This story is one of a continuing series of connected stories known as "Tales from the Shack." Normally these go into LW because the Shack series started here, and it is much easier for those that follow the stories to find them if I keep them all together. Even so, this one very much belongs in the LW category. This story stands on its own, though it is part of the series. It is also the second of the Needles & Delaney stories, so read "An Angry Man" first. I typically don't write graphic sex into this story line and that remains true here.
Thanks to stev2244 and bebop03 for beta reads, blackrandi and sbrooks103x for amazing editing; they make these readable. There are other who help who prefer not to be credited. You know who you are and I appreciate the help. As always, special thanks to The Missus for her tolerance, her encouragement, and her brilliant plotting and characterization.
An Unreasonable Man:
Needles & Delaney should come with fucking warning labels
"Asshole!"
Delaney ended her furious rant glaring up at me red-faced, fists clenched white-knuckle tight by her sides.
I was still chuckling.
Delaney had her days. Hell, we all did, I had days when it was hard to keep the lid screwed on, and I had a lot more experience at it than she did. Of course, my laughter hardly helped; it made her madder than hell.
She suddenly blinked and turned pale, a flash of fear on her face as she bolted past me, rushing towards the trailer. I turned to watch her just as Sheree stepped out the door and pulled her into a hug. She looked at me over the top of Delaney's head, and shot me a wink and a soft smile.
I pointed to Delaney and then at the knuckles of my left hand. She nodded and gently ushered Delaney inside; she'd clean and bandage where Delaney'd caught her hand when the damn wrench slipped. That had to hurt; this late in the year it was always a little cold, and skinning your knuckles always hurts more when it's cold.
I'd warned her twice about that nut; it was frozen and damn near rounded off. She had to try it her own way first, though. Cost her a little skin and a bit of blood. We both tested our tetanus shots on a regular basis. That just happens in a salvage yard. Maybe she'd learn from it. Delaney's hard head meant she was a slow learner, sometimes.
I was sure it'd be okay, because Friday was always Movie Night at Dawes's Salvage. I shrugged and went back to work. Skinned my own fucking knuckles before I followed my own suggestion, heated the nut with a propane torch and removed it. I'm a slow learner, too.
At five-thirty, I headed up to the trailer to clean up. Delaney was nowhere to be seen, but Sheree was pulling bowls out for the stew I'd put in the slow cooker earlier. With Sheree working every weekday, I usually set up dinner during the week. Winter meals were easy, dump it all in a slow cooker, wait eight hours and eat.
Sheree gave me a little kiss and thumped me on the chest. "No more sugar 'til you get scrubbed up." She shot a glance back towards the far bedroom where some kind of unrecognizable music was playing. "She'll be okay. Just scared herself. She's always afraid she's gone too far. Worried t'death you're gonna send her back."
I shook my head. "Not gonna happen. Nobody deserves to have to live with that bitch. I'd send Delaney to Gitmo before I sent her back there."
Sheree smiled. "She has to let that anger out and she knows she can do it to you because you can take it."
I knew that was true, she'd never so much as raised her voice to Sheree, not once. "Every time she does it, I see myself. Besides, it's karma; I missed most of Tara and Tiffany's teenage years, I probably have some teenage screaming coming."
Sheree stretched up and gave me another, more intense, kiss. "Go get cleaned up. You deserve a few more of those, and I'd rather give 'em to ya when you smell better."
After I cleaned up and came out for dinner, I found them already at the table, Delaney looking more than a little tense. Sheree talked about her day down at Big Ed's Quickmart convenience store, mostly dealing with a malfunctioning Slurpee machine and a lost beer truck. Her news that Shelley had to do community service again so she was stuck with the 10-to-2 shift the next day wasn't great, but I had some things to do, so it'd be okay. Still, I could just sit and listen to her talk all day. Delaney, fragile and shiny-eyed, was obviously thankful for the distraction.
As we got ready to clean up after dinner, Sheree nudged Delaney, and she took a deep breath. "I'm making dessert tonight. It's a surprise."
Before I could even comment Sheree hustled me over to the couch, and we sat there while Delaney buzzed around the kitchen. A bit later, Delaney hesitantly presented me with a plate with what for all the world looked like a pizza crust with no cheese, sauce, or toppings.
She waited nervously until I picked it up and took a bite.
"Damn. I thought I was going to have to pretend to like it. This is actually really good. What the hell is it?"
She lit up. "Pie crust. Store bought pie crust with some sugar and cinnamon on it. And butter."
Sheree ate hers gleefully. "Kinda like them things at the Mexican restaurant. Sopapillas. Kind of."
Delaney was obviously delighted with the response and ran to get us all another piece. She topped hers and Sheree's with whipped cream and some chocolate syrup. She even turned up some chocolate sprinkles I didn't know we had.
After we finished, Delaney looked expectantly at Sheree. "Was there anything good left?"
Sheree just pulled two movies out of her purse. "One for us, one for Les." She held up a Disney adventure movie, and a copy of A Bridge Too Far.
It was Movie Night at Dawes' Salvage, just like every Friday night.
***
I woke up to a chorus of snores. Delaney's slightly squeaky soft snores and Sheree's decidedly more womanly snores. Delaney was curled up almost like a kitten against Sheree. Sheree was nestled into my side with one arm protectively over Delaney.
Just like every Saturday morning for the last few months. Every Friday movie night, they'd get in their pajamas, bring blankets and pillows, and promptly fall asleep after the second movie started. After a month, I'd gone out and bought a much bigger, much more comfortable, couch. No point in having backaches all the time. It took up most of the living room, but it was worth it.
It'd started me thinking about the trailer. It'd been fine when it was just me, but I realized I wanted more for Sheree and Delaney. They both seemed happy, but maybe something other than a two bedroom singlewide in a salvage yard would be a little better.
I looked around at the trailer, morning light pushing rudely in through the windows.
Not much in the way of decoration and most of the furniture was secondhand even if it was pretty presentable, except the new couch, of course, and two new beds: one for me and Sheree, and one for Delaney. It wasn't even much of a bachelor pad, just a place to sleep and eat. That was all I'd ever needed, but maybe the three of us really needed a place to live. I had enough money, even after paying for Delaney to go to the Learning Center twice a week up in Charlottesville. That hadn't been cheap but it'd definitely been worth it. Unlike the classy private school that bitch ex-wife of mine had insisted she go to, it was one-on-one with a specialist in dyslexia who actually knew how to help her. She'd never be a great academic, but she was starting to find ways of dealing with her limitations. It showed in her schoolwork.
We'd decided to do the homeschool thing, at least for a year, so Delaney worked on her "school stuff" part of the morning and in the evenings, while spending as much time as she could with me in the salvage yard. She loved taking things apart, and she loved learning to drive all the vehicles in the yard. She was a natural on the stick shifts, and I took her to the old quarry and let her drive Sally around a little bit. For all her frustration and anger, I knew she was happier here with us than she'd ever been anywhere. After her father won his election to the State Senate, I'd been relieved when Charlotte didn't contact us at all. She'd obviously decided Delaney could be a problem when Charles ran for Governor and had decided I could keep her. That was fine with me.
I could have just sat there all day, listening to them, but I knew Sheree would have to get up and start getting ready. I gently prodded her awake.
She made a purring sound. "I wish I could stay here all day."
"Me, too."
"What are you and Delaney gonna be doin' while I'm at the Quickmart?"
"I've got a coupla pickups to do and I think Delaney's gonna be workin' on her baby."
Sheree giggled. "We're not gonna have to worry about boyfriends for a while. That car is her boyfriend."
I chuckled along with her. Delaney worked obsessively on her project car, a 1958 Plymouth Fury. She insisted on doing everything herself. I could watch, explain, make suggestions, but that was it. Delaney was adamant about it. She was doing all the bodywork, and even rebuilding the special Golden Commando Dual-Quad 350 engine I'd traded a wrecked Porsche for. Delaney was a little unhappy about that; she'd wanted to use as much of her own money as possible, so she'd sworn to "work off the engine" in the salvage yard. She was making good on that promise; Delaney certainly had her faults, but she sure as hell wasn't afraid of hard work and dirt. The Fury was going to be her birthday gift to herself for her sixteenth birthday. Be a helluva gift too; even with a non-standard red and white "Christine" paint job, it'd be worth a good $80,000 dollars, at least.
Besides, I wasn't too worried about boyfriends for a while; Delaney still had nightmares about what would have happened if I hadn't showed up the last time she thought she had a boyfriend.
Sheree shifted luxuriously and reached up for a kiss.
"Eeewwww, not in front of the kid!" Delaney sat up suddenly wrinkling her nose at us. She looked over at the clock. "Shit! I wanted to get started early today." She jumped up, dragging her blanket and pillow toward her room.
Sheree giggled again and Delaney stopped and looked back. "Since he's gonna be doing pickups, can I come down at lunch for a hotdog or two?"
"Or, more likely, three. I don't know where you put them." Sheree beamed at her over the back of the couch. "Just be careful on that scooter of yours."
Delaney had found an old Honda 50cc moped in the yard, and much to my surprise, we'd managed to get it running. She'd promptly cleaned it up and given it a "Christine-ish" red-and-white paint job and wheedled a promise from the Sheriff to treat it as a bicycle for her as long as she stayed off the roads and wore a helmet.
"I'll take the alley behind the Sheriff's department. I promise."
By the time I got back out to the kitchen, Delaney was already there in her oversize mechanics coveralls and steel-toed boots, putting the final touches on her cinnamon toast. I started eggs and hash-browns for me and Sheree.
Delaney sat down. "I'll soak the nut on that fender in penetrating oil and try it tonight."
She was trying to make a peace offering of sorts, wanting to be sure we were okay. She couldn't use power tools or the torch unless I was there, so she was thinking of something she could do.
I shook my head. "Nah, I got it last night. Got it off with the torch. Damn thing bit me first." I held my skinned knuckles up. "I was a little slow."
Delaney took a huge mouthful of her toast to stifle a smile. "But you did learn something?"
"Even short bus kids like us can learn eventually."
She giggled. "Then I'm gonna get my front driver-side quarter-panel sanded down."
"Wear earplugs, goggles, and a 3M mask. Make sure you put the power sander back where you got it. Sneaking it out of there doesn't really work unless you put it back."
She flushed a little and hid a tiny smile. She wasn't allowed to use the power-tools when I wasn't around. I knew how she thought, and a sander isn't exactly the most dangerous power-tool on the planet. She kept leaving it on the bench instead of getting it back on the shelf where it belonged. Of course, I knew it was her way of trying to be honest with me. She resented the hell out of authority, and probably always would, but I was kinda okay with that. She was a lot like me.
