Roustabout (The Traveling #3) (14 page)

* 9AM FUNERAL PARLOR *

I shoved the cell into my pocket and slipped out of the room.

Heat made the air shimmer as I stepped into the parking lot. I squinted at the morning sun and pulled my shades over my eyes. I couldn’t see anyone looking at me. I should have checked last night that the goon hadn’t seen me. But being with Tera made me feel ten feet tall and to hell with the consequences.

I mounted the Duke and rode into town.

Renee’s text had brought me back to earth and the realities of why I was here in this shithole.

I stopped at a diner and ordered biscuits and gravy, then sat and drank the bitter black coffee that must have been brewed a couple of hours ago. Sweat trickled down my back and dampened the armpits of my t-shirt as a noisy fan rattled overhead. The plastic seating was cracked and worn, the mug I drank from was chipped, and the smell of grease clung to the air.

I couldn’t imagine bringing Tera to a place like this. My reality was truck stops and living like a gypsy. Hers was limos and guys in suits.

For the first time in a long time, I tried to imagine my future, any sort of future. But it was a cloudy nothing. Where was Madam Sylva when I needed her? That old gal was plenty spooky when she started with her fortune-telling. But damn if she didn’t call it right more often than not.

I glanced at the clock on the wall and realized I couldn’t put it off any longer.

I left the Ducati by the curb and walked the fifty yards to ‘Friendly’s Funeral Parlor’, the sun burning the back of my neck.

A beaten up Dodge Ram was parked outside and I wondered if it belonged to my asshole stepbrothers. It would be like them not to fix the oil leak that I could see staining the dirt below the engine casing, or the bent wipers that probably didn’t work.

I took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

The air conditioning raised goose bumps on my arms immediately—either that or the shock of seeing Jason and Jackson.

They were sitting on a black pleather sofa looking bored, with Renee in an armchair. Jason wore bib overalls and Jackson was wearing faded jeans. Only the scar on Jason’s face clued me in to which of them was which—I’d put that scar there when I was 12. Scotty was messing with a brick of a cell phone and ignoring his parents and uncle.

I scanned the rest of the room, but thankfully Randolph wasn’t there. Even I knew you shouldn’t start a fight in a funeral parlor.

Renee looked up as I walked toward them.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” she said.

I shrugged. “Didn’t have anywhere else to be.”

We all stared at each other in ugly silence. Then Jackson got to his feet and held out his hand.

“Tucker.”

I hesitated for a second before shaking his hand.

“Jackson.”

Then Jason hauled himself up, grabbing my hand briefly. “Reverend,” he smirked.

I’d forgotten he had that lame nickname for me. Just because Renee was the only girl I slept with and I used to try to look after Momma.

I gave his hand an extra hard squeeze and had the extreme fucking pleasure of seeing him wince.

Before things got more awkward, a man in a tired suit clapped his hands together, capturing our attention.

“Good morning, folks. I’m Bob Friendly. You’re here for the Foster viewing?”

Renee nodded and the man smiled quickly, before leading us into a room at the back.

Reluctantly, I eyed the body lying in an expensive looking casket, a vase of cut flowers next to her head.

The woman who’d brought me into the world.

If I hadn’t already known who she was, I wouldn’t have recognized the heavily-made up face or dyed hair that was blonder than mine. She was wearing a flowery dress that made her look as if she was going to a wedding.

But it wasn’t her. It was just a body, the empty shell. The person she’d been was long gone. I felt weird, like I should feel something more. I’d hated her for so long, but it seemed pointless now.

She looked decades older than her age.

We all stared at the corpse and I could see Scotty’s eyes flicking between us, wondering what he was supposed to do.

“Kiss your grandma,” said Jackson.

Scotty looked appalled. “I ain’t kissin’ a dead body!”

Jackson cuffed him around the ear and I couldn’t help wincing as the sharp sound echoed around the sterile room.

Scotty stumbled, rubbing his ear, then leaned forward so his lips almost brushed his grandma’s cheek: almost, but not quite.

Jackson narrowed his eyes, but then Renee moved forward, touching the back of the dead woman’s hand.

“Goodbye, Maggie. Thanks for taking me in.” Then she looked up at me. “We’ll leave you alone with your momma.”

Silence settled over the room as the door closed behind them. I wished they hadn’t left me here. I wished I could hear a clock ticking, anything to tell me that time was passing.

I didn’t know what to say. I felt like I ought to say something, but the words got stuck in my throat. Dust was getting in my eyes, making them water. Or maybe it was the damn flowers.

“You were a shitty mother,” I said at last, my voice too loud in the tomb-like room. “You never stood up for me against Randolph. Not even once. Why didn’t you leave him, Momma? We could have gone away, started again someplace else. But I guess there’s no point blaming you now. I hope it’s better where you are. Did you find my pa?” It felt weird talking to the empty room, but I carried on, the words tumbling out. “I’m doing good now—stunt riding in a carnival. Maybe you know that. Yeah, I’m . . . I’m good.”

I stared down at the familiar unfamiliar face and shook my head. This was too weird.

I wiped my hands over my eyes and took a deep breath, looking for the last time at a woman who should never have had a kid.

“Bye, Momma.”

They were all waiting on the sofa, Scotty listening to music through his ear buds, the tinny music sounding loud in the quiet room. Jackson looked bored and Jason was taking a nap. Renee sat apart from them, staring out the window.

As soon as I appeared, the guy in the ugly suit came back, and Jason jerked awake.

“Was everything to your satisfaction?”

It seemed liked a strange question, but Renee answered immediately.

“That wasn’t the casket I picked out.”

“Ah no,” Bob smiled at her, showing a missing tooth in his lower jaw. “That’s our viewing casket. We like to make it nice. For the family, you know?”

“Uh huh,” she said, her cold gaze unwavering.

The man gave her a professional smile. “I have your invoice for the cremation and . . .”

“Cremation?” I said, surprised. “Didn’t she want to be buried next to . . . next to my father?”

Momma never visited his grave; didn’t care that it got overgrown with weeds. Even so, I’d just assumed . . .

Renee barked out a laugh. “Sure, if you want to pay $10,000 for a burial and a memorial service.”

Bob Friendly looked at me appraisingly. “I’d be happy to make the arrangements if you’d prefer a . . .”

“Save it, Bob,” Renee said coldly. “Tucker won’t be paying out for that.”

“If you folks would like to discuss it further . . . ?”

Renee stood up suddenly and dumped an envelope into his hands, making Bob back up. “Here’s $500. We’ll pay the rest later,” and she threw me a look.

Bob Friendly cleared his throat. “I’ll need the balance tomorrow. We wouldn’t want any delay to the service.”

Renee narrowed her eyes. “No, we wouldn’t want that, would we, Bob?”

She swept out of the room and the rest of us trailed behind her.

At the truck, she stopped and looked at me.

“The ceremony is at the crematorium. Ten o’clock.” Then she smirked. “Bring the other $500 with you.”

At least now I knew why she’d insisted I come to the damn funeral.

Renee climbed into the truck and Scotty jumped into the flatbed at the back. Jackson cleared his throat, his eyes shooting to his brother.

“You have $500?”

I turned my head slowly to stare at him. “Looks like I’ll have to find it.”

He nodded quickly. “We’re a little short this month after all the, um, expenses. Kid needs supplies for school, you know?”

I laughed out loud. “I’ll bring $500, but that’s it. Where’s Randolph?”

Jason answered. “Dad wasn’t feeling too good this morning.”

I nodded, not needing to hear more. “If he starts anything tomorrow . . .”

I left the words hanging in the air.

Jason snickered, his scarred face folding into a scowl.

“You think you’re something special with your fancy motorcycle, but the only thing you were ever good at was taking a beating.”

“It took two of you when I was a kid,” I grinned at him. “You want to try now, feel free,” and I held out my arms from my sides, inviting him to take a swing.

When he didn’t, I laughed out loud.

“You’re yeller, Jason, just like you always were. And man! You’re so ugly that when you were born, I heard that the doctor slapped your momma.”

His eyes narrowed and I tensed my body, waiting for his attack.

But Renee leaned on the horn angrily and Jason muttered something under his breath.

I watched them climb into the truck and drive away, dust clogging the air long after they’d gone.

That went better than I’d expected.

The nearest ATM was across the road, so I walked over to draw out five hundred bucks. I winced when I saw that my account had less than $800 in it. Damn, it could be a few weeks till next pay day. I’d have to ditch the motel, even if it was cheap. The weather was warm, I could sleep outside.

Or I could sleep with Tera
.

I shook my head. I couldn’t keep thinking like that.

Feeling weirded out by the whole day, I drove back to the motel, paid my $35 for a room I hadn’t used, and packed up my shit. I’d almost convinced myself to leave the money and get the hell out of town when my cell rang.

“Hey, sexy! Miss me yet?”

I couldn’t help grinning, even though she couldn’t see me.

“Is that Miss Manning, my old High School teacher?”

Tera laughed.
“It wouldn’t surprise me at all to hear that your teacher was crushing on you.”
She paused.
“You like picnics?”

“Uh, I guess?”

“Good. Meet me in the hotel parking lot in thirty minutes. Don’t be late!”

And with another laugh, she hung up.

I stared at the phone. For the billionth time, I wondered what the hell I was doing.

Tera

I expected Tucker to balk at the idea of going on a picnic with me—a picnic was much more date-like than dinner and a booty call. But I was trying to think of ways to take his mind off why he was here. I could tell when he was thinking about the funeral, because he’d start frowning and that distant, detached look would be back in his eyes.

Inviting Tucker on a picnic was far more calculated than asking him to come to my room last night. But if he really didn’t want to go, he was smart enough to invent an excuse. Now though, I was a little nervous that he’d expect more sex every time we met up—including right now; not that I was averse to it, but I was still a senator’s daughter. Being caught having sex outside was a big no-no, it was also a misdemeanor, not to mention the shitstorm that would rain down on my father because of me.

I heard the Ducati pulling into the hotel’s parking lot, wondering what it would be like to ride behind Tucker on that beautiful bike with its white frame and sexy red wheels, but I wasn’t dressed for anything like that and anyway, he’d never asked me. Last night he’d followed my cab back to the hotel. Well, he probably wasn’t traveling with a spare helmet. Probably.

Today, I’d decided to rent a car—I thought it would be good for both of us to get out of town for a few hours.

He swung a long leg over the bike and strolled toward me, smiling broadly.

“You’re a sight for sore eyes,” he said, and for a moment I thought he was going to kiss me, but then he seemed to think better of it and pulled back, glancing around him quickly.

I gave him an amused smile.

“Hello, dear, how was your day?”

“Better for seeing you,” he grinned.

“Oh my God! That was so cheesy! Do you get all your lines out of a Cracker Jack’s box?”

“Only my best ones.”

I shook my head sadly. “That’s what worries me.”

“Aw, you worrying about me again, darlin’?”

“Only the same way I’d worry about vaginal warts.”

Tucker winked at me. “I won’t tell if you don’t.”

“Get in the car before I come to my senses.”

He tossed his helmet in the back, then slid into my passenger seat.

“Where are you taking me?” he asked. “Or is it a secret?”

“Yes, they’ll find your body wrapped in plastic in a ditch about six months from now.”

“Wrapped in plastic, huh? I didn’t know you were so kinky, TC, but I kinda like it.”

“Kinky? That’s not kinky.”

He glanced across and smiled. “Well, what’s your definition?”

“I think of it this way: erotic is . . . when I use a feather.”

“Yeah?”

“Kinky is when you use the whole chicken.”

He laughed out loud. “Damn! Why does it sound hot when you say it?”