Sam won’t take my money,” I explain.

  “How did you learn how to fix a machine like this? If you don’t mind my saying, you really don’t look like a mechanic.”

  I smirk. “Definitely not a mechanic, sir. Just a hobby I learned when I was younger,” I say, knowing it isn’t much of an explanation.

  He nods his head, accepting my explanation. “I appreciate what you’ve done,” he says, extending his hand for me to shake. It takes me a second to realize what he wants. I shake his hand, and he turns and walks away. I figured it’s the best I’m going to get out of him. At least he didn’t shoot me for taking Sam’s truck. Speaking of which, I haven’t seen her in a couple hours. I walk toward the house to look for her.

  Chapter Ten

  Al

  It’s late evening by the time I make it back to the main house. Sam’s truck isn’t parked in the driveway where it usually is. I trudge inside, feeling worn and achy. I take a warm shower, relieved Farmer Joe isn’t around either. Every bone in my body feels broken as I scrub my body down from head to toe. I want to turn the water to the hottest it goes so that it will scald my body and relax my muscles, but I opt for a quick rinse. Water costs money. Suddenly, I’m aware of the simple things I’ve never given a second thought to. I get out of the shower and dress in fresh clothes: a fitted, gray, long-sleeve Hugo Boss T-shirt and a pair of designer jeans. I trudge back to Sam’s room, barefoot. She still isn’t back from where ever she went. With my phone charged, I call my sister. She picks up after one ring.

  “Thanks for ditching me close to Christmas,” she chides.

  “Hey to you too,” I answer. “I didn’t ditch you, although my car ended up in a ditch. I didn’t have my phone charger. I didn’t remember your number by heart.”

  “Shit,” she hisses. “You okay?”

  “Yeah, I guess. My car needs some repairs …” I pause, contemplating telling her the whole story.

  “I shouldn’t be mad at you, then. Where the hell are you anyway? I was expecting you days ago.”

  “Right.” I scrub at my chin. “A woman saved my ass when the car went in the ditch and I’ve been staying with her.”

  “Of course,” she answers, resigned. I may not have the best big brother reputation since I tend to fill my free time with women in my bed.

  “It’s not like that, Izzy.” I exhale. Here goes nothing. “I took a sleeping pill and fell asleep in my car in the middle of a snow storm. I was tired of driving and frustrated and I decided sleeping was a good idea.”

  “Shit. That is messed-up.”

  “I know. I didn’t mean to not show. I also got sick, so I was in bed. Don’t ask. It’s been one big mess.”

  Izzy sighs. “Sorry, big brother. Sounds like you had a bad go of things. When should I expect you?”

  I pause, not sure how to answer the next question.

  “Is the woman that saved you pretty as hell?”

  “Uh … yes … but … there is more to it. I’ll fill you in soon,” I say, not wanting to add that my stomach is grumbling from the manual labor I did on the ranch today.

  She groans. “Yeah sure, okay. You take care.”

  “You too,” I answer and end the call. It’s only after I hung up that I realize she seemed a little off.

  I walk back out to the main area of the house and notice Farmer Joe sitting in the same chair he usually sits in with the Jim Beam by his side. “Do you know where Sam is, sir?”

  “She went to Moe’s. It’s a bar on the edge of town.” He does me a favor answering.

  Fuck! I want to go meet her. Uber or even a taxi aren’t available around here. I clear my throat and take a deep breath because Farmer Joe is kind of fierce and even though he’s old, he has one too many guns lying around.

  “Sir, would you mind if I borrowed your truck?” I hold my breath as I finish the question. He gives me a look that says he thinks I’m nuts—and I probably am to think he would lend a complete stranger his truck.

  “You mean my Ford?” He cocks a brow.

  I’ve dealt with all kinds of criminals and assholes while working for the state prosecutor, but Joe Belmont practices a different kind of intimidation. Maybe it’s all the guns he has lying around. I don’t really know. I take a big gulp, swallowing hard, expecting him to lash out. Only his dark eyes soften for a brief moment when he says, “Ford is one of America’s greatest accomplishments. Take care of my truck.” He may have even cracked half a smile under that thick mustache of his, but I’m not sure. He may have just been passing gas.

  “Huh?” I feel confused. Did he just give me permission to drive his old beat-up truck? It seems like he’s trying to trick me with his answer.

  “What are you, deaf, City?” he snaps and of course the moment of kindness passes. “Bar’s at the corner of Route 68. You should know it. Your car was in the ditch a few miles out from there.”

  I’d paid a little attention when Sam and I went to fetch my car earlier; she had hung a right turn out of here. I don’t fully remember, but I also am not about to ask Mr. Grumpy for directions. I’ll find it on my own. Still in shock he’s even letting me borrow his truck, I run back to the room I was sharing with Sam put on some socks and a pair of Hugo Boss running shoes. I grab my wool peacoat since my other jacket now smells like shit, and I run back toward the door to get the keys from the hook, half expecting him to pull a shot gun on me. They’re the last set of keys on the hook, so I pray it’s the right set. Any words I exchange with Farmer Joe are on a need-to basis.

  The truck doesn’t start up immediately. On the second try, it roars to life and I’m off hanging a right then heading down a long dark two-way street. While driving in silence, I think of Sam. Did she happen upon me that night because she was coming home from being out at the bar? Did she just finish hooking up with someone when she found me? What was she doing driving in that treacherous weather anyway? I can’t stop thinking of her, and it’s disconcerting to say the least.

  About five minutes later, I pull up to a barn that looks like it’s been converted into a bar. It has a big red neon light on the roof that says Moe’s. I spot Sam’s pickup parked out front along with another twenty or more cars. This place must be the local hangout. I turn off the ignition and step outside, locking the door with my key. The last thing I need is for Farmer Joe’s truck to be stolen.

  “Hey, nice to meet you. I’m Leslie.” A lady who just pulled in beside me comes over with a bright smile and extends a hand for me to shake.

  “Al.” I shake her hand as a shiver rolls through my body from this crazy cold weather.

  “You’re driving Joe Belmont’s truck.” It’s a statement.

  I nod.

  “You’re his houseguest, right?” she continues.

  “I am.” This is so weird.

  “This is Riley, my boyfriend.” She points to the tall brooding man beside her.

  I extend my hand to her boyfriend, and he shakes it, not saying a word except for a small grunt.

  “Don’t mind him. He needs beer,” Leslie explains, waving off her boyfriend’s anti-social behavior. He kind of reminds me of Farmer Joe. I’m pretty sure he grunts more than he speaks actual words. Maybe it’s a cowboy thing or a rancher thing. “Let’s head on in. It’s freezing out here.
”

  I follow them, hoping Leslie will lead me to Sam.

  As I enter the front door, I take the place in. It looks like a barn with lots of tables scattered around. All the tables are full. There is loud country music playing in the back ground. Can’t say I’m a fan of country music, but I can put up with it for a night. There is a small dance floor and some billiard tables off to the back. My eyes stop on Sam as I watch her dancing in front of a juke box with a beer in her hand. She looks different tonight, wearing a tight white shirt with the shoulders cut out and a form-fitting pair of jeans. They’re the ones she usually wears, but with that tight top it gives a whole different look. Her short blond hair is down and she’s wearing a hint of makeup. She looks gorgeous. My eyes rake up and down her body unabashedly, and as if sensing my stare, she looks up and makes eye contact with me. Her throat bobs as she stills for a beat before she pulls her gaze away and looks over to Leslie. At that moment both women shriek and run for each other. Leslie’s boyfriend follows. Leslie and Sam give each other a long hug, which involves the two of them swaying their hips from side to side.

  When they pull apart, Leslie points to me and says, “We picked this stud up along the way.” She winks at Sam. Her tone crackles enthusiasm.

  “I can see that,” Sam answers, her tone even. If I didn’t see her throat bob when I walked in, I would think I’m the last person she’s interested in seeing here tonight.

  “You guys want to join us for drinks?” Leslie asks, referring to me and Sam as if we were a couple. Sam looks up to me then back to Leslie, her mouth slightly open as if she wants to say something but no words come out.

  “Um … you guys go ahead. I’m starving I need to get a bite to eat.”

  “Don’t be silly, Al. You can order food and we can get our drinks. Come on over to the booth here.” Leslie waves us over. Her boyfriend Riley hasn’t said much, but he climbs into the booth after her. Sam climbs in on the opposite side. I notice she looks a little tipsy.

  A waitress comes up to our table. “Usual?” she asks, looking around. They all nod. Her gaze pauses on me. “Don’t know what your usual is handsome.” She gives me a flirtatious smile. Sam shifts in the seat beside me.