by ML Nystrom
“Yeah, you do. Turns out, the kid is yours.” She jostled the carrier containing the now squirming bundle. The baby made a few noises and rubbed a tiny hand over its face.
Table finally looked at her, stunned. “What?”
“It ain’t Jack’s or Mark’s or Richie’s. Only one left is you. DNA test is quick over at t’ hospital, iffen you want to make sure, but you’re the only one left. Gotta be yours.”
She set the carrier and the bag on the pool table, jostling several balls out of place. Neither I nor Table said anything.
“Tim’s outside. We’re heading to the coast. Papers are in the bag for custody. Divorce ones is still on the way only ’cause they make you wait a whole year. All you gotta do is sign ’em and mail ’em. I’m outta here.”
She turned and started walking away.
“Wait a minute!” Table exploded. “You’re just going to walk out and leave—leave—fuckin’ shit! What’s the kid’s name?”
“It’s a girl. I call her Angie. You can change it if you want. I don’t care. Put your last name on the birth certificate already. I gotta go. Tim’s waitin’ for me.”
“You’re just going to leave her here? With me?” Table looked like a ton of bricks just landed on his head. “What the fuck are you doing? You can’t just go run off and leave your baby!”
The woman rolled her eyes, cocked out a hip, and rested a taloned hand on it. “Sure I can. I never wanted to be no mama, and Tim sure as hell don’t wanna be no daddy. You were always talking about family and lotsa kids. Now’s your chance. Good luck!”
She walked out of the bar without a second thought or even a glance at the baby she was leaving behind.
He set the cue stick down and moved to take the tiny bundle in his large hands. I could feel my heart breaking a bit. I didn’t think I’d fallen in love with Table, but I also had grown close to him and was warming up to the idea of us being a real couple. Something I’d never had. Those giant working hands cradled the soft pink bundle with such care, I knew he was lost. His eyes rose to mine.
“Eva.” His look and voice were strained. That would be expected when your world suddenly shifted gears from first to tenth.
“I’ll call Betsey. She’ll know what to do,” I said, pulling out my phone.
Betsey said she was on her way. I watched Table cradle the tiny pink bundle. His club brothers came by to look and the band was silent as the drama continued. I felt Stud’s presence as he came and stood by Table. His eyes looked strange and glossy as he stared at the baby. She fussed a bit and screwed up her face as if gearing up to cry.
Table gave her a finger to grip and she immediately tried to put it in her mouth. Stud rummaged through the bag and found a bottle of formula ready to go and a few diapers. How thoughtful of the raging bitch that was this poor kid’s mother.
Table plugged the bottle into the baby’s mouth and she quieted immediately.
“Eva. This changes things,” he said quietly. “I really like you. I like you a whole lot, but I’ve got a whole new circumstance that I do not know how to handle just yet. I can’t bring someone new in my life when I just found out I have a daughter. Tamara never told me she was pregnant, but I don’t need a DNA test to prove anything. I know she’s mine. I hope you’ll forgive me.”
I smiled at him. My heart wasn’t exactly breaking, but it still hurt. I did understand where he was coming from, and I admired him for stepping up and doing what was right.
“Nothing to forgive. She’s cute. Got your head of hair,” I joked, touching the light fuzz covering the baby’s bald head.
He smiled and chuckled as Betsey arrived. I didn’t know what the club brothers would do without her. She came in and took charge, taking over the baby like it was one of her own grandchildren. Table wanted the baby to ride in his truck back to the Lair but didn’t want to leave me stranded.
“I got her,” Stud stated solemnly. “Band doesn’t need to play and Mute’s thinking about closing early. Doesn’t seem the best of occasions to party. I’m really sorry you’re dealing with that bitch, but congratulations on being a dad. It’s a helluva thing, brother.”
He clapped a hand on Table’s meaty shoulder.
The car seat was firmly secured onto the bench seat I’d occupied a few hours ago. Strains of the Queen song “Another One Bites the Dust” ran through my head as Table hugged me.
“Still friends?” he asked.
What else can I do?
“Always.” I smiled, willing myself to look relaxed and okay with life.
He climbed into the cab and took off. Betsey followed.
Me? I proceeded to get rip-roaring drunk. I didn’t do that often. Working at the job site through a hangover is both miserable and dangerous, but at that moment, I really didn’t care. I had to wrap myself around Stud like a second skin to keep from falling off as I rode with him on the back of his bike. So what if I ran my hands all over his stomach and chest? It was a safety situation!
I was singing “Danny Boy” as I threw my leg over the bike, “Oh Dannneeeboyeeee, da pipes da pipez’er caw-awling!” and nearly pitched headfirst into the parking lot gravel. “Oopz! Sorry ’bout th’ song. Thas all I know.”
Yes, I even giggled.
Stud wasn’t having it. His face stayed aloof and unsmiling as he got off, kicking out the stand to lean the bike over. He was still sober. Party pooper!
“You gonna be all right? I’ve never seen you like this since you’ve been here.”
I screwed up my face and flipped my hand. “Nah! Am good. Doncha know by now? Am Eva MacAteer! Am every wonz frien!”
I threw out my arms in what was supposed to be a grandiose move and almost ended up on my ass again. Stud caught me and dragged me upward.
“Let’s get you in bed before you fall down.” He took my key, unlocked my house, and pushed me inside. “You gonna barf?”
“Maybe.” I burped. My lady lessons were sadly lacking. “Doan matter, Ah’ll geddup inna mornin’ and report for duty as always. Hee-hee-hee! Ah said doody!”
Stud almost smiled at my slurred joke that was more suited for a first grader. I was happy to see it. Happy enough to share my wise thoughts with him as any drunk woman would.
“Aryoo still mad at me?” I flopped on my couch and slid to my side. Staying upright was just too much. “Ah doan wan yoo ta be mad at me. Ah doan like it when yer mad. Ah liked it bedder when we were frins.”
“I’m not mad, Eva,” he said, pulling a quilt over me. The same one we both had draped over ourselves when we were movie buddies.
I burped again. “You really needta stop treatin’ women like that,” I informed him sagely. I was sure the burping ruined the effect, but at the time everything made perfect sense. “And y’also need da stop lettin’em treat you that way too.”
Stud blinked and stiffened. “You’re not drunk enough to tell me what to do, Eva.”
I kept on. “You doan ged it! You luuuuuv women, and treat them sooooo nice when ur with ’em. But winna woman starts ta think mebbe she’z special to you, poof! She’z gone an’ yoo fin’ anudder one. Itz like a colleshun, collec-shun, a colleckt-shum. You ged da word! You can’t handle jus’ one! Mebbe one ada time! Hee-hee-hee!”
Stud wasn’t amused at me this time.
“I can’t blame yoo mush. Da women yur with make you inno a trophy, too! Zere jus’ as bad! Always chasin’ yoo like you’re sum sorta trophy. Itza big deal at the club to bang the Stud! Hey! Tha’ kinda rhymes!”
Why is it I was so much smarter when I was drunk? I grabbed at Stud’s hand because he really needed to pay attention and hear my smartness. “Yur a speshul man, an’ shud be treated rite.”
I was losing it. The alcohol was in full swing, hitting me hard.
“Ah wish Ah was speshul,” I intoned, forgetting for a moment I had an audience and I was talking out loud. I was fading fast. I’d never been a wild drunk and very seldom got this bad. Time for me to pass out before I shared more wisdom than I sho
uld.
The world tilted on its axis and I went out like a light. The last thing I heard—or thought I heard—was Stud saying, “You are more special than you think, Eva.”
Fast forward to this morning.
Patrick and Angus, of course, hearing over the grapevine I had a rough night and was hungover like hell, made it their mission to annoy the bejezus out of me by flicking the pulley rope at me or throwing me tools that were just barely within reach.
“Quit fucking around, you two jackasses!” I yelled at them irritably as Patrick flicked the rope just as my hand touched it to pull out another stone from the swinging bucket. The best way we had to haul the heavy rocks to the roof was to rig a pulley system to the chimney framework and pull a heavy bucket up from the ground. Patrick was in charge of putting the stones in the bucket and getting them to me. Angus was mixing the cement that also made its way to me. Eventually, one of them was supposed to come up to the roof, bring me a new safety harness, and add his hands to the work. The one I had on had a bad frayed spot I didn’t notice earlier when I was strapping in. So far today, both of them had come up with excuse after excuse for why they couldn’t be the ones to climb the ladder and join me. They never did bring me that new harness.
“Eva, lass, you’re doin’ such a fine job, I’d hate to go up there and mess it up!” Angus laughed. “Here’s another trowel for you. You can have one in each hand!” He tossed up a wide flat cement smoother and I had to duck so it wouldn’t hit me.
“Asshole!” I yelled at him angrily. The slick cement was mixed with too much water so it was running off and the stones were slipping out of place. Not to mention I was covered with the stuff, as I’d managed—with a little help from them—to get splattered head to toe. “Make this shit right, Angus! I’m not in the mood to play, you fuckwad! Let’s just please get this done!”
“Ooh! Eva got a hot date tonight? Maybe Angus is getting you back for cockblocking him at the club last time we were there!” Patrick yelled up, laughing. This earned him a wad of cement in the face from Angus.
“Hey, dumbass! I got in there, all right? She couldn’t keep her hands or her mouth off me!” he preened.
“What was her name again?” Patrick garbled around the cement he was spitting out.
“How the hell should I know?” Angus laughed.
“I’m in the fucking twilight zone!” I muttered, slapping a sinking stone back in place. I was about to yell at them again when a familiar sound hit my ears. The roar of Stud’s Harley announced his arrival to the job site. I swallowed any further comments and troweled more cement around the chimney, trying not to look in his direction. Fuck my life! I did not know how to handle this, knowing he’d seen me at a really low point, drunk off my ass and saying crap I had no business saying. Men and women. Dating. Feelings. Kissing. Not kissing. Gah! Drama!
I risked a glance in his direction and caught him frowning at me up on the roof. I couldn’t see it, but I imagined his lips tightening in disapproval. He moved into the building, I was supposed to meet with Connor and Da. I stared for a moment and then, stiffening my jaw, kept working. Who was he to judge me?
“Eva, your stones are slipping out!” I heard a split second before one of the stones in the milky cement fell out and hit my head and shoulder. That might not have been so bad, but the strike threw me off balance and tumbled me off the roof. The safety harness held for a moment and then snapped. I didn’t even have time to curse. I fell fifteen feet and landed flat on my back and shoulders. My head bounced off the pavement, and I didn’t just see stars, I saw fucking galaxies. I heard loud raucous laughter coming from Patrick and Angus through the ringing in my ears, but couldn’t move. I could only lay there, one big bundle of shock, as in slow motion, the stones I had painstakingly tried to keep in place slid off the wet chimney. I had a split second to think oh shit, this is gonna hurt before a dozen or so heavy stones fell on me. I felt something give in my ribcage and something else bury itself in my left leg. Fuckers! I thought, fighting to get breath enough to scream at them that I was really hurt. I couldn’t breathe. Come on, Eva. Breathe. Nothing. No voice. No breath. Fuck me, I’m going to die right here on a job site with my asswipe brothers laughing at me for falling off a roof.
I heard a roar. Actually, maybe two roars. I wasn’t sure. I did know the pressure around my ribs finally lightened and I was able to draw in a breath. Then the real pain hit. Fuck me! Fuck me! Fuck ME! Someone knock my ass out! I fought it, trying to get up, trying to run from it. I gagged with it, which didn’t help my ribs any. Holy fucking shit, someone please knock my ass out!
“Be still, baby, be still.” Stud was holding me down, cradling my face in his hands while Connor lifted and threw away the stones that covered me. “I know it hurts bad, but you have to stay awake.”
“I don’t want to!” I managed to wheeze. “If you’re any kind of fucking friend, punch my lights out!”
“That’s my girl. Keep arguing with me, Cactus. Ambulance is on the way.” His mouth grimaced in an attempted smile, but it didn’t reach his eyes. There was fury and fear in them.
“Ah, Christ, look at her leg!” Connor said, putting pressure on it. White-hot agony zapped a sudden lightning strike in my lower half and I screamed.
“Fuck! Fucking hell!”
“Don’t touch it! It may be the only thing plugging the main artery. Keep her still, Stud, and I’ll get a tourniquet going.” Someone knelt beside me and started wrapping something. I was drifting a bit, then whatever they did nearly brought me straight up.
“Son of a motherfuckin’ bitch!” I yelled, my ribs protesting the sudden movement. My head spun, and my vision was going gray.
“Wait, what? Is she really hurt?” Angus asked in a bewildered little boy voice.
“What do you think, you stupid fuck?” Stud growled at him, still holding me. “Baby, stay awake. Argue with me, fight with me, get mad as hell at me, but please stay awake.”
I was floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. Passing out seemed like a good idea, even though Stud didn’t want me to do it. Maybe I was going to die. I looked at his eyes, the only thing left I had that I could focus on.
“I really miss you.” My tongue was thick, and I was having trouble making the words come out. I didn’t even know if I sounded coherent. I stopped fighting the creeping blackness and let myself slide into it.
Ten
Stud paced in the hospital waiting room, trying to contain his anger. He was there along with Betsey and Tambre. One phone call and the club women always rallied to take care of everyone. Stud had followed the ambulance on his bike from the half-finished bar. Eva’s father had insisted her brothers stay and keep working on the site.
“No sense in all of us going. Too much time lost, and we’re a man down now,” he stated as he motioned his sons to get back to work.
Connor lost it before Stud could.
“Are you out of your mind?” he yelled, throwing his arm out and pointing to Eva’s broken form. “Your daughter is lying there injured, and you’re worried about a fucking job!”
“We have to be in Wilmington for another one in three weeks! We can’t afford any down time!” the old man yelled back.
Connor blinked in surprise. “What the hell are you talking about? We’re nowhere near being finished here! Is that why you’ve been pushing us to spend every waking minute on the site? Because you fucked up and cross-booked another job?”
Fergus threw his hands wide in a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t look at the calendar. The Wilmington job is a big one. Four resort hotel bar remodels, one after another.” He huffed. “We can still get this one done if we keep up our pace. Eva’s already got the bar construction done on the inside. Owen and Garrett can do the rest of the finish work, while the rest of you shingle the roof. I’ve almost finished the wiring in the interior walls.”
“Un-fucking-believable!” Connor threw his hands in the air, the movement similar to his father’s as the old man wa
lked away. He stood for a moment, anger radiating off him in waves. If the look he shot his father’s retreating back could burn, the older man would have been incinerated on the spot.
“God fucking dammit! I hate this shit! I’m so goddamned tired of it!” Connor turned to Stud who was still crouched over Eva’s still form. Pain ravaged his face, making him look much older than his thirty-four years. In one of their nighttime conversations, Eva had talked to Stud about Connor being the glue that was holding the family together. The brothers were depending on him to keep the company going for their livelihood as their father was getting older and starting to make mistakes. This was a heavy burden to carry, and Stud could see the man buckling under the weight of it. Stud got the impression Connor wanted nothing more than to tell Fergus to go to hell and go to the hospital with Eva, but there was still a job site that had to be shut down properly and no one else but him to see that it got done.
“Would you please make sure the hospital does right by her and call me? Not him?” Connor’s voice ground out like he had a mouthful of gravel. “I’ll get this shit straightened out here and get there as quick as I can.”
Stud didn’t say anything to the struggling man. He just gave a short nod.
The ambulance showed up and the paramedics took charge. Stud had hoped Kat would be working the emergency room. She was one of the most competent people he knew, and he could trust her.
Stud turned and paced in the other direction, his mind both racing and numb at the same time.
“Miss Eva MacAteer?”
Betsey stood up when the doctor entered the small waiting room and Stud stopped his pacing to focus on the man.
“Not as bad as it should have been. X-rays show two cracked ribs, which is remarkable given the fall and the weight of the stones. Lots of bruises, so she’ll be sore and breathing will be hard, but I don’t see any major internal damage. I was expecting full breaks and a lot of them.”