Unfinished Hero 02 Creed (11 page)

His Sylvie.

Motherfucking
asshole.

“Long gone,” I verified.

“Right,” he muttered like he didn’t believe me.

“Right,” I repeated firmly.

“So who was that who smiled big at that Down’s kid this morning like he started her day and touched her forehead to his making him look like she started his?”

No way I was going to let him get to me.

“That was Adam’s Sylvie.”

“You ran across the yard like you’d just received a bomb threat, baby, not like you were five minutes late to help your girl. You don’t miss a day even if you have to haul your ass over there hungover. You dropped a job when Josh got sick and your dead partner’s wife had to work so you could look after him. She doesn’t know it but it’s you that puts red and white roses with a blue ribbon on his grave every fuckin’ Sunday. And you took me on just so you could take Knight’s back. That wasn’t Adam’s Sylvie. It’s not Charlene’s Sylvie. It’s not even Knight’s Sylvie. It’s just plain Sylvie. The one I knew. She’s not gone. She’s standing right in front of me.”

“You hold onto that, Creed, you’re gonna get fucked.”

“Jesus, I hope so.”

I clamped my mouth shut.

Then I unclamped it to declare, “I feel the need to get drunk. We’ll pick this up tomorrow.”

“You need a ride home from the bar, you just call me,” he invited.

“Handsome, you’ll never hear from me. To get down to your name in my phone, I’ve got two whole letters.”

It was his turn to clamp his mouth shut.

I took that as my cue to go.

So I did.

I stopped in order to glare at Gun who was curled up in the seat of a dining room chair fast asleep. My glare was for her being in the mood to nap and thus deserting me in my hour of need. However, since she was snoozing, she missed my glare. Still, it made me feel better.

I also stopped to yank on another pair of socks and boots and grab my keys.

But me, my jeans, tank, boots and socks, commando and braless, walked right out the door and, like we had many,
many
times before, we took on the night.

The Best Birthday Ever

A sunny, summer by a lake in Kentucky, twenty-seven years earlier, Creed is twelve, Sylvie is seven. It’s her birthday…

I peddled my bike quick over the trail in the trees to get to the lake.

I didn’t want to miss him.

We didn’t get to do this a lot. It was hard to get away from Daddy but when he was at work, my stepmom was usually drinking that clear stuff straight from the bottle, so it wasn’t hard to get away from her. I just had to be careful and Tuck told me we couldn’t be greedy. Greedy was stupid. The more chances we took, the more chances we took on getting caught.

So we only did it special.

Like today.

My birthday.

This didn’t count the nights. Tuck said I could come anytime at night, I just had to be careful.

So I did.

Whenever the words came, me and Bootsie would sneak out of the house and go to Tuck’s. I’d knock on the window and, always, my knuckles would barely hit the glass before it flew up. Sometimes, he’d stick his head out and tell me he’d meet me in the woods. If his Mom was gone, he’d stick the whole top of his body out the window, grab me under my arms and pull me in. Then he’d go back out, hanging almost all the way out so every time he did it I was scared he’d fall but he never did, and he did this so he could grab Bootsie and bring her in with us.

In the woods or in his bedroom, we’d talk and even though he was a whole lot older than me, we always had tons of stuff to talk about. What we liked to eat. TV programs we liked to watch. Movies we’d seen. Folks in town. He’d talk about his Dad. I’d talk about my Mom and my visits with her when she’d come get me and take me to Lexington for her weekends with me.

If we spent time in the woods or in his bedroom, no matter what, he’d walk me home to the back gate of the fence around my backyard.

The lake came into view and I saw him, his tanned bare back to me, sitting on the end of the pier and just like always, seeing him made my belly feel funny. The kind of funny it felt right before you got on a ride at the carnival or amusement park. That kind of funny.

I stopped my bike by his, jumped off, grabbed the stuff in my basket and laid my bike on its side in the grass.

Then I raced down the path to the pier, jumped up on it and raced down the wood planks.

Tuck turned and watched me, his lips curled up.

I stopped at the end and my, “Hi!” sounded breathy.

“Hi,” Tuck replied.

I shoved the frozen Snickers bars at him. “Brought ‘em!” I cried and then flipped off my shoes and sat down beside him at the end of the pier.

His legs were dangling down, so long, his feet were covered in water up past his ankles. My legs were so short I had to point my toes for the water to skim the tips.

He took a Snickers bar and started to rip it open.

I ripped open mine and bit hard into the frozen caramel and nougat.

“I couldn’t make a picnic. She was in the kitchen,” I told him through Snickers bar.

“That’s okay, Sylvie,” he told me through a mouth full of his.

“But she’s, you know…” I didn’t tell him what he knew and kept talking. “So she’s out of it. We can swim and do it for a long time. Daddy’s away on business and she’ll probably be sleeping when I get home so we can spend all day here if we want.”

“Your Dad’s gone on your birthday?”

They way he said that made me turn my head and look up at him.

“Yeah.”

He stared at me then looked back at the water, lifted his Snickers bar to his mouth and bit off a huge chunk.

I felt bad since he didn’t have a Dad and I knew, with the way he talked about him, that what he would want most in the whole world was his Dad being there for his birthday. I didn’t really care if Daddy was at mine. In fact, he always made me wear dresses that were too fancy on my birthday so it felt mean, but I was kinda glad he wasn’t.

We sat together and sifted our feet through the water, staring at it and chewing on our Snickers bars and we did this until Tuck finished his. He shoved the wrapper in his cutoff jeans shorts pocket. Then he dug in his other one and I watched him come out with a little, white cardboard box.

He handed it to me.

“Happy birthday, Sylvie.”

I stared down at the box then I looked up at him. “Wow.”

He grinned at me.

I liked presents and I liked it more that he gave me one but that grin would have been enough for me.

“We don’t have wrapping paper and I used all my allowance on that so I couldn’t buy any,” he told me.

“That’s okay!” I chirped, threw off the top of the box and looked down at the gold necklace with the tiny twinkling green jewel hanging off the chain, this attached to a little sheet of plastic.

“They said that’s a peridot. Your birthstone,” Tuck’s voice came at me.

I tipped my head back to look at him. “I like it. Green’s my favorite color.”

He grinned at me again.

“I’m gonna wear it always, Tuck,” I whispered and was about to pull it out so I could put it on but his face went funny and he shook his head.

“It’s cheap, Sylvie,” he said quiet. “The girl I bought it from said you can’t get it wet. It’ll make your skin turn green.”

“I don’t care,” I told him.

“Your Dad will,” he told me.

He would.

Darn.

I looked back down at the necklace and said soft, “I’ll wear it all the other times when I’m not in the water.”

“Okay,” he replied.

I looked up at him and smiled.

Then I jumped up to my feet, ran back to my bike, put the necklace in the basket with my Snickers wrapper because Tuck said his Dad said that littering was bad and you should never do it. So we never did.

I ran back down the pier pulling off my t-shirt and stopping to tug off my shorts. I had my bathing suit underneath.

“
Cannonball!
” I yelled and dashed down the rest of the pier. I jumped straight off the end as high in the air as I could get. I curled my arms around my tucked legs and hit the warm water.

I barely surfaced before I heard and saw Tuck hit the water beside me.

I smiled.

He surfaced, took one stroke and made it to me then he ducked me.

I came up laughing.

We did cannonballs and dives and had ducking contests and floated and had swimming contests that Tuck let me win because it was my birthday and we did it for hours.

When I got home, my stepmom was asleep so I didn’t get caught being gone and spending the day with Tuck at the lake.

It was the best birthday ever.

Ever.

I’m What You Need

Present day…

My eyes opened and I stared at the alarm clock amongst the junk on my nightstand.

Fuck.

Last night I picked bourbon. I should have picked tequila.

I pulled myself out of bed then I lugged myself down the hall to the bathroom. I used the facilities, washed my face, brushed my teeth, downed numerous gulps of water cupped in my hand and was walking out when I heard the front door open and close.

Right. Well then. There it was.

God did not answer my prayers and made yesterday a bad dream like that whole season of
Dallas
where Bobby was dead and then,
poof
, the next season he’s in the shower.

It would appear that, yesterday, Tucker Creed actually did come back into my life, I agreed to partner up with him then ended the evening eating his food and fucking him.

Shit.

Great.

I wandered into the living room, through the entry and rounded the wall into the dining room.

There I saw a bakery box on the counter and a hot guy behind it with a small raised bruise on his cheekbone, an angry bite mark on his neck, a white, paper coffee cup in one hand, and, to my expert donut discerning eye, a Boston cream in the other.

His assessing eyes came to me. “Mornin’.”

“Guh,” I mumbled and ignored his quick grin by looking down at my cat, who had her face in her food bowl.

I stopped and stared. Hard.

Gun felt it and looked up at me.

“Meow,” she defended herself and she had a right. She was a cat. Food was food whoever gave it to you.

Still, I returned, “Traitor.”

I heard a chuckle, my eyes cut to Creed then down to the big box and I continued wandering his way, asking, “Did you buy donuts for the whole block in an effort to get your partner close in order to have dozens more reasons to keep me not dead?”

“No, I bought enough donuts to make Charlene and her kids happy for a morning.”

Shit, they were going to love that. These days, donuts did it for them. Then again, they were the kind of family, simple pleasures always did. Save Dan, the Douchebag, of course.

I stopped opposite the counter and looked back up at him. “Have I told you you’re an asshole today?”

“You just got up, so no.”

“You’re an asshole.”

He grinned again.

I threw open the baker’s box and plucked out a glazed. I usually went for the fancy, complicated donuts. It was feeling like a glazed day.

I bit into it and looked back at Creed, saying through sugar and fried dough, “Coffee?”

He scooted a white paper cup across the counter toward me.

I picked it up, sipped and closed my eyes.

Ah,
good.

“What was that about me bein’ an asshole?” Creed asked.

I opened my eyes but only to narrow them on him.

He burst out laughing and I glared at him while he did but I multitasked, glaring while taking another bite of donut and sucking back another sip of coffee.

He stopped laughing and trained his eyes on me. “Have a good night?”

“No. I lost two hundred dollars playing pool.”

“Meet your match?”

“No. I suck at pool. Fuck drunk texting. Drunk pool betting is where your shit will get burned.”

That got me a full blown smile before he asked, “Where’s your ‘Vette?”

“A parking lot outside The X, hopefully resting easy under the benevolent eye of the Kickass Car God.”

“I’m sure she’ll be fine,” he reassured me.

I took another huge bite of donut, chewed twice and said through partially chewed dough, “I hope so.” More chewing then, “She isn’t, I’ll curl up in the closet and I swear, I won’t come out for a week.” More chewing, I swallowed then, “And, just saying, I’ll take my gun with me and if you open the door for any purpose other than to toss in food and beer, I’ll shoot you.”

Through another grin, he muttered, “I’ll take that under advisement.”

“Don’t think I’m joking.”

He kept grinning.

Then his grin faded before he asked, “How’d you get home?”

“Don’t know. Ride for a blowjob. I think he was blond though.”

His anger instantly started slithering through the room.

“Don’t play with me,” he whispered. “You think my ass didn’t wait for yours to get home?” he asked and before I could answer, he went on. “She was a redhead, way too much makeup and you both giggled your way all the way up to the door. Though she was giggling like a lunatic, she walked straight back to her car so she wasn’t loaded, like you.”

“She wasn’t a she, she was a he.”

“She had way more tits and ass than you.”

“Foam rubber, Creed. The X is a gay bar. She’s a drag queen. Her name is Uqueesha.”

The Creed anger snake retreated and his brows shot up.

“That bitch was a dude?”

I nodded. “That bitch was a dude.”

“Fuck, didn’t call that,” he muttered.

“Maybe Grandpa needs his eyes checked,” I muttered back and those eyes that I insinuated needed checked narrowed on me.

I took another bite of donut and grinned big through dough.

He took a bite of his and chased it with coffee.

Then before I could stop it, right after I swallowed, I asked, “You waited for me to get home?”

He said nothing, just looked at me.

Suddenly, standing at the bar to my kitchen, it felt weirdly like the sun was shining warm down on me.