Page 89 of The Jester and His Outlaw: Part 2

“Are you any good?” he asks, breaking the silence. I pick my slice of pizza back up, my nausea finally subsiding for a moment. Good thing because of all the training I’ve done lately, I’m starving and can’t afford not to eat.

“I mean, I think so, but we interpret art in many ways. Depends on who is looking at it.”

“Can I see some of your work? Do you have pictures?” I gesture to the room where he will see the piece in question. He gives me a brief nod, removes his napkin from his leg and lays it gently, neatly, beside his plate. He readjusts his slacks, not one to be caught dead looking anything less than perfect.

I don’t miss the slight tip of surprise his head makes when he sees the art on the wall. “That’s incredible work, son. What does it mean?”

“She’s my outlaw. I named the piece ‘The Jester and His Outlaw.’”

“Outlaw,” he murmurs thoughtfully. “Creative. I like it. It’d be a shame to paint over this.” I search his expression to determine if he is telling the truth or just trying to keep things civil between us by telling me he likes my art. I couldn’t care less if he does or not, but for some reason, I want his approval. Mr. Tucker has never judged my background and lack of money, but something like this is so personal and I’m curious. He is a man of money, the finer things in life. Some of the art in his home is worth millions. This is just a tag made with spray paint on a wall.

“Eventually, another artist will cover just about everything I do. Make the piece into a blank canvas for the next artist. The nature of the beast. I will create it on the wall in the next bedroom and every one after that if she’ll let me.”

He huffs a laugh that is reminiscent and still gentle. “If she’ll let you. You sound like you’re already married.”

“It’s all up to her. I’m just lucky to be with her, if she’ll have me.”

“We’re all lucky if a woman will let us in, son. But you’re a smart man to recognize that so early.” He lifts his pant legs a little, then sits in his chair once again. His gaze flicks to Jensen and a brief conversation passes through them I’m not privy to. “You’ve got a good head on your shoulders, Riggs.”

“Thanks,” I mumble, not used to compliments.

“You’re going to get her back. Good things take time, remember that. Just be there for her and she’ll come around,” Mr. Tucker says and the solemn look on his face says he’s speaking from experience.

I don’t know the complete story of Jensen’s mom, but she died of cancer when J was younger. Mr. Tucker was obsessed with his wife, worshiped the ground she walked on and it nearly killed him to lose her. As far as I know, he’s not been with anyone since.

“When Dawn was first diagnosed with cancer, she did the same thing. Pushed me away, tried to keep me from seeing her suffer. Claimed that I didn’t sign up for that. She wanted me to go off and find someone else because I was still young and she didn’t want me tied down with someone so sick.”

“That’s bullshit,” I blurt out. Eyeing me, Mr. Tucker flattens his lips. He never did like us to cuss around him. Too bad I don’t really care. I cuss, so what. There are times when I shouldn’t and I know exactly when that is.

“Yes, indeed, it was. When I didn’t move her out of the house, she tried. I locked her in our bedroom until she gave in. I didn’t care how she looked, what she was going through. She was my world, and I was going to be there for her until the end. I was there, every minute of every day. She was never alone no matter how hard she fought me and believe me, she fought.” Unlike his son, Mr. Tucker never shows emotion. I wouldn’t say he’s close to crying or sharing any of those moments with us, but I can hear the thickness in his voice.

Jensen is quiet and when I look at him, his eyes are on the table, vacant, watery, and sparkling at the same time. Talking about his mom is not the easiest thing for him and his relationship with his dad has been rocky. I’m sure this isn’t a simple conversation to have. His shoulder barely moves when I nudge it with my fist to offer him support. He glances up and pulls me in for a hug, wrapping his burly arms around me and squeezing tight. I almost fall out of my chair. The move is so sudden, so harsh.

He sucks in a deep, shaky breath but keeps his emotions in check.

“Are you alright, son?” Mr. Tucker asks, meeting us on our side of the table. His hand lands on Jensen’s shoulder. A rare show of affection and understanding.

“Yeah, Dad, I’m good. I just never knew something like that happened. It’s difficult to hear.” Mr. Tucker masks his frown so well, it almost pisses me off. He drops his eyes, staring absentmindedly at his son’s chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I haven’t been the best father to you, especially since she passed. I haven’t been there for you. You didn’t have your mother for nearly long enough—”

“It’s okay,” Jensen cuts him off. He shoots him a look as if to say not now and Mr. Tucker nods his understanding. “Thank you for not giving up on Mama.”

“Of course. The thought never even crossed my mind. I promise you that, Jensen. Your mother was the other half of my soul. But we can talk another time, perhaps. I want you to know her better.”

“I’d like that.” Jensen releases me and I straighten back in my chair. Mr. Tucker falls a little less gracefully into his chair this time, as if weighed down by something.

“At any rate, don’t give up on her, Riggs. Any amount of time with her, good or bad, will be more than worth it.”

“I won’t, sir.”

CHAPTER39

“I took care of them,Charley. I took care of them. You don’t need to worry. They won’t hurt you again. They won’t hurt you because you’re mine and I’m not letting you go.” Jonas’ sneakers squeak on the carefully disinfected floor of the room I’m staying in at the hospital as the words pour out of his mouth like an ill-contained river.

He paced for a minute until he finally spoke. I’m not sure how long he was here before I woke up, but he has no clue I did. I’m assuming not long because I’ve had someone around me twenty-four-seven, either Riggs or a guard, occasionally both my parents, but most of the time my mother is here as well.

She has finally gone home to get some sleep for the day.

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