Page 20

TUCKER

T he smoke was the first tell that his car was on my side.

I pulled up behind him on the road and hopped out onto the pavement, checking for cars before heading to his driver’s side.

I watched his chest rise and fall in one very angry breath before he rolled the window down. “Don’t say it,” he grumbled.

“I won’t.” I shrugged; I felt bad for him. His comment about my vehicle hadn’t been wrong. My parents had bought it for me on my eighteenth birthday. It was a present for graduating and I was making payments on it, but that wasn’t the point.

It was a show of wealth, and I had rubbed it in his face.

“Get in the Jeep ,” I teased.

“I’ll call a cab, Tuck. I don’t need your charity.” He waved me off, but I didn’t move.

“It’s not charity. You can take my dinner schedule for the week to pay for gas,” I offered, knowing that showing him it wasn’t a handout would help. That was the thing about Josh—he needed to feel like he was doing it on his own or he wouldn’t do it at all. I had figured that much out over the last two weeks.

“Fine,” he groaned, climbing from the car.

“Don’t leave your bag,” I said, pointing to it. I checked for cars again and started back toward my own. Pulling out my cell phone, I texted the group chat.

Someone come grab Logan’s heap of garbage.

Cael

What happened?

It broke down on the nineteen, I’m taking him into Lorette. Just tow it back up to the house, or, Arlo, can you look at it? If you have time?

Arlo

Get Van and the truck, we’ll get it back to the Nest. I can’t promise to get it running. It sounded like it was full of water, leaving the lot.

Just try, please?

Arlo

You owe me

Cael

Do you ever collect on those, or do you just say them to scare us?

I shoved the phone back in my pocket, looking up in time to see Josh throwing his bag into the back and climbing into the passenger seat. His dark eyes widened as they took in the console.

“God, this must have cost a fortune,” he whistled.

“Buckle up.” I pointed to his seatbelt and he scowled at me, but I waited until he did it up. “Thank you, and it costs me seven hundred dollars a month to pay for it,” I added, just to see the dumbfounded look on his face.

“You have a job?” He said in a shocked tone.

“Yeah, I do contract construction jobs with Van when I have the time.” I pulled off the shoulder and onto the highway. Josh was silent for a while, the only sound was his phone going off in his pocket. "You can get that,” I said to him.

“No,” he clipped quickly and went back to being silent.

“Touchy,” I hummed, turning onto the highway toward Lorette. It was another hour of uncomfortable silence before Josh started giving me directions. When I’d imagined all the places he might be going, the rough side of Lorette hadn’t been on my list.

Rent-controlled and overpopulated, this side of the city was littered with homeless people and run by some street gang that no one really messed around with. I was ashamed to say that I’d always been too scared to come over here.

“Stay here,” he barked as we pulled up to a ratty-looking apartment building.

“No.” I shook my head. "You aren’t going out there alone…”

“Tuck, listen.” He sighed. "I’ll be fine. Stay put and lock the doors.”

I had offended him.

“I’m coming.” I cut the engine and climbed out of the car, pushing the fob and listening to it beep as I jogged up the sidewalk behind him.

“You should have stayed in the fucking car,” Josh snarled.

“It’s a Jeep,” I reminded him, trying to lighten the mood.

“It’s going to have one less window, leaving it parked there unattended,” Josh muttered darkly, swinging the shattered door open into the main lobby. My eye caught sight of the out-of-service sign on the elevator as Josh ignored my hesitation, already climbing the dirty stairs. The whole place reeked of piss and smoke, and the stairs felt endless.

“How many floors?” I queried.

“Fifteen,” he answered as we hit the fourth floor.

“Where are we going?” I asked, rounding the corner of five.

“Seven,” he answered, not sounding even a little out of breath.

“How many times have you done these stairs?” I asked as we reached six, my breath had started to get shallow and quick.

“All my life,” he replied, stopping at the first door off the seventh-floor landing and spinning on me so he was in my face. “If you tell a soul about what you see in here, I’ll fucking kill you, Tucker.”

I would have laughed, but something about the way Josh said it meant he was serious, so I nodded and waited as he popped the lock on the apartment door. The intense smell of vodka, smoke and rotten fruit washed into my nose, and it took everything in me not to gag.

“Mom,” Josh called out, stepping over a leaning pile of newspapers with his long legs. I stepped inside the apartment and shut the door behind us as my eyes scanned my surroundings.

The walls, which I could only assume were white at some point, had been stained yellow from smoke and were littered with holes. The windows were covered with film and newspapers to block the light from pouring in onto the dirty couch and the glass coffee table that was piled high with garbage.

The kitchen off to my right was barely that; dishes and rotten food piled in toppling towers of plastic and mold. The rotten stench of beer cans festering with fruit flies filled the air and seeped into my clothes and against my skin.

“Fuck,” I swore under my breath, seeing the discarded needles, and crossed my arms over my chest as I looked around for Josh.

He was in a room to my left, talking to someone that I couldn’t see, but could hear.

“You came.” Her voice was strained, and she sounded weak as Josh helped her off the floor and onto the dirty mattress piled with clothes and blankets. “That’s my boy.”

Josh’s body went rigid as her hand touched his cheek. Gently, he pulled her wrist away and reached for his wallet to dig through it.

“This is all I have,” he said. "I’ll stop by Mark’s office and get him to change the lock on the door.” He moved with the kind of fluidity that only came from having done this a hundred times before. As if caring for her this way was second nature.

I looked around as Josh lowered his voice, clearly not wanting me to hear what was next. I stepped back and scanned the hall, taking in the peeling paint in the corners and the piles of dust that lined the baseboards. The door at the end of the hall had three chain locks—all of them had been snapped off and reinstalled, again and again.

The pit in my stomach grew as I stepped toward it.

I put my hand out to open it; the cool metal pressing against my palm, begging to be turned.

“Don’t.” Josh’s voice was harsh and laced with impatience. "Let’s go.”

I didn’t turn the handle, but my heart ached from the strained way he demanded it, and I knew that the door led to his room. The frame was etched with scratch marks made by small hands.

“Tuck,” he said again, his tone more strangled the longer I stood staring. “ Please .”

I let go of the door knob and turned to look at him. He suddenly seemed so much smaller than usual, but I nodded and followed him out of the apartment. I kept my eyes trained on the center of his back, right between his tense shoulder blades, as we walked down each flight of stairs.

“Give me a second,” he said, knocking on a door off the main lobby.

An older gentleman with an unruly beard and mean dark eyes answered, but his expression grew more gentle at the sight of Josh.

“Mr. Logan!” His voice softened as he opened the door wider. “I didn’t expect to see you— is your—?”

“She’s alright, Mark. How are you?” Josh’s tone was so different with this stranger. It was considerate and patient, just like he’d been with his mother, but his shoulders had relaxed and he even had a smile on his face that I’d never seen before.

“Surviving,” the old man coughed out into a rag. “What can I do for you, Josh?”

“Mom had another unwanted visitor while she wasn’t home. Do you think you could change out her lock again?” He asked. “Do you still have that box?”

“You saved me a lot of money with that idea,” Mark said. “I’ll change it out for one of the old ones. What about Darren’s?”

“Yeah, I haven't seen that guy since eighth grade. That’ll work.” Josh nodded. "Thanks, Mark.”

“Anything for you, kid,” he said, without hesitation. “When does the season start?”

“Two weeks,” Josh replied. “We’re gonna have to upgrade that radio to a TV soon. Can’t have you listening to MLB games. Gotta be able to see me pitching, right?”

“Dream big, boy.” Mark slapped his shoulder, and Josh flinched, but he swallowed the discomfort. “You got your schedule for the season?”

“Uh n—”

“Right here,” I said, pulling out my phone. “You got a piece of paper?” I asked, and the old man looked at me. “Dean Tucker, first baseman for the Harbor Hornets.” I held out my other hand for him to shake.

“Well, damn, you’re a big fucker,” Mark huffed, amused by the sight of me. “I know those announcers are dramatic, but they weren’t lying about you, golden boy.”

“Paper?” I reminded him, and he nodded, swinging the door open and wandering into the kitchen. He brought back a pen and paper, and I jotted down what was on our schedule for the first month. “I’ll get Josh here, an official one. We have magnets, you like magnets?” I asked, still scribbling.

Mark nodded.

“Maybe a Logan jersey?” I suggested, and Josh sighed. “You look like you fit a large, you’ll look good in navy too–get you out of that Lorettes red. What do you say?”

Mark laughed. "I like this one, he’s pushy.”

“And proud.” I smiled at him. “I’ll make you a bag and have Josh bring it over next week, before the exhibition game.”

Josh was about to open his mouth when a group of rowdy teenagers busted through the front doors, screaming and arguing with one another about a video they were watching.

“You boys should get going. I’ll get her lock changed after dinner.” Mark turned to Josh and shooed us away.

I made room for Josh to walk by me in the small hallway and held my hand out for Mark again, who finally took it in a tight handshake. He held on as Josh pushed out the front door.

“Tell me the truth. Is he okay?” Mark asked, in a low, serious tone.

“He will be,” I said with a nod. “Promise.”

A sick, unfamiliar feeling turned in my gut as Mark let go of my hand.

Josh’s hatred for the Hornets and everything we stood for went so much deeper than just a rivalry. His hatred was bone deep; not for the team but for the family he never had.

“Shit.” I exhaled and pushed open the door.

Josh climbed into the Jeep as soon as I pressed the fob and slammed the door behind him. Good to know we’re back to our old attitudes. The silence was raw when I closed the door and started the engine.

I hadn’t forgotten about the state of his childhood; still so present in his adulthood. My brain wandered into darker territory, thinking about how often he’d had to step back in there and relive it just because his mom called. His phone had stopped vibrating and I felt like a dick for assuming that we were going to see a girlfriend.

Sadly, everything made a little more sense.

I didn’t know what to say. Every question that formed felt too rude, too raw, or too soon. I wanted to know how long he’d been taking care of his mom like that, how many times he had been locked in his room as a child, if he’d always lived in that filth. But the words wouldn’t come, so more silence filled the space, and it felt wrong.

So instead of asking a question, I apologized.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t know that’s where you were going tonight. The caretaker seems like a nice guy. Has he always—”

“Shut up, Tuck,” Josh snapped. He didn’t look in from the window as the trees whipped past us back toward Harbor.

“I’m just trying—”

“I don’t give a shit what you’re doing,” he growled, cutting me off again. “It’s none of your fucking business, and don’t ever overstep in my life ever again. You don’t get to offer shit to people just because you want to clear your little rich boy's conscience.”

“That’s not what I was doing.” I gripped the wheel tighter. “I was just… trying to talk.”

“By offering him a ton of shit that he can’t use? He doesn’t need your fucking magnets, or your jerseys.” Josh whirled on me with eyes full of hatred. “You don’t know the first thing about my life, or his, and just because you barreled into it today uninvited, doesn’t mean you get to try to fix problems with your saintly attitude.”

I sighed.

It was useless. In the eyes of Josh Logan, I couldn’t do a damn thing right.