Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (9 page)

“As long as my blood gets to my dick, I’m good.”

That’s when Aimee smacked me upside the head.

“Ow! What the hell’s that for?”

“I could give you a long list of reasons,” she smirked, “but really, do I need one?”

“No,” laughed Ollo. “Hit him again, Aimee. It’s like watching whack-a-mole, but more fun.”

Aimee ignored us both, dishing up something that may or may not have been meatloaf. I was too hungry to care.

I’d only taken a couple of mouthfuls before she started.

“Did you call your brother yet?”

“Stepbrother,” I said, without looking up. “I’m not related to that asshole.”

“Okay, stepbrother: so, did you call?”

Kes shot her a look, but she ignored him.

I’d been working hard all day to forget that Asshole 1 or Asshole 2 had been in touch. Unfortunately, not answering didn’t work.

“Did you?” she persisted.

I threw my fork down and stared straight back at her.

“Hey, Aimee, you’re a teacher: how do you spell o-bitch-uary?”

I laughed at my own joke. It was pretty funny for spur of the moment. Hmm, looked like I was the only person who thought so.

“Wait, I got another one for you,” I said, tipping a second beer down my throat and wiping my mouth on the back of my hand, but Aimee’s wounded expression made me shut the hell up.

I immediately regretted the lame joke, but she had no idea what she was talking about.

“That’s enough, man,” Kes said quietly.

My appetite was officially done, so I left my plate of food on the ground for Bo who dropped the piece of pineapple he’d been eating and dove in.

I envied the hairy little dude: eat, sleep, shit, repeat.

I grabbed a bottle of Johnny Walker and a six-pack, ignoring the loaded looks. Whatever—we didn’t have a show tonight—and I headed out.

I didn’t know where I was going—somewhere people weren’t talking at me all of the time.

For a second, I was tempted to call Tera. But hell, she didn’t need my shit, and she’d made it damn clear that all she was offering was sex. Of course she wouldn’t want to get mixed up with a guy like me—or the shit that my life had been before I joined the carnival.

I was halfway across the fairground before I knew where I was going.

Jade was one of a pair of trapeze artists that traveled with us. I’d hooked up with her a couple of months back and she’d let me know that she’d be up for another go-around. She was cool, and the only reason I was prepared to make an exception to my rules was because she wasn’t interested in a relationship. And I really needed to get laid right now. I needed to stop thinking, stop feeling. I needed to be me, the Tucker McCoy who didn’t give a shit about anyone else.

She was doing stretches outside her RV when I walked up, her body bending and flexing in some seriously crazy ways.

“Hey, Tucker! Aw, you brought whiskey. You might just be the ideal man.”

She grinned, and relief flowed through me. I wouldn’t have to talk, wouldn’t have to think about anything else tonight.

I crouched down next to her and pulled her lips toward me, kissing her hard. I ignored the voice in my brain that said she didn’t taste as good as Tera.

“Someone’s eager,” she said breathlessly. But then she pulled away. “Jeez, Tucker, you stink. When did you last shower?”

“Earlier,” I mumbled against her neck. “Morning.”

“Yeah, well I’m not going to fuck you smelling like that. Go take a shower.”

“Come with me,” I said, pulling her to her feet.

I didn’t have to ask twice.

I fucked her in the shower and twice in her bed. Hours later, as the carnival sank into silence, she snored softly. For me, sleep was as far away as ever. I needed the distraction of a show, needed the concentration of a performance, because that meant there was no space in my head to think of anything else.

But now, with the too quiet space around me, I couldn’t even close my eyes, because when I tried, I saw Tera’s beautiful face staring at me, disappointment curling the sides of her mouth downwards.

Why the hell did I feel guilty? She wanted a hookup and that’s what she got—no strings.
But that didn’t stop the acid pooling in my gut. Tired and frustrated, I scrubbed at my eyes.

If sex didn’t work, I’d try booze.

I rolled out of her bed quietly and headed back to the RV. I checked my phone, seeing two missed calls from Tera, but she hadn’t left a message.

We were supposed to hook up again tonight, but I couldn’t use her like that. She was sweet, decent. And she was Kes’s sister.
What the fuck had I been thinking?

Zef was sitting outside the RV drinking from a bottle of bourbon. He handed it to me without asking where I’d been, and we sat there quietly as the bottle passed between us.

Eventually, he spoke.

“You gonna carry on ignoring this?” he asked.

I took another swallow, beginning to feel numb at last.

“Yep.”

Zef raised an eyebrow. “Real mature, Tucker.”

“Yep.”

He took the bottle out of my hands and took another long slug. “You never asked me why I was in prison.”

I looked at him sideways. “None of my business, bro.”

“Yeah, I used to think that was the reason, but it’s because you didn’t want anyone to ask questions about you, isn’t it?”

I didn’t answer, but he didn’t expect me to either.

“If I’d dealt with my shit earlier, maybe I wouldn’t have gotten arrested,” he said. “Maybe I wouldn’t have let down my little brother and gotten sent away when he needed me. Maybe . . .”

“Is this your bedtime story now?” I asked, leaning back on my elbows. “And the moral of this story is . . . ?

He replied evenly, “you’ve gotta sort your shit. Sooner rather than later.”

He stood up and screwed the lid back on the bourbon before taking it with him.
Douche
.

I rubbed my hands over my face and stared up at the stars, listening to the sounds of the sleeping carnival.

Nearby I could hear one of the rodeo horses snickering quietly. Creaks and groans from wood and cooling metal sounded loud in the night. Smoke drifted on the air, our ritual bonfire burning the final embers. Somewhere I could hear a guitar playing, one of those sad fucking songs that Luke always liked. I guess that was because he knew his boyfriend Zach had a permanent hard-on for Kes. I didn’t understand why people did that—be with someone when they were in love with someone else. Being second-best sucked. Maybe I wasn’t the only person who needed to get their shit together.

This was my home. This was where I belonged, where I felt free. But it wasn’t where I’d started out.

My world had been small, dark and cruel and there was no fucking way I was going back.

I wondered if it was Jackson or Jason who’d called, then decided I didn’t care. They were both assholes.

I must have fallen asleep because the next thing I felt was the toe of Kes’s boot in my ribs.

“Morning, fucker.”

I squinted up at him and grinned. “I keep telling you my name is Tucker, but I guess that’s too complicated for you.”

“Aimee’s making pancakes. Better apologize to her or she’ll burn yours.”

I sat up slowly, groaning as my body protested at the hard ground and the two mean little men stomping around inside my head.

I needed wake-up water: coffee, hot and strong.

“Yeah, okay,” I said. “Sorry, man.”

“Tell her, not me,” he said, shrugging as he walked off.

I shuffled into the RV’s kitchen. From the stiffness in Aimee’s shoulders, I could tell she knew I was there.

“My two favorite things,” I said, “a beautiful woman who’s cooking me breakfast.”

She turned around and glared at me while I smiled back. When she turned away, she stabbed at the pancakes with her spatula.
Yeah, I was going to have to try harder.

I walked across and wrapped my arms around her waist, leaning my chin on her shoulder.

“I’m sorry, Aimee. You know me—if my mouth was any bigger I’d have a foot in each cheek at the same time.”

“You’re such an asshole,” she said, but I could tell she’d accepted my apology.

“But a cute asshole?” I prompted.

“No, you smile too much,” she snapped.

“I can’t help it. I was born smiling and they had to smack my cute ass to see if I really could cry.”

“You’re so full of shit, Tucker,” she said, laughing reluctantly.

“Run away with me, Aimee,” I begged, falling to my knees and holding my hands up in front of me. “Leave that loser behind and . . .”

My throat closed up as Kes grabbed me in a headlock and wrestled me to the ground. He wasn’t being any too gentle either.

“Hands off of my girl, fucker,” he growled.

Seeing as I couldn’t breathe too well, I tapped out ‘uncle’ admitting that he’d won, and Kes grudgingly let me go.

Aimee stood over me shaking her head and smiling.

“You can take that as a no, Tucker.”

“I know you want me really,” I wheezed, and Kes gave me an angry stare.

“Just eat your pancakes,” Aimee sighed, throwing a warning glance at Kes.

Zef arrived just as I was forking delicious hot pancakes with sweet syrup into my mouth.

He tossed his cell phone on the table.

“They’ve started calling me now, bro.”

I didn’t have to ask who he meant. Suddenly the pancake tasted like old cheese and I had a hard job swallowing past the brick in my throat.

Aimee sat down opposite me. “You have to go, Tucker. She was your mother.”

Kes frowned. “It’s up to him what he does.”

“This isn’t just about him,” she pressed quietly. “His family needs him, or they wouldn’t be calling all of us.”

“I’m not going anywhere,” I said fiercely. “We’ve got a show tonight. The show must go on, right?”

“We can do a two-man show,” Kes said carefully. “You guys did that all last season to save my ass.” He shrugged and met my eyes. “Just do what you gotta do, Tucker. We’re cool either way.”

Zef pushed his phone toward me. “Call them.”

I looked at his cell phone the way I might look at a rattlesnake.

“I always wondered what an intervention was like,” I muttered, only half joking.

Kes cracked a smile but nobody laughed. I sighed—tough audience today.

“Fine, I’ll make the call, but you fu—” Aimee glared at me. “Um, never mind.”

I picked up Zef’s phone to call the number, reluctant from the soles of my feet to the tips of my fingers. But maybe they were right; maybe I needed to deal with this shit once and for all.

Or maybe this was the worst decision I’d made in a lifetime of bad decisions.

I dialed and it was answered on the second ring.

“Did you talk to him? Did you speak to Tucker?”

When I heard a woman’s voice, I nearly dropped the phone.

“Hello?”

I strode away from the RV. I didn’t want anyone to hear this conversation. Hell, I didn’t want to hear it myself.

“Hello?”

I steeled myself so no emotion showed. “Hello, Renee.”

There was a sharp intake of breath.
“Tucker?”

“Yeah.”

“Jackson is in the shower, so I answered his cell. We’ve been waiting to hear from you . . .”

She was with Jackson?

She’d spoken rapidly as if she was nervous, but now her voice tailed off and we listened to each other breathing down the line.

“How are you?”

“I heard Momma died.”

There was a pause.

“Yes, I’m sorry for your loss.”

I laughed harshly but didn’t answer.

“I’m sorry for everything,”
she said softly.

I rubbed my forehead, the ache worsening with every word.

“Are you coming home?”

“This is my home.”

She sighed.
“Are you coming back to Tennessee? The funeral is on Friday. I . . . we . . . your brothers would really like to see you.”

“Stepbrothers. And I doubt it.”

“Please, Tucker,”
she said quietly.
“You need to come.”

“No, I really don’t need to,” I bit out.

There was another long silence.

“For me?”

I shook my head even though she couldn’t see me, but words wouldn’t come.

“Please, Tucker,”
she begged, her voice breaking on my name.

She knew I hated that. I was furious to find it still worked.

“I’ll be there,” I said, and ended the call.

I needed a minute before I faced my friends. It had shaken me to hear Renee’s voice after all this time. I’d never thought she’d still be living there, let alone answering my stepbrother’s cell.

I slumped onto the bottom step of the empty carousel and leaned back against the black-and-white stripes of a wooden zebra, staring at the sun reflecting off gold hooves. His painted mouth seemed to laugh as he gazed at the short tail of the giraffe in front of him.

“You have it easy, man,” I said, scrubbing my hands over my unshaven jaw. “You just got to stand there and look pretty, and . . .”

“ . . . and travel in circles all day long with screaming brats sitting on your back.”

I squinted into the sun as Jade stood in front of me, her hands planted on her narrow hips.