Trashy (11 page)

Buck

If I was concerned about the truck before, I’m not now. Vickie drives slow as shit. Seriously, she’s like a damned turtle. She won’t wreck anything, but I’m becoming concerned she’ll get pulled over for driving like a grandma.

“Vic, baby, you can punch the gas more.”

Her hands are clenched at ten and two, knuckles white. I don’t think I’ve ever seen her brown eyes so wide, darting back and forth as she stares in terror through the windshield. “Buck, can’t you just drive me? I don’t even have a license, and my meeting is in another hour!”

Her panic fills the cab, tinging the air with the smell of it. But I’m not worried. In the end, as much as I love this truck, it’s just a truck. It’s the little lady in the driver’s seat that I care about. “You gotta learn, Free Bird, if you’re ever going to leave the nest.” I’m joking, but her face twists and oh, fuck me, tears start rolling down Vickie’s creamy cheeks. She’s still driving and the truck’s starting to weave-- “For fuck’s sake, put the truck in park if you’re gonna cry!”

She does, then she completely crumbles. Her arms are crossed over the wheel and her face is buried in them. I’m just sitting here, the asshole who made her cry. I rub at my face hard, feeling the whiskers bite at my palm. If I don’t shave soon I’ll look like Shep. “What’s going on, Vickie?” Maybe I’ve pushed her too hard. I’ve been driving since I was thirteen. Shep and I snuck out one night and took his grandma’s Buick for a spin. She tanned our asses good the next day, then taught us both how to drive the weekend after.

Guilt builds in me and I put a hand on her thigh. It says something that I’m touching those lush legs and not hard. The concern is greater than my own desires, and that’s a new experience for me.

She sniffles and takes my hand in hers, lacing our fingers together. “Buck… what if I don’t want to fly away? What if I want to stay with you and Shep forever? Let you take care of me?”

Oh, shit. That gets me in my emotions, hard. It’s something I know Shep and I have each been wanting, but not something we could say out loud and mean it. After all, Vickie’s just eighteen. How long could she be happy being our girlfriend if we kept her hidden in the trailer? And there’s our dreams as well. How much of that have we shelved while lost in this love that’s been consuming us?

Turning in my seat, I stare into her eyes. Her blond hair is brilliant in the sunlight, almost white. How did I ever end up with such a pretty girl? And smart, too. She’s been at the books, voracious in a way that makes me jealous. I never could stand reading long enough to walk away a smarter man. “Vickie, we want nothing more than to have you in our lives forever. I only made the joke about flying because you’re so young. You’re into school, and learning, and--”

It hits me, then, that I’ve been afraid, too. Lurking below. I always just assumed my fear was tied up in Shep. Would he tolerate our threesome? Would he try to take her for himself? Would he ever admit he loves me, too? My chest feels stretched thin as I realize that she may get tired of Shep and me. That the novelty of this will wear off for her and she’ll do exactly what I said; she’ll fly away.

“Oh, Buck,” she sobs and reaches for me. Her soft hands cup my cheeks and she pulls me in for the sweetest kiss. The salt of her tears mixes on our tongues, our lips. This is twice now I’ve been kissed like this. Once with Shep, once with Vickie. Both times with love. How did I ever think that endless string of women was satisfying? She breaks our kiss. “I’ll never tire of you two. Never. It’s like I thought I knew what dreaming was, and then I met the two of you, and now, I don’t know…” she blushes and bites her lip. “Now anything is possible, as long as we’re together.”

“Baby, I know exactly what you mean.”

* * * *

I was later than I’d said by the time she dropped me off at work. We’d made love in the bed of the truck, cold air and warm sun fighting on our bare skin, our moans warning anyone who walked near what was going on. This girl, man. This girl and my boy, and we’ve got the whole world.

Shep

I’m seven hours into a ten hour shift, and my eyes are glued to the clock. You know how it is: Check it, see the time, sigh. Check again, expecting the hands to have moved more than five fucking minutes, see they haven’t, sigh. Repeat. Long ass day, and the only way I’m trudging through it is by dreaming of a cold beer, Buck’s lips on mine, and Vickie’s lips on my cock.

Maybe even vice versa.

Ho-ly shit, Shep, you’re turning into a pervert.
I chuckle at the thought. It’s a Buck-like thought. He’d point it out in a heartbeat. 

“Shep.” Bill’s thin voice comes up behind me, and the hairs on my neck stand up. I can’t fucking stand him.

My knuckles crack and I look over my shoulder at him. “Yeah?”

“John and I are going down the new shaft to do structural tests. You’re coming with us.”

Now I stop checking the belt I’m working on so I can face him. “That’s going to take at least four hours, Bill. I’m headed out in less than three. The second shifters are here, grab one of them.”

His eyes glint. “I’m grabbing you, Shep. Are you saying you can’t do the job? Or won’t?”

It’s hard to tamp back the snarl that’s building in my throat. I set my tool down too hard, it’s clang catching a few people’s interest. Wiping my hands on my shirt, I gesture in an over the top way. Bill’s snarky smile disappears. “Lead the way, Chief.”

“You need to learn a little respect, Shep.”

Yeah, well, there’s a few things you should learn, Bill. Like how to remove your head from your ass
. I say nothing, just follow him and John. John’s an okay guy. Definitely one of Bill’s cronies, but when we work together he’s a hard worker and doesn’t give me a tough time.

We suit up and hop in the shuttle car. It takes us an hour just to get to the end of the load-bearing bolts in the mine shaft. I used to hate being down here. It was like you could feel the weight of the earth above you. My mind would picture the air as a finite thing, destined to run out any minute while I was mining coal. Now, though, it isn’t too bad. I mean, it’s a fucking job. When something needs to be done, no matter how awful, I’m good at just putting my nose down and doing it.

The aggression in me is something I shape into a calm facade. Let him think whatever he wants, but I’m not gonna let him think he can faze me. Cracking my neck, I wait for instructions.

“Light up some lamps, Shep.” Rolling my eyes, I do what he says. He doesn’t need me here. This is just another one of his power trips. Bill’s way of letting me know who’s boss. He’s brought me here to do bitch work and keep me over time. At least I know that I’m banking like a goddamn madman. When I checked at the account, the number in my savings was higher than I’d expected. Another year of this, and I could give Bill the ol’ ‘fuck you.’

The cabin in the woods with Buck and Vickie is worth putting up with his shit.

It’s open down here, but my eyes keep traveling to the top. We needed more support bolts put down here. It’s why we haven’t bothered moving in the mining machines and the ventilation yet. Technically, I could sue for him making me work with no ventilation installed yet, but I’m sure we both know how that would go. Bill is prodding and testing and calling out numbers to John. I lean back and wait. He’ll find some other stupid task for me, I’m sure. Then Bill grabs some picks. He hands one to John and another to me. “Well, let’s check the vein.”

Warnings flash in my mind. “Bill, this shaft isn’t ready for mining. Besides, that’s not what you said we’re down here for.”

Bill explodes, getting in my face, his finger poking at my sternum. I see crimson because this asshole is in my space, but unlike him, I know how to keep my cool. Especially in an unsafe environment. “Look here, punk.” He’s so mad his spittle dusts my cheeks. “When are you going to get it through your thick, ignorant, redneck skull? You work for
me
. I’ve got pressure to get an extra shipment out this week, which means
you’ve
gotta work to get it done. So just do what I fucking tell you or get out of my mine!”

My teeth grind together. “Bill. I’m telling you it isn’t safe to start chipping away down here. We’ll make the extra shipment, but there’s no point in risking lives right now.” There’s equipment far better suited for digging. Like, exponentially so. I get if he wants to grab some more samples, but at this point we’re just testing our luck.

His smirk makes me want to drive my pick into his skull. “No point, huh? I’m surprised a murderer like you is such a chickenshit. If you’re so afraid, sit this one out. When we get topside I’ll be sure to note your insubordination in your file. Let’s see your union rep protect you from
that
.”

Swinging around, he narrowly misses clipping me with his axe. My fists ball.
This asshole isn’t worth it
, my mind screams, but goddamn it’s hard to listen. Tidal waves of anger and resentment pound through me. I’ve never done anything to Bill to warrant this kind of shit. But I’m tough. Thick skin. So I focus on making it a little thicker. Kind of like Bill’s stupid skull.

Everything about this feels bad. A small glance at John confirms my feelings; he doesn’t want to be in here, either. When Bill starts digging, I freeze. Listening. Watching. Bill manages to scrape away quite a bit and frowns. “Sandstone. I’d hoped we could cut around the fault.”

Sandstone is bad news. It’s hard as fuck to get through, and, depending on how long the line is, we may have to go through it instead of around it. We’re talking a ton of money and time down the shitter as equipment has to plow through rock that it isn’t made to plow through. If Bill’s supposed to be making extra shipments, this is worse than someone pissin’ in his cereal.

I get where his stress is coming from. I do. This mountain has been mines for a long time. That means its coal is rapidly dwindling. The whole town is built on this mountain and feeds off this mine. The mine pays most of the money that filters into the economy.

When it’s tapped, well, so’s the town.

Problem is, most of us don’t have the money, the education, the
anything
to be able to pick up and leave. If the mountain runs dry, the town dries up and poor people become poorer.

We all know it. Bill knows it. We all have dreams to get the hell out before that becomes us. But between the high prices for food, gas, what not, and the vices we all have, saving isn’t exactly easy.

Bill here is thinking this is his big shot. He’ll make an extra shipment here or there. Start lookin’ good. Maybe get a pay raise or a few bonuses. Most importantly, maybe he’ll get a job offer somewhere else. Somewhere that doesn’t have one foot in the grave.

Speaking of graves, though, Bill starts swinging again. John’s sweating-- big drops I can see in the low lamp light. “Okay, Bill,” he says, eyes darting behind us, up the shaft and back to safety. “You found what you’re looking for. Tough luck, man. I’m sorry. We should head back now.”

Bill smiles too big. It feels wrong. “Just checking a little further, John. We need to be sure.”

I’ve had enough. I wait until a down swing, and as soon as pick axe hits wall, I grab his shoulder. It’s stupid to approach someone mining, but this whole ordeal is stupid, and stupid keeps getting more and more dangerous. Red warning lights are flashing in my mind. Whipping Bill around, I shove him a little. Not hard. Just enough to get his attention.

Fact is, I’m a big dude, and he knows it. Bill’s not shabby, either, but I’ve got youth and maybe thirty pounds of muscle on him. And my fighting skills are legendary. I’ve brawled since Buck taught me, making sure rumors flew.

Bill’s too mad to think about that. “What the fuck are you doing, Shep?” He spits at me, his body practically vibrating with his rage. Well, that makes two of us, buddy.

“John’s right. We need to get back. The supports here aren’t permanent. We’re pushing our fucking luck. This mine has a great safety record because we don’t do shit like this. So let’s go.”

Instead of following me as I step away though, Bill hits me. Just fucking socks me in the jaw, right in that small shaft. In shock, I stumble back. Now, I’ve said a lot of shit about Bill and it’s all been true. But the man knows when he’s picked a fight with the wrong guy, and he knows his only advantage is that I’m still stunned that he’d do something so idiotic.

Bill charges. He slam-tackles me and I hit the wall of the shaft, hard. Rocks and bits of dust and coal scatter around us, flecking the ground. John curses. Bill doesn’t hesitate, throwing another punch to my kidney. Pain blazes up my back, and I’m sure I’ll be pissing blood later.

Before I can get my feet and start in on the ass whooping Bill so rightly deserves, though, there’s a deep groan in the mountain around us. It’s followed by a loud explosion that knocks Bill and I hard against the wall.

My breath is slammed out of me. Ears ringing, I take stock of my body first. It aches, like I was in a bigger fight than I was. But my fingers can move without pain, and then my toes and legs. Moving carefully, I stand.

The illuminated space in front of my headlamp is so thick with a flurry of dust and debris that I can’t see more than a foot in front of me. There is still some groaning in the mine and every muscle is tense, waiting for an aftershock to bury me.

It never comes. As the ringing in my ears fades, I can hear coughing. “John? Bill?” My voice hurts, like I’m trying to speak through gravel. This makes me laugh, because that’s probably not far from the truth. I’m breathing in rock.

“Yeah, it’s John.” The older miner’s lamp swings toward me and the dust begins to settle. He was thrown back from the impact, but is already moving to stand.
Good
.

“Where’s Bill?” Our lamps swing around, slowly lighting the rubble around us until I find Bill’s face, eyes shut and mouth open.

“Over here!” I don’t yell, because at this point even a little sound could compromise the integrity of the shaft that’s still holding up over our heads. John picks his way over and we bend together to see if Bill’s alive.

The dust swirls in front of my boss’s mouth. He’s still breathing. Slowly I move my headlamp up and down, seeing his body intact-- except for a leg. His right leg is pinned beneath a boulder of sandstone.

“Fucking hell,” John whispers as he sees the damage. “This is bad.”

Yeah, understatement of the fucking year. “We need to see if we’re pinned in here and if the shuttle got covered.” It’s as if my mind is dividing. Half of it is screaming in panic. It’s the side that sees I’m in a collapsed mine shaft, one man trapped, no air pumping in and no way to access the safety room, which has the food, water, and first aid. It’s the side that is crying
you’re going to die.

The other half, though, is numb. It’s practical. It’s making a list of things John and I need to do if we’re going to survive this. That’s the half that’s in control, thank God. “I’ll go, John. Stay with Bill.” I don’t say the rest of it, but John knows--
Be here for him so that if he dies, he doesn’t die alone
.

I don’t like him, but I’m not a complete bastard. There’s only one other time in my life when this divided self has happened to me. The night my folks disappeared.

Moving as slowly as I can, I start gauging how large the space is that we’re in. It’s sizable, and the blast seemed to push us back into safer space. My headlamp catches some roof studs. Small miracle, but I’m glad for it.

I thought that our fight had caused the collapse, but judging by our location, the explosion was probably a methane pocket. Luckily, it was just a small pocket.
This is why we shouldn’t have been down here
. It’s hard to not be angry at Bill. My hands are itching to go slap him awake and scream at him for his stubbornness.

Instead, I keep searching. There it is-- a large boulder has blocked off our escape, but I can’t see signs of the shuttle, which means the shuttle might be on the other side. The boulder is uneven, and there’s a small space at the left base. Maybe four inches. Four inches means we won’t suffocate, though.

My heart is finally beginning to normalize. We might make it. Heading back to John, I see that Bill’s skin isn’t looking great. Waxen and sweaty. Poor asshole. It’s shock.

Shrugging out of my heavy protection suit jacket, I lay it over Bill, hoping to keep some heat in him. “John, give me your walkie. We’re blocked in and neither of us is going to be able to move it, but there’s a small hole for air.”

John’s relieved exhale makes me feel proud, even though I haven’t done shit. I didn’t make the hole. But taking control of the situation is giving me something to hold onto, and the pride fuels it. He hands over the walkie.

I walk back to the block and lay on my stomach. The rocks are all over the floor, some as big as oranges. It’s fucking uncomfortable, but that’s not important. As I slide my hand with the walkie through the hole, I can see some bars. Reception.

“Bill?” A voice buzzes over the speaker. “Bill, what’s going on?”

“This is Shep. We’re in shaft four and there’s been a collapse.”