Cutting Loose Ch. 01

Cutting Ties

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~~ All characters in this book are over 18. ~~

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It was a cold, gray day at the end of October, and Roy Lee McCoy walked into the office at Stebbin's Used Autos & Scrap Metal for the last time. His nose filled with the familiar stink of cigarette smoke, old metal, and tobacco juice as he stood at his boss' desk.

The old man looked up from his paperwork. "Yeah?"

"I'm here for my check, Mr. Stebbin." Like I have been every second Friday for the past five years, you cheap bastard.

"Right, right. Nearly forgot. Here you go, kid. Let me see," he said, holding onto the envelope as Roy Lee restrained the urge to tear it out of his hands. "You're taking Monday off, right?"

"Yes, sir. I'm visiting some friends of mine up in Lexington over the weekend."

He frowned. "Lexington? Kentucky? They don't go to the college up there, do they?"

"No, sir. They work for a welding company."

"Good. Good. Stay away from those smart-asses at the college, boy. You can't learn nothin' from them that you can't learn down here." He spit a brown stream of tobacco juice into a styrofoam cup by way of punctuation.

Except how to shave, brush my teeth, and use deodorant, he thought. "My check, please, sir?"

"Right." He tossed it on the desk. "If you're taking Monday off, you don't get paid for the day. You've used up your vacation days."

All five of them. "Yes, sir. I understand. Have a good weekend." Picking the envelope off the desk, he nodded and walked out the door.

Standing outside the small, shabby office, he broke into a triumphant grin as he opened the envelope and pulled out the check. Last time. Last time I'll have to grovel in front of that dirtbag. He fingered the paystub reverently as he climbed into his car.

Twenty thousand, four hundred and seventeen dollars. And eighty-two cents.

It'll be enough. It has to be enough.

After cashing the check at the bank, he drove his old Dodge through the small, decaying business district, taking care to stay below the speed limit. He pinched his lips together as he passed his aunt's hair salon, noting that all three chairs were empty. He briefly glimpsed Eileen, sitting at her desk, reading a magazine.

The town's dying, he thought. Why am I the only one who can see it?

Maybe the residents of Deer Creek, Alabama had just stopped caring. Passing the city limits, he increased his speed until he hit the turn-off onto Saw Mill Road. He guided the car expertly along the rutted, potholed track, and then swore viciously.

His father's truck was in the driveway.

What the hell is the old man doing here, he thought as he maneuvered his car past the truck and into the dooryard. It's football night at the high school. He should already be there, reliving the glory days when he was seventeen.

Taking care to keep his expression calm, he climbed out of the car and went into the house.

The smell hit him like it always did, a combination of old sweat, dog piss, and stale beer. "I'm home!" he called, and hung his keys on the hook by the front door. His father's old beagle, Jack, came up to him, wagging his tail.

"Roy Lee? Get your ass in here, boy!"

Working hard to keep the contempt from his face, Roy Lee walked into the living room.

Dale McCoy might have been a handsome man once, but those days were long gone. Overweight and with three days of stubble on his chin, he sat on the ratty old couch in a pair of greasy jeans and a faded sweatshirt. A bottle of beer stuck up between the seat cushions.

As always, Roy Lee was confused when he saw his father. A sick mingling of love, disgust, and pity roiled his mind. How could the man he had admired so much in his childhood have fallen so far?

"What the hell's this bullshit I hear about you going up north this weekend?"

"I told you about it last week, Dad. I'm visiting Ethan and Billy Joe up in Lexington. I'll be back Monday afternoon."

Dale frowned and scratched his balding head. "Maybe you did tell me something about it. But this old brain don't remember things like it used to." He took a swig of beer, draining the bottle, and belched. "All right, you can go." He held out his hand. "Let's have the rent now, boy." When Roy Lee hesitated, he scowled. "Come on, boy. Sixty a week, just like we agreed."

Seething, Roy Lee pulled out his wallet and handed him a trio of twenties. Dale staggered to his feet and shrugged into an old denim jacket, stained with dirt and engine oil. Shoulders hunched against the cold north wind, he left the house, the screen door banging shut behind him. He paused with his hand on the handle of the truck's door.

"Get yourself down to your aunt's and get your hair cut. You look like a god-damn hippy."

Then he was gone, the truck weaving down the track.

*****

Roy Lee restrained the urge to jump in the air and scream with triumph. With his father gone for at least the next four hours, there was nothing stopping him from leaving. And by the time the old drunk realized he wasn't coming home from his "visit" to Lexington, he would be so far away that he could never find him.

Not that he will care that much. All that matters to him is the money I bring home that he uses to buy beer and cheap whiskey. And the fact that I pay for the groceries. And half the damn utilities these days, too, since he made the decision that I was "renting" from him.

Renting my own bedroom. In the house I grew up in.

Dammit, Roy Lee, stop fucking around and get moving.

He backed his car up as close to the front door as he could. Pulling the folded cardboard boxes out of the trunk, he carried them to his bedroom, the one part of the house which he had managed to keep in decent shape. Rather than the filthy, smoke-stained walls of the living room or kitchen, his bedroom was painted a cheerful yellow. The floor was swept clean, with small, hand-knotted rag rugs throwing up bright swatches of color.

He unfolded the boxes and sealed the bottoms with duct tape. All right. Let's do this. In less than twenty minutes, he was packed. Clothes went into three of the boxes, which he carried out and stowed in the trunk of the car. His books and CDs went into others. Miscellaneous items, like the rugs, framed pictures, and his notebooks full of scribbled notes for stories, went into the last.

Roy Lee paused for a moment, looking at a family portrait that had been taken when he was thirteen. His father, still able to present a decent face to the world, smiled, standing at his wife's side, while Jillian McCoy rested both her hands lovingly on her son's shoulders as he sat on an ottoman in front of his parents.

He remembered that year. He had sprung up nearly half a foot in eight months. And a year later, his mother, driven to distraction by Dale McCoy's alcoholism and financial recklessness, had left one night, never to return or even to make contact with her husband and son.

He shook his head, dumping the picture into the last box and jamming it into the trunk. Grabbing his overnight bag, he made a last pass through the bathroom, gathering up mouthwash, toothpaste, and his razor. He took a minute to look in the mirror.

Light blue eyes and sandy brown hair met his tight-lipped gaze. Tall, with long, gangling arms and legs, the only thing he had ever wanted from his father was his height. He took a deep breath, resting his forehead against the mirror.

"Calm down, McCoy. You can do this." But it did little to settle the sick feeling in his stomach. Could he really jump into the unknown all by himself?

He frowned as he considered his hair. He was getting a little shaggy. Maybe his father was right for once.

He stopped in the doorway of his bedroom. The bookcase was bare, the closet and bureau held only a few clothes that he had worn out or didn't want. He had even stripped his bed of the sheets and blankets and stuffed the pillows into the back seat of the car. With a muffled curse, he spotted the second-hand laptop on his beat-up desk and stuffed that into his bag.

In the kitchen, Jack had pissed on the floor again. For once, Roy Lee didn't stop to clean it up.

Let Dad take care of it. It was his belief that Dale's casual disinterest in house-breaking his dog was what finally drove his mother to leave. He remembered her crying in bitter frustration as she mopped up dog urine from the kitchen floor, while Dale, unemployed for the past six months, sat at the kitchen table, playing solitaire and listening to Rush Limbaugh.

He tossed the overnight bag into the passenger seat of his car. He took one last look around, his throat tight with love and despair.

Should I leave a note? Tell Dad why I can't stay any longer?

Aunt Eileen. I can get a haircut and tell her on my way out of town. I can trust her to keep it a secret for a week or so. He fished his cell phone out of his leather jacket and dialed her number.

As the phone rang, he glanced at his watch. 5:42. Hopefully she hasn't closed yet.

"Curl Up and Dye Hair Salon, Eileen Harris speaking."

"Hi, Aunt Eileen. It's Roy Lee."

"Hey there. How's my favorite nephew?"

"Not bad. Do you have time to give me a quick trim? I'm on my way out of town and want to look good."

"No problem, kid. Otherwise I'd just be going over to the high school to watch our boys get turned into paste by Moulton again. How long?"

"Ten minutes."

"I'll be here. See you soon."

*****

Eileen Harris looked up and smiled as her nephew entered the salon.

"There he is. Good lord, child, you're looking more and more like your daddy every day."

"Thanks, I think," Roy Lee replied, taking off his jacket. He hung it up and gave his aunt a hug and a kiss on the cheek.

"Now, don't be like that, Roy Lee. Your daddy's not a bad man. He just has...problems. And don't complain about looking like him. Dale was a fine-looking man when he was younger. That's why my sister fell in love with him."

"Right. And what do you hear from Momma these days?" he asked as he sat down in the barber chair, his eyes suddenly sharp.

"Nothing at all, Roy Lee," she said, the lie coming easily to her lips after nine years. She thought she might be able to trust her nephew, but Jilly had asked her to keep her mouth shut until she decided it was safe to make contact with her son. And it wasn't going to be while Roy Lee was living in the same house as the man she ran away from.

She grabbed her spritzer and wet down her nephew's hair, smiling as he cringed away from the cold spray. "Ack!"

"Oh, don't be such a baby," she said. Noting the time, she glanced out the front door at the rapidly-dwindling evening light. "One second, honey." She walked around the counter separating the waiting area from where she worked, turned off the neon sign and locked the door. "I don't need any more customers tonight. Once I am done with you I'll go home for some dinner, than wander over to the high school. Maybe that way I won't hear Bobby Ray tell the story about how he scored four touchdowns against Polk High School for the ten thousandth time."

Roy Lee grinned as Eileen began trimming his hair. "Or my dad telling everyone about the time he had a pick-six against Russellville."

"And they would've gone to state if the referee hadn't blown a pass interference call," they chorused in unison, knowing the stale story by heart.

She sighed, wondering how her life had come to this, mocking her husband and brother-in-law in a crappy hair salon on a Friday night. She bit her lip, wishing she could go back to the eighteen-year-old girl she had been, and tell her not to take Bobby Ray's engagement ring.

Or even further, to visit her beloved older sister and tell her to stay away from Dale McCoy, that the hell-raising young man would turn into a bitter drunk living in a house gone to shitshack shambles.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror as she laid down the trimmer and took up the scissors, pulling up Roy Lee's hair and cutting it even with the line of her fingers.

Still damn fine looking, she thought smugly. Her light brown hair, the same shade as her nephew's, fell in one straight, shining wave past her shoulders. Dark brown eyes looked back at her from a face that was all but untouched by her thirty-seven years. A few crow's feet around her eyes were all that set her apart from girls half her age. Being on her feet all day made sure her legs were strong, and she had not packed any excess pounds around her middle. She stretched her arms high, working the kinks out of her back, smiling as the knit wool of her sweater caressed her large, firm breasts, having left the house this morning without a bra.

"So, what are your plans for the weekend?" she said, finishing with the scissors and picking up the trimmer to shave the back of Roy Lee's neck. His shoulders are getting broader. I think he's finally growing into those arms and legs of his. About time. He's damn near twenty-three.

He shifted uncomfortably below the apron she had tied around him to catch his hair. "Well, I'm leaving town tonight."

"So I heard," she said, finishing with the trim and starting to comb his hair into place. "Driving up to Kentucky to visit some friends, from what your daddy told me. He bent my ear about it for dang near half an hour this afternoon. I told him you were a grown-up and that if you wanted to take a road trip every now and then, it wasn't none of his business."

Roy Lee raised his head and met her eyes in the mirror. "No. I am leaving town tonight. For good. I've got the car packed and I'm hitting the road. I'm not coming back here. Ever. I want you to tell Dad in a few days. Just so he knows I'm safe. It's more than Momma ever did for us."

"What!?!"

Eileen spun her nephew around in the chair and looked at him with shocked eyes.

"What do you mean, you're leaving?"

"Exactly what I said." His face reminded her of her sister, the night she had shown up on her doorstep while Bobby Ray was out on patrol in his squad car, before he got promoted to deputy sheriff. Bleak and determined, she had told Eileen she'd had enough, and she was leaving Dale. "If I stay here much longer, I'll never get out. I'll be stuck taking care of Dad until he dies, and by that time it'll be too late for me."

"Roy Lee, you can't be serious." She didn't know if she was trying to convince him or herself. Her hands dropped to the arms of the chair and she leaned over him, face close. "You don't have any money. You won't have a job. What are you going to do? How will you take care of yourself?"

He didn't answer, and with a pleasant shock she realized that his eyes had fallen into the gaping neckline of her sweater, looking deep into her cleavage. She felt a stirring in her belly, a deep warmth that occurred all too seldom these days.

"Hey," she said, snapping her fingers. "Eyes up here, buddy." He looked up, flushing scarlet. "Answer the question," she ordered, drawing on her authority as his aunt. "How are you going to take care of yourself? Where are you going?"

"I've got twenty grand in the car. All the money I've saved from my job for the last three years, after I gave up on going to college. I pulled it out of the bank last night."

"Whoever gave you the cash will talk. That big of a withdrawal draws attention."

"I told Velma at the bank I was looking to buy a truck. No one around here will think that's weird."

Eileen gave an approving sniff. "Okay. You've got the money to last you for a while. Any idea where you're going?"

"I have a few ideas." Her nephew looked at her warily. "But I'm not going to tell anyone until I get there. I'm sorry, Aunt Eileen, but not even you. I trust you to tell Dad that I've run off and I'm not dead. But I need to make sure he can't find me."

"Just like your Momma," she said softly.

"I'm sorry." Roy Lee pulled the apron from around his neck and stood up, handing it to her. "I've got to get on the road." He pulled out his wallet and placed five twenties on the counter. "Thanks," he said, not meeting her eyes. "For everything." He looked at the front door, obviously about to leave.

For one fractured instant, she looked around the shabby hair salon, the empty chairs, the half-used bottles of gel and spray, the scattering of unswept hair on the floor. She closed her eyes and made her decision.

"Take me with you."

"What?! No. No way. I'm going alone."

Eileen wadded up the apron and hurled it into a corner, for once not caring about what the salon looked like.

"I've got to get out of here, Roy Lee. I'm dying in this place." She moved closer to him, face intent. "I've wanted to get away for years, but your uncle..." She swallowed. "He makes sure I can't. The last time I tried he tracked me down before I got to Huntsville. Had the state police looking for me.

"But if I leave with you, he won't know how to look for me. Or where. Hard to put out an APB on my car when it is sitting here in Deer Creek."

She rolled up the arm of her sweater, displaying a livid green and black bruise on her upper arm. "See that? That's what I got for walking in front of the TV while Monday Night Football was on last week.

"Please," she said, hating the way her voice sounded, thin and desperate. "I won't be any trouble. I can help drive. I can cook for you when you get your own place." She stepped forward again until he was trapped against the counter, her body pressing into him, her trim waist nestled against his thighs. Unable to believe what she was saying, she stated, "I'll do anything you want." Remembering his reaction to her cleavage, her hand dropped to his groin, cradling him. With a surge of pride she found that he was erect, his hot hardness throbbing against her palm.

"Anything," she whispered, a jolt of unexpected lust making her ache.

Are you insane, her mind shouted at her. Why don't you just validate every single white-trash, redneck stereotype that northerners have about us? Trying to seduce your own nephew? That is just sick.

I don't care, she replied. He's my ticket out. Out of this town, away from Bobby Ray, somewhere I can start a new life.

Plus, he's not bad looking at all. Seducing him won't be a hardship. Not after having put up with my husband for the last seventeen years.

Keeping her eyes locked on his, she unbuttoned his jeans, pushing them down below his waist. She slid her hand inside the waistband of his boxers, and smiled as his steely length filled her palm. More than filled. God, what would that feel like inside me? For the first time in years, she felt the welcome bloom of desire for another man, not the sterile ritual of masturbation while Bobby Ray was at the police station, safely distant.

Cradling his heat, she slowly rubbed him, fingers taking the slick pre-cum from his slit and spreading it around the sensitive head of his glans, while Roy Lee gasped like a landed fish.

"What do you say, baby?" she crooned, her nipples turning hot and hard inside her sweater. "I saw you looking at my titties earlier. Take me with you and I'll let you do more than look." She knelt down, his jeans now pooled at his feet, her eyes locked with his, her tongue sliding out to caress his thick, hard cock.

At the first touch, her eyes rolled up in her head. So good! The salty taste of strong male sweat and clean scrubbed skin lanced through her mouth. She ran her tongue up his shaft, hands reaching around to slide up his strong thighs, cupping his firm young ass-cheeks. Her mouth opened wide, taking in his head, then slid down the full length of his shaft until her nose was nestled in the wiry hair of his groin.