Rescue Me

pressure cooker. The kind that blew him apart if he let it, which he never did. Or at least hadn’t for a very long time.
    He tossed the foil into the garbage can and started on the second hot dog. For the past three months, he’d been traveling a lot, but even after months of reflection, he still wasn’t real clear on why he’d taken on a bar filled with bikers. He wasn’t real clear on who had started it, but he was clear about waking up in jail with a sore face and ribs, and a couple of battery charges. The charges had all been dropped, thanks to a good lawyer and his sparkling military record, but he’d been guilty. As sin. He knew he hadn’t picked the fight, never did. He never went looking for a fight, either, but he always knew where to find one.
    He reached for the beer and raised it to his mouth. His sister liked to tell him that he had anger problems, but she was wrong. He swallowed and set the beer on the desk. He had no problem with his anger. Even when it crawled across his skin and threatened to blow, he could control it. Even in the midst of a firefight or a barroom brawl.
    No, his problem wasn’t anger. It was boredom. He tended to get into trouble if he didn’t have a goal or mission. Something to do with his head and hands, and even though he’d had his day job and the Laundromat to fill up his time, he’d felt at loose ends since his sister had decided to remarry the son of a bitch ex of hers. Now that the SOB was back in the picture, Vince was out of one of his jobs.
    He took a bite and chewed. Deep down, he knew that it was best for the SOB to step up to the plate and be a good father, and he’d never seen his sister happier than the last time he’d been at her house. He’d never heard her happier than the last time he’d talked to her on the phone, but her happiness had created a big vacuum in Vince’s life. A vacuum he hadn’t felt since he’d left the teams. A vacuum that he’d filled at the time with family and work. A vacuum he’d been trying to fill this time with driving across the country visiting buddies who understood.
    The squeak of Luraleen’s shoes and her smoker’s hack announced her entry into the office. “That was Bessie Cooper, Tally Lynn’s mama. The weddin’s got her nervous as a cat with a long tail.” She moved around the side of the desk and lowered herself into the rolling chair. “I told her Sadie made it to town.” She lit the snubbed-out smoke and grabbed her Tweety mug. As a kid, Luraleen had always brought him candy cigarettes when she’d visited. His mother had thrown a fit, which Vince suspected was why his aunt had done it, but he’d always loved his pack of wintergreen Kings. “She’d wanted to know if Sadie had packed on the pounds, like the women on her daddy’s side tend to do.”
    “She hadn’t looked fat to me. Of course I didn’t get a real good look at her.” The most memorable thing about Sadie had been the way her blue eyes had gotten all wide and dreamy when she’d talked about zapping his ass with her imaginary stun gun.
    Luraleen took a drag and blew it toward the ceiling. “Bessie says Sadie still isn’t married.”
    Vince shrugged and took a bite. “Why did you call me a month ago?” he asked, changing the subject. Talk of marriage usually led to talk of when he was getting married, and that just wasn’t in his foreseeable future. Not that he hadn’t thought about it, but being in the military, where the divorce rate was high, not to mention his own parents’ divorce, he’d just never met a woman who made him want to risk it. Of course, that could have something to do with his preference for women with low expectations. “What’s on your mind?”
    “Your daddy told me he called you.” Luraleen set the cigarette in the ashtray and a curl of smoke trailed upward.
    “Yeah. He did. About four months ago.” After twenty-six years the old man had called and evidently wanted to be a dad. “I’m surprised he called you, though.”
    “I was surprised, too. Shoot, I haven’t talked to Big Vin since he left your mama.” She took a drag off her cig and blew it out in a thick stream. “He called ’cause he thought I could talk sense into you. He said you wouldn’t hear him out.”
    Vince had heard him out. He’d sat in the old man’s living room and listened for an hour before he’d heard enough and left. “He shouldn’t have bothered you.” Vince took a long drink from the bottle and sat back in