Someone to Watch Over Me (32 page)

Still unable to look me in the eye, he
nodded. “Ma’am.”

I had to pinch my lips together so that I
didn’t laugh.

“My point is stress affects people in all
different manners. I threw up. It’s a case of posttraumatic stress
or delayed shock or something. Besides, I’m a grown woman. I don’t
need you calling Tate every time I don’t feel good. He isn’t my
damn keeper.”

The idiot actually looked at me in
disagreement.

“Jesus, Taylor, do you want to tell him
every time I fart too?”

“Ma’am,” Taylor sighed. Closing his eyes, he
searched for a breath of guidance. Note to self: Taylor is easily
discomfited over bodily functions and matters of sexual nature.

“Do you know how ridiculous this whole
conversation is?”

“Unquestionably.”

“Then we can forget this. It never
happened.”

“Agreed.”

“Thank you, Taylor.” Before he could object,
I pressed a kiss to his cheek and paraded up the stairs, leaving
him red and blushing. I guess he wasn’t immune to my magnetism.

Marshall looked up and grinned when I
reached the top of the stairs. He was sitting in Taylor’s seat,
rolling the newspaper in his hands. With a point of his finger, he
gestured for me to sit across from him. “You feel better now?”

“Much.”

“You puked, didn’t you?”

“Yup.”

“Thought you might. You were looking a
little green around the gills. Sometimes it’s best to jettison the
chunky cargo and get it over with.”

“You’re so wise, Marshall.”

“Nah, you haven’t batted an eye since
yesterday, Coop. It was only a matter of time until you finally
fell to pieces. I’d say you had a good case of delayed shock.”

“Taylor wanted to call Tate, or maybe
nine-one-one,” I said mockingly as Taylor plucked his mangled paper
from Marshall’s hand. Sitting across from Levy, he unrolled it and
began to smooth the thing out over the table.

“That would’ve worked too, except you’d have
a longer wait and a fifty dollar copay.” Questioningly, Marshall
arched an eyebrow. “You hungry now? I could get you something.”

“No, thank you.” Just the thought of fried
hamburgers with onions and mustard had my stomach turning again.
“It’s just an all around bad idea.”

“Understandable.” Sitting up, Marshall began
tidying the trays of salt and sugar, lining them up in neat and
tidy rows. He was nervous, delaying the inevitable.

“Marshall,” I said, dropping all traces of
good humor, “whom did you lose?”

“My little sister. She was still in high
school. Did cheerleading. She was a flyer, you know, like they’d
toss her up and catch her. Stuff like that. And it all made sense
in the beginning. She’d have finger marks on her arms or thighs.
She’d say she landed wrong. We had no reason not to believe her.
But slowly things changed. Stories didn’t match up. She became
withdrawn. Then one night a friend of hers called my mother, told
her what was really going on. She said Rachel had broken it off
with her boyfriend about two weeks earlier, and that he had been
harassing her. He had confronted her in school that day. They drove
off together after their last class. She was afraid for Rachel.

“Well, I lost it. I wanted to go after him,
but my mother begged me to stay out of it. I was over eighteen. He
wasn’t. She didn’t want me to get arrested. So I listened. But
Rachel didn’t come home that night. My mother finally caved. I was
just about to go find Rachel when the police pulled into the
driveway. He’d raped and strangled her. Said it was rough sex. She
liked
erotic asphyxiation
was what he claimed. She liked the
adrenaline rush. Jury believed it too. He got involuntary
manslaughter. Did only three years.”

“I’m so sorry.”

“Me too. Me too.” Tearing open a packet of
sugar, he poured the crystals on the table and began pushing them
around in hapless circles. “Most people just want to forget
everything, act as if it never happened. I suppose everybody copes
with things differently. Me, I sat back once. Not again. Never
again. If I can make a difference, even if it’s just protecting
your body with my own…”

“I appreciate your help, Marshall, but lying
to me was still wrong.” Em, Mr. Craig, Billy, Molly, my parents,
they were all in on it. I felt like a fool. I’d been played, duped,
guided like a mouse with a hunk of cheese. I felt oddly robbed of
my independence. I had prided myself on my accomplishments. I had
prevailed over Grant’s abuse. Now, I just felt gullible,
humiliated, and somewhat angry.

My job and my apartment, had they both been
prearranged? I’d filled out applications and sat through
interviews, and they were fucking shams? Well, it certainly knocked
my confidence down a few rungs. In my head, I began second-guessing
my life. Everything I knew was a lie. That promotion at work, had I
really earned it? Or that fat check Billy handed me, had my time on
stage really been the source of the profits? Or was I just a
flipping charity case?

I went from feeling as if I had paved my own
path in life to feeling as if Grant had defined who I was. I felt
small, weak, victimized. That sliver of control I had over my life
was nothing but a ruse.

“Someone should’ve told me.”

“I thought that’s what I just did.”

“A year too late, Marshall!” Standing, I
began to pack up Levy’s lunch, tossing the trash haphazardly onto
the tray. I refused to cry. I refused to feel guilty. I was hurt.
They’d all lied to me repeatedly. “Do you have any idea of what’s
going through my head right now?”

“You’re a woman, Coop. Most of the male race
often wonders that very thing.”

Taylor—who’d been trying to avoid eye
contact with me—choked and spewed hot coffee through his nose. His
expression, as he wiped his face, pleaded me to go lightly on
Marshall.

Unable to hold a straight face, I smiled. It
was vague and fleeting. My pride was hurt, but their intentions
were in the right place. “Could you stay angry at something so
dumb?” I asked Taylor.

“I’ve met a lot of women that would.”

“Like you said, they broke the mold when
they made me.” I winked conspiratorially. That’s not to say that I
wouldn’t give Marshall a hard time. He had groveling to do.

“He said that?” Marshall asked indignantly.
“When did he say that? I was gone five minutes and the two of you
are forming soul bonds? I’ve just sworn my life for you, Coop. I
bared my soul. I’ve told you my deepest, darkest secret. Doesn’t
that count for something?”

Panning the room, my gaze swept past
Marshall and back again. “Did you hear something, Taylor?”

“No, not the silent treatment again,”
Marshall groaned. “Anything but that.”

Ignoring Marshall, I lifted Levy from his
stool and rested him on my hip, then took the tray to the trash on
my way out the door.

“Coop?” Marshall whined, trailing behind.
“Coop? Come on, Coop!”

Chapter
17

B
ent at the waist
and clutching his stomach, Tate laughed so hard his eyes
teared.

“It really wasn’t that funny,” Shane
complained, but there was a grin toiling at the corners of
lips.

“You totally dropped trou in the middle of
the set,” Carter disagreed. “It was a fu—udging riot. We all just
stopped playing. I mean, you couldn’t help but look.”

Trying to hide my own smile, I read the
headline again. “Shane Richardson’s Crack Problem Goes Public.” I
can’t say I didn’t warn him.

“I’m going back to the back,” Shane
muttered.

“But I had an even better idea,” I spoke up.
“We could put you on this revolving platfor—”

“No!” Shane interjected.

“But—”

“No. No. No infinity.”

“Come on!”

“I think it’s a great idea,” Carter agreed.
He cracked open another beer on the edge of the counter. “Maybe if
we speed it up, he’ll actually keep time.”

“Fuck you!” The bus fell silent. Shane
realized what he did or rather said. I could only thank the heavens
that Levy was still asleep. Under his breath, he hissed another
long string of expletives. Tate had upped the ante by imposing
latrine duty on anyone who cursed on the bus. Up until now, it had
worked. Of course, looking at Carter’s smirk, I couldn’t help but
think that he had thrown that insult out there intentionally.

“Gloves are in the closet,” Tate advised,
making his way to the back of the bus. “You can start cleaning just
after I’m done with it.”

“God help me. If you stink it up in
there…”

“It won’t smell any worse than that trash
that comes out your mouth.”

“My mom used to say that,” Shane carped. “I
don’t get it, man. This used to be a tour bus. Now it’s a nursery
school. Maybe we should paint the thing yellow and smack a stop
sign on the side.”

Wow. Ok. If that didn’t make things
uncomfortable. Everyone just sort of looked at each other, unsure
of what to say. I was back to feeling like a wet blanket.

“Maybe we should smack some tape over your
mouth,” Carter suggested. “It would solve a lot bigger problems
than your foul language.”

Shane flipped him the bird and mouthed,
“Fuck off.”

“Coop, where’s the toothpaste you just
bought?” Tate called from the main cabin. He muttered something
about fur on his tongue while he rustled through the bags from the
pharm—turning on my heel, I rushed to the rear of the bus. I found
Tate staring blankly at the package of pregnancy tests I had
purchased after my fiasco at McDonalds the day before.

“Is this for real?” he asked, looking up
from the package.

I lifted my shoulder noncommittally.

“Are you?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t checked. I’m not
sure if it’ll show up yet.”

“It says up to a week before your missed
period,” he said, skimming over the text on the package. “Are you
late?”

“Not really.”

“When are you due?”

“Yesterday. Today. Tomorrow. It’s not an
exact science.”

“Coop.”

“What?” I exclaimed.

“You have to have some inkling of what’s
going on. Why else would you have bought this? What aren’t you
telling me?”

“I threw up yesterday,” I mumbled. I thought
I might throw up again. The conversation was only exasperating the
matter.

“You what?”

“I threw up.”

“When?”

“When I was out yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

Answering his question, my eyes brimmed with
tears. My breath caught in my throat. The sound that came out was
so girly I was almost embarrassed.

“Oh…oh, Jesus. Come here.” Pulling me into
his arms, he patted my back. “I didn’t mean to grill you like
that.”

I so wasn’t ready for this. I had planned to
put it off as long as possible. Acknowledging it would only make it
all the more real. I really didn’t want to see that little pink
line. I knew what it meant. Diapers. Bottles. Midnight feedings.
Two AM feedings. Three AM feedings.

“Didn’t we talk about this, Coop? It’s just
a bump in the road. Nothing we can’t handle. Think about it. We
already have one. What’s one more? This’ll be a piece of cake for a
pro like you.”

Indelicately, I snorted. “You have no
idea.”

“Look, we don’t even know for sure. Let’s do
that first. One thing at a time. Ok?” Pushing me to arms length, he
searched my face. “Ok?”

“Ok.” I nodded. My voice was thick with
tears.

“Alright then, let’s do this.” Grasping my
hand, Tate led me from the cabin. The bus was only so big, so I
shouldn’t have been surprised to bump into anyone during the short
distance to the bathroom. I really could’ve done without bumping
into anyone.

“Listen, Coop, I didn’t mean what I said
about the bus. It was a joke, a poorly made one,” Shane apologized.
His gaze dropped, unable to look me in the eye. In doing so, he
noticed the box in Tate’s hand. I knew by the look of shock that
crossed his face. “Oh man…I’ll uh…yeah…ok. It can wait.”

“Thanks man,” Tate scoffed, and pushed me
into the bathroom. I turned in the small space and stumbled back
when Tate stepped in behind me. “Sorry…sorry, just take a step
back. Give me some room. I’m coming in.”

“Tate, I think I can do this by myself.”

“I’m sure you can, but you’re not going
through this alone. Now drop your drawers and plant your ass on the
can.”

“Such class.”

“Yeah, well, call me Mr. Congeniality.”
While I assumed position, Tate tore the box open and shook two of
the three wands into his hand.

“I think one will do.”

“One for me and one for you, babe.” Tearing
the wrapper for the first, he passed it to me, and then quickly
began on the second. “What are you waiting for?”

“I can’t go with you standing there. You’re
going to have to run the water or something.” Tate rolled his eyes,
but obliged by reaching back and twisting the faucet. The stream of
water that burbled out was sad and uncharacteristically quiet.
“Sing or something, and stop staring.”

“Sing?”

“Sing.”

Lifting his shoulder, Tate cleared his
throat.

“
In-a-gadda-da-vida, honey

“
Don't you know that I love you?

“
In-a-gadda-da-vida,baby

“
Don't you know that I'll always be
true?

“
Oh,won't you come with me and take my
hand?

“
Or,won't you come with me and walk this
land?

“
Ah, please take my
—You’re laughing!
You told me to sing, and now you’re laughing at me!” Leaning
against the sink, he crossed his arms over his chest, feigning
offense.

“In a Gadda Da Vida?”

“It’s the first thing that came to
mind.”

“Give me the other one.” I swapped out the
wands, making sure each was sufficiently saturated. I wanted no
mistakes. I couldn’t go through the hysterics again. Once was
enough, thank you very much. My nerves were already shot to
hell.