Jagger

by Kristopher Rufty

  “I'll cover it,” said Teresa.

  Clayton turned around. Teresa stood where he’d left her, hugging herself. Her shoulders were bunched around her head. Though it was hot and stuffy in the basement, she seemed to be shivering.

  “What'd you say?” he asked.

  “I'll handle the adoption fee.”

  “Why?”

  Clayton hadn't meant to ask, but it had come out anyway. He’d assumed after this spectacle, she would be done with Clayton and would leave him to his issues.

  But she's not.

  And he had to admit he was glad to have her with him through this. Maybe she was worth keeping. She might even be the one.

  His smile seemed to warm her some. She stopped shaking as much, and let her arms slip down her front. She tugged at the edge of the skirt in a nervous habit she probably wasn't aware she even had.

  “I want to help you,” she said. “I want you to be done with all this. And if we have to adopt a big dog so Stan can put that stuff in it, then we will.”

  Clayton felt Stan's hand slap down on his shoulder. “Good woman you’ve got there.”

  Still smiling, Clayton agreed.

  Chapter Twelve

  The animal shelter was fresh out of large dogs. They had plenty of adults on canine death row to choose from, but none seemed to have the qualifications of what Stan needed.

  The animal control guy said they had a Rottweiler, but he’d been malnourished by a previous owner and was being nursed back to good health before adoption. He wouldn’t be ready for a few weeks.

  So the animal control guy tried to sell them on a puppy, and though Teresa played with them all much longer than Clayton liked, he declined the offer.

  Heading back to Teresa’s tiny Ford Focus, he realized they would have been screwed had there been a large dog to take. Where would they have put it? On the roof?

  We would’ve had to go back and get my truck, then come back here just to get the damn thing to Stan’s.

  “I’m running out of ideas,” said Clayton, crossing the front of Teresa’s car.

  “Let’s get a paper.”

  “What for?”

  “Maybe someone has a dog in the classifieds.”

  Clayton felt jittery inside. “Yeah. A lot of times they’re just giving them away.” He wished they would have thought of this sooner.

  “Yeah,” said Teresa, smiling.

  Though he doubted she was having much fun doing this, she seemed happy. Maybe it was just the little thrill of working on something together. He’d allowed her into his world, and though it was a sullen place that Clayton wanted to be free of, she was still glad to be close to him.

  They left the animal shelter behind. As they drove away, Clayton could hear the faint yelps of the dogs wanting them to come back.

  Teresa got the car on the road, heading back to town.

  “Want some lunch?” she asked.

  Clayton was surprised to find either of them wanted food after their morning. “Sure.”

  “How about Mickey’s?”

  “The burger place?” She nodded. “No thanks. For all we know, their beef’s pumped full of Stan’s toxic fruit punch.”

  “Ew.” She grimaced. “Yeah, I forgot.”

  They decided on Burger King. The meat there was processed and probably only partially authentic, but it was better than the alternative.

  They went through the drive-thru. Clayton ordered two double cheeseburgers, large fries, and a Coke. Teresa got a Whopper Combo and a Coke. When they got their food, Teresa drove to an empty space and parked.

  She opened the white paper bag and dug out Clayton’s food and handed it to him. When she retrieved hers from inside the rattling bag, they peeled the wrappers away and began to eat.

  The food was greasy and good. The buns were slightly damp, but still soft. Clayton finished all of his before Teresa. He was guzzling what was left of the Coke through the straw when she stuffed her trash into the bag.

  “All right,” she said, smiling. There was a glossy sheen on her upper lip from the food. “Ready to get going?”

  Remembering what they were supposed to be doing made the food feel like a rock in his gut. A thick, gassy burp caught him by surprise. He nodded.

  “I’m not thrilled, either,” she said, cranking the car. The air conditioner coming from the vents was warm, but quickly cooled. “Let’s just get it over with.”

  Clayton nodded again. Now she sounded as if she were the one making the plans.

  Better her than me. My plans suck.

  Teresa drove them out of the parking lot and onto the main street. A gas station wasn’t far away, just ahead on the right. She wasn’t going fast enough that she needed to slow down when she turned in. There was plenty of space up front, so she pulled into the first available spot.

  She put the car in park and leaned to the side. The seatbelt ran between her breasts, pulling the dress taut around their large mounds. She started digging through a ditch in the compartment that was full of change.

  Holding out his hand, Clayton said, “Don’t bother. I’ve got change.”

  Teresa looked up. “Oh, sorry...”

  He hadn’t meant to sound so annoyed, but he really was. She’d paid for the food, was going to pay for the dog at the animal shelter, if they’d had one. He could at least cover the cost of a newspaper.

  “Be right back,” he said. He opened the door, climbed out, and was about to close it when Teresa stopped him.

  “Throw this away?” She held out the Burger King bag.

  “Yeah, sure.”

  “Thanks.” She smiled.

  Taking the bag, he closed the door, blocking his view of her peace-attempting smile. She must have been able to tell his pride had been challenged. Now she would go out of her way to not insult him, though she hadn’t done anything wrong to begin with.

  Clayton tossed the bag into a plastic drum that was being used as trashcan. He stepped over to the coin-operated rack, and stuck his hand in the pocket.

  And felt nothing.

  Shit.

  He’d forgotten all about not having his own clothes. He was still in Mitch’s big and tall wardrobe.

  Now he’d have to go back to the car and ask Teresa for some change.

  Sighing, Clayton turned around and walked back to the car. He went around to the driver’s side. As he approached, the window came down, the tiny motor whirring. Teresa leaned out.

  “What’s the matter?” she asked.

  “I...uh...” He scratched his head, though it didn’t itch. “I don’t have any stupid change.”

  Teresa gave him the look of a mother whose kid just told her he’d wet himself. She turned back inside the car. Clayton could hear the coins jangling as she sorted through them. A moment later, she reappeared, holding out her fingers. Coins were pinched between them.

  He took the money, muttered, “Thanks,” and headed back to the newspaper racks. He slipped the coins through the slot and pulled the gate down.

  There were no papers on the rack inside. All that was left was in the display window. He took that one and let the gate slam shut. He rolled up the newspaper, tucked it under his arm, and walked back to the car.

  It felt like he was moving around inside an oven from the heat on his back. It warmed the shirt, making it stick to his sweaty skin.

  From the weighty heat outside, getting back inside the car was wonderful. Cool air blew all over him. He shut the door. Leaning back in the seat, he sighed. He didn’t feel like moving right away. His belly was full and the air felt too great to bother with anything else.

  “Let me see,” said Teresa.

  He felt the paper being taken from his lap. With his eyes closed, he listened to the crinkly sounds of her unrolling the paper. He figured she was reading the table of contents to find out where the classified section was.

  “Got it,” she muttered.

  More thin rustling sounds of the pages being turned, followed by silence.


  Clayton felt his body going light, tingling as the inklings of a nap came to meet him.

  “This is bullshit!”

  Teresa’s shout snapped him awake. Sleep had been slowly covering him with a comforting darkness, but now he was once again blinded by the glaring light pouring in from the windshield.

  Clayton turned to Teresa and found her wadding the newspaper into a black and white ball. She threw it behind her, leaned forward, and crossed her arms on the steering wheel under her face.

  “Not good news?” he asked.

  “There wasn’t anything in there that can help us.”

  Us.

  “No big dogs?” he asked.

  “No.”

  Clayton groaned. The heat drained from his body, making him feel cold and achy and exhausted. He dropped back into the seat.

  That’s it. It’s over.

  He wanted to cry, but instead he turned to Teresa. “Thanks for trying,” he said.

  “Some big help I was.” Her voice had sounded flat behind her arms.

  “You did plenty.”

  “Oh, sure.” She sniffled. “Now what?”

  Clayton sighed. “I guess we head back to your place so I can get my truck.”

  “And then?”

  And then it’s bye-bye Clayton.

  He was tempted to flee Brickston, hit the road. But he had nowhere to go. No friends or family anywhere. Nobody. Other than Teresa, there hadn’t been anyone in years that even seemed to care about him.

  And even if he did run away, Brock would find him. He couldn’t hide from a ruthless guy like that.

  And if I ran, Brock would probably do something to Teresa.

  Yesterday he probably wouldn’t have minded so much, if it meant he was in the clear. Today changed things. She’d proved she actually cared about him and all his pathetic flaws.

  “I’ll go talk to Brock,” he said. “Tell him I can’t pay him back.”

  Teresa’s head shot up. “Don’t do that.”

  “It’s better I just get it over with. Dragging it out’s going to make me go insane.”

  Teresa closed her eyes. Her lids scrunched up, the corners of her eyes wrinkled with her brow. She looked as if she was in pain. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”

  Clayton wasn’t sure which part of their day she was regretting, but he wouldn’t be surprised if it was all of it. “Don’t blame yourself...”

  “No. Not that.” Eyes still closed, she bared her teeth. “I know where we can get a dog.”

  Clayton sat up fast. “You do?”

  She nodded. A high-pitched squeak resonated from her throat. “Yes. I thought about asking my parents for the money to pay Brock back, but I know they won’t give it to me. Amy won’t give it to me, either. I know she won’t.”

  Amy. Clayton remembered meeting her at Teresa’s one time. She seemed stuck up, and he was certain she didn’t like him very much.

  “And this is a dog we can actually get?” he asked. “Not just something we’re going to find out isn’t going to happen?”

  “No. He’s there. It’s Amy’s dog. And he’s big.”

  “How big?”

  “As big as me, if not bigger.”

  Clayton laughed. He drummed his hands on the dash. Amy had a dog, and he felt some kind of sickish thrill knowing it belonged to her.

  A thought struck him, making him stop his celebration. If she’d known where to find a dog all this time, why was she just telling him now?

  He asked her.

  “Because,” she said. Finally, she opened her eyes. “I hoped there was another way. But now I see there’s not one.”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Amy felt great. She always did after the gym. Her muscles were a little sore, but they throbbed with energy. She felt as if she could run for miles as she drove her Jeep. A couple times she caught herself going well above the speed limit and had to force her foot to ease up on the gas.

  And she liked how the evening’s warmth felt on her body after a good work out. It was warm and yet cooling at the same time. It left her feeling motivated and peppy, in a good mood that she tried to keep for the remainder of the day.

  Loose hairs dangled in her eyes. She brushed them back, cringing at how knotted and oily her hair felt. First thing she was going to do was take a shower. Wash the funk away from her body. She never used the showers at the gym. Rarely did she even go in the locker room. Too many women, comfortable with their bodies, walked around completely naked, trying to strike up conversations with her. Amy knew she had nothing to be ashamed of when it came to her looks, but she still had some kind of modesty. Those women did not.

  She remembered when a woman had tried to talk to her about a spin class while smearing herself with lotion. Amy had sat on the bench, trying to get her jeans on. The woman, standing before her, had coated her skin in lotion that smelled like strawberries. Amy had never felt more uncomfortable in all her life as she’d struggled to pay attention to what the woman was saying while rubbing her breasts and making them shine under the dim lights.

  No more for me.

  Now she went in with only a water bottle and her iPod. She kept to herself as she worked out, the way she liked it. No conversations, just Amy and the machines. In and out in two hours.

  The sign for Eagle’s Nest appeared on the left up ahead. One thing she had already taken care of was getting the marker fixed. Before, it had angled into the ground as if sinking into the grass. But now it was level again and she’d paid to have a new sign put on the posts.

  It looked nice—colorful and almost cozy.

  If only the rest of the park would be so easy to fix.

  She slowed the Jeep. Nobody was approaching from the other way, so she swung onto the gravel road.

  The horseshoe drive was full of holes and trenches that made the Jeep bounce as she drove. She’d probably have it paved before the end of summer. Her only qualm about doing so was keeping it up afterward. Asphalt cracked so easily, and she’d have to get it patched and coated in fresh tar every so often. She’d be paying for the blacktop for the rest of her life.

  The trailers that were in the worst conditions came first. On either side, huddled close together like cars in a parking lot, was beaten singlewides with small patches for yards. The tin siding had rusted into web-shaped blemishes that seemed to be spreading across the exteriors like infections. Others had bullet holes peppering the outside. Bullet holes! Tarnish ringed the tiny dots. Amy had often wondered where they’d come from. Was some drunken asshole shooting at his home? A drive-by?

  This is redneck country, come on. No drive-bys here. Not yet, anyway.

  Still, somebody had caused the holes.

  Amy passed two abandoned trailers with weed-choked lawns. Left behind cars occupied the driveways. Their windows and windshields were coated in dust and pollen.

  I really should come up with some kind of code of conduct. Have everyone sign it. Make them keep their yards up. And if their trailers need repairs, they have to get them done.

  It would be hard, like introducing a new law. Some would be fine with it, but there would be others who’d protest. Plus, so much time had gone by without any kind of rules like that, she’d be trying to teach old dogs new tricks. And some of them might try to bite her for it.

  Speaking of dogs...

  She wondered how Jagger was doing. Just as she usually would on gym days, she’d left him in the backyard to get his second dose of exercise while she was gone. Being fenced in, she didn’t have to worry about him getting into too much trouble. Sometimes she came home to fresh holes he’d dug, but that rarely happened.

  He’s probably ready to eat.

  And so was Amy. She’d been dreaming about chopping up a salad even before she was done working out. She had the supplies in the fridge. She’d even gotten a bag of cubed ham to sprinkle on top.

  Her mouth watered. It was hard to believe just adding some ham chunks and spinach to a salad made so much of a difference.


  She drove past the Rileys’ trailer. Neither was outside. Probably eating supper.

  It’s past supper time. You’re the only who hasn’t eaten yet.

  Maybe they were relaxing in the living room, watching TV. Not much else for them to do.

  Picturing them lounging in front of the television, looking bored, depressed Amy. She didn’t look forward to being their age, when every day was based on a routine.

  As she steered around the arch of the dirt road, she saw Janice’s trailer to her right and felt another kind of depression. Slowing down, she leaned forward and looked out.

  Nathan wasn’t in sight. Thank God. It was about this time of the day when she’d nearly run him over. A light was on in the kitchen, offering a pale shimmer in the waning light of the day.

  Frowning, Amy sped up. Hopefully an envelope would be waiting for her, but she doubted it. What was she going to do about Janice? Amy had made it clear that the single mother had to at least pay her something. If she still didn’t give her any kind of rent, Amy would be forced to act.

  How, she didn’t know.

  Amy didn’t think she could be cruel enough to make her leave.

  But I can’t let her keep her trailer here for free.

  Amy felt a jittery sensation in her belly. She didn’t want to worry about Janice right now. It would only sour her mood. All she wanted to concern herself with at the moment was whether to chop the salad before or after her shower.

  After.

  That was an easy decision. If Teresa wasn’t home, she might not even get dressed. Just brush her hair and let the air dry her body.

  She felt a slight tingling between her legs at the idea. Something about being naked was exciting, even if the only person there to see her was Jagger.

  And that’s also a little sad.

  More than a little, she realized, but she didn’t care. It was her life, and she’d gotten used to it. So much so, she kind of looked forward to spending some time alone with her big guy.

  Wouldn’t matter. Teresa was bound to be back by now. Amy had tried reaching her friend a couple times today, and each time had gotten her voicemail. Amy figured Teresa was probably trying to get some things straightened out at her job. Probably explaining things to her boss, begging him not to fire her.