Ketch barely heard her, but her body language made it plain she was not interested.
“Oh, come on, Tuesday. It’s Friday night. You need to have a little fun. You keep turning me down and one day I’ll stop asking.”
“No, Jack, the answer is always going to be no.” Her voice came a bit louder. “I’ve told you before. I’m not interested. I don’t go home with anyone anymore.”
The drunk didn’t let go of her wrist. “It ain’t like you got any other plans. You don’t have anything in common with those kids in there. You’re just a local. Homegrown. This time I won’t take no for an answer. You think you’re too good for me?”
“I said no.” She didn’t sound scared, just annoyed. “Don’t ask me again. The answer will always be no.”
“Not this time.” Jack pulled her arm like it was a lead rope. “Come along now. You’ll be glad you did, come morning.”
Ketch moved forward, letting his boots crunch the gravel to announce his presence. He stayed just outside the circle of light. “Tuesday, you ready for me to drive you home?”
She looked toward his shadow. Ketch saw no fear in her eyes, just an emptiness, like she’d given up her soul long ago and all that was left was a shell lined in sorrow. “I’m ready, Ketch. Let’s go.”
Jack turned loose of her arm. “Your loss, honey. If you’d let me, I’d make you smile, sad Tuesday. Maybe next time.” He hurried to catch up with his friends.
Without a word, Ketch watched as she hesitantly moved toward him. He offered his hand. Slender fingers touched his palm. They walked a few feet, then he turned to watch the three men drive away.
She slipped her hand from his. “You don’t have to give me a ride. That guy was harmless, but you did make it easier.”
“So, you don’t want a ride home?”
“No. I have a bike.”
“Good.” Ketch laughed. “’Cause I don’t have my car.” He dabbed at his forehead. “I’m too drunk to drive anyway. It seems I’m probably too drunk to walk as well.”
To his surprise she looped her arm in his and said, “How about I walk you home?”
“You don’t know where I live.”
“It doesn’t matter. Nowhere is far in this town.”
“I’d turn down your offer, but my knee and elbow are also bleeding. The way my luck is going I’d bleed out before I make it three blocks. Would you be my guardian angel tonight?”
“Sure. I’ll walk you to your door.” She paused. “But I’m no angel.”
Ketch smiled but didn’t argue. A bit of his loneliness seemed to fade. More to himself than to Tuesday he added, “I don’t need an angel, but maybe you can help me find one good reason to go on fighting my way through this world. I lost my compass today.”
Chapter 3
Tuesday’s World
Midnight
Tuesday Raine held on to the big man’s arm. He probably outweighed her almost double, but he wasn’t steady on his feet. She’d watched him drink more than any man in the bar and still manage to look sober. If he tumbled now, he’d take her down too, but she didn’t care. He’d been nice to her and that put him ahead of most folks. He’d said thank you every time she brought him another round and he’d left a twenty for the tip. Then, even drunk, he’d stepped in to help her when he thought she was in trouble.
It had been so long since anyone had even noticed her as a real person, much less offered her a lifeline. Since rumors had started about her, the only attention she got was the kind no woman would want. Some of the guys felt free to whisper suggestions about what they’d like to do with her. It was never a date. Their plan was usually to meet in the bathroom or a car outside. Even though she never agreed to their plans, somehow stories circled and boys who thought they were men lied about what they’d done with her.
“That’s my place.” Ketch pointed to what looked like a warehouse at the end of the street. The last building in town.
Her eyes widened. “No way. You don’t live there. It’s a warehouse.”
All she saw was a big building and a poorly lit sign that said RANDALL BROTHERS’ CONSTRUCTION AND ROOFING.
He laughed as if she’d made a joke. “It’s more than that. I live in the apartment in the back. The upstairs corner was just a storage room for years, but I plumbed it, built a few walls, and moved in. I guess you could say the overhaul was my interview for a job.” Ketch’s words were slightly slurred, but he kept on going. “I work for the Randall brothers most days, and at night, I’m their watchdog. Renting me this place cheap costs less than feeding dogs.”
She helped him navigate first the winding street and then the small trail to the back of the second-floor apartment stairway. “I’ll say good night here. Thanks again for helping me back at the bar.”
“Anytime, Tuesday. To tell the truth, you’ve been the only one worth talking to tonight.”
To her shock, he leaned down and kissed her cheek, then started up the steps. One, two, three. She let out a little cry as he fell backward like a tree that had tried to stand against the wind.
Tuesday jumped out of the way, then panicked as he hit the dirt. He lay stone-still on the ground. It was far too dark to see if he was alive or dead.
Then, like a whisper in the darkness she heard him begin to chuckle. First a small sound, then growing like rolling thunder.
Slowly he sat up. “I guess I’ll try that again. Trying to kill myself by falling over isn’t funny anymore.”
She steadied him as he stood. “I’ll help this time. Walking you home isn’t as easy a job as I thought it would be.”
With both hands on the railing, he leaned forward as he climbed. She followed with her palms on his lower back.
Finally, they made it to the landing. When he couldn’t get the key into the lock, she took it and opened his door, then stepped inside and felt for the switch.
When a line of overhead bulbs blinked on, Tuesday was shocked at the size of his apartment. One huge room, fifteen feet high with long floor-to-ceiling windows facing the river. As she turned around, she saw a messy desk the size of a bed, with two computers blinking at her. Along one brick wall were huge sheets of what looked like house plans taped in layers over more huge drawings.
His place reminded her of what a New York loft might look like. Gray and white. Clean. Nothing personal.
In a back corner, she noticed workout equipment, weights and barbells. The bay of the room was lean of furniture other than the desk, a bed, and a few stools.
“You really live here?” she asked as Ketch stumbled into the room. Lightning flashed across the windows as if putting on a show just for them.
“I did, but tonight I feel like I might die here.” He managed to make it a few feet, lean over a kitchen sink and turn on the water, then he soaked his head. When he straightened back up, he shook his sandy-brown hair like a dog might, sending water flying several feet.
For the first time, Tuesday saw him in full light. Blood was still dripping from his forehead. But his face, if not handsome, was strong, just like his body.
Dirt and chunks of mud covered his clothes. One leg was bleeding through his jeans. His elbow was dirty and bloody with crimson drops dripping from his fingers.