Page 12 of Rough

I wasn’t wearing my vest. She was perceptive, and that quality would come in handy with my father. I nodded and reached for the door. “Not a fuckin’ word.”

She traced her thumb and forefinger across her lips.

I pushed the door open and waved my hand toward the living room. “After you.”

I fought not to limp as I walked through the door.

Pop sat up in his chair. His mouth twisted into a smirk. “Jesus jumped up Christ. Who’d you hire, Supergirl?”

I didn’t bother responding.

He glanced at her, and then at me. “She kicked your ass, didn’t she? What was that about?”

“She didn’t kick shit,” I said. “We were just fuckin’ around.”

“I might be crippled,” he said with a laugh. “But I sure as fuck ain’t blind.”

“Blind enough you didn’t see that banana peel.”

“I saw the son-of-a-bitch, I tried to kick it.” He raised the only hand he was able and wiggled the tips of his fingers. “Name’s Bradley. Pleasure to meet you.”

She stepped around me, took his hand in hers and smiled. “Tegan. Tegan Rassini. And, the pleasure’s mine.”

“So, what was that? Tae Kwando? Karate? Ju fuckin’ Jitsu? Kung god damned Fu?”

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about,” she responded.

He gave her a look. “I’m crippled, but I can see just fine.”

“That’s the second time you said that, and I’ve only been here thirty seconds.” She dropped her purse beside his chair and then looked right at him. “Your chart didn’t say anything about memory loss, is that something you’ve just started experiencing?”

He let out a laugh. “Well, aren’t you feisty?”

She was a spunky little bitch.

But I’d never tell her that to her face.

At least not the bitch part.

FIVE

Tegan

Bradley was big, and based on his size, I guessed that he was very muscular in his younger days. His gray hair was unlike his son’s, and cut short. He was a very handsome man with a face that appeared to be made of stone. His sharp appearance left me wondering what Pee Bee would look like without his beard.

His attitude, temper, and demanding personality tested every facet of my training, probed the depth of my knowledge of human nature, and offered all-day entertainment. It was day two of me caring for him, and my first full day alone.

“The bacon’s got to be crisp,” he said dryly.

Almost to the kitchen, I stopped and turned to face him. “You didn’t specify. That’s how I like it.”

“It’s not going to work for me.” Pinching the strip of bacon in the middle, he wagged it up and down a few times. “It’s all flimsy.”

He dropped it onto the plate. “I couldn’t swallow that half-cooked fucker if I had to. Bouncy meat makes my stomach churn.”

“You asked for two eggs over medium, four pieces of bacon, and two pieces of buttered toast. That’s how I cook my bacon. I’ll gladly prepare it however you like.”

He looked up as he reached for his fork. “Maybe leave it in the skillet a little longer tomorrow.”