Truck Me All Day Long Read online

  Truck Me All Day Long

  By J.D. Walker

  Published by JMS Books LLC

  Visit jms-books.com for more information.

  Copyright 2018 J.D. Walker

  ISBN 9781634868068

  Cover Design: Written Ink Designs | written-ink.com

  Image(s) used under a Standard Royalty-Free License.

  All rights reserved.

  WARNING: This book is not transferable. It is for your own personal use. If it is sold, shared, or given away, it is an infringement of the copyright of this work and violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law.

  No portion of this book may be transmitted or reproduced in any form, or by any means, without permission in writing from the publisher, with the exception of brief excerpts used for the purposes of review.

  This book is for ADULT AUDIENCES ONLY. It may contain sexually explicit scenes and graphic language which might be considered offensive by some readers. Please store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are solely the product of the author’s imagination and/or are used fictitiously, though reference may be made to actual historical events or existing locations. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Published in the United States of America.

  * * * *

  Truck Me All Day Long

  By J.D. Walker

  Eight months. That’s how long he’s been living at that damn hotel.

  Thoughts of my estranged relationship with Brandon Perez swirled in my head constantly. I rubbed my face and tried to refocus on the paperwork before me.

  As daylight began to brighten the horizon, I worked at my desk in the office trailer at ConcreteXpress—the company I owned. “It wasn’t as if I did anything wrong,” I had told myself, often. He’d been the one to cheat—not me. Brandon broke us.

  As the weeks away from my boyfriend turned into months of soul-searching, it finally dawned on me what a selfish bastard I’d been over the years. How could I explain the reason why, though? Would he understand the fear that had lived within me for so long and begged that I not become like the man who’d raised me?

  It had happened anyway, without noticing the damage I’d been causing until it was too late. I’d turned into my grandfather, and just like he’d driven me away, I’d done the same thing to my lover.

  I remembered the epic shouting match between me and Brandon at the Residence Inn like it was yesterday. It still haunted me to this day.

  * * * *

  “How could you do this to me?” I shouted. “What could possibly have been going through your mind to think that screwing a twenty-three year old was a smart thing to do? Don’t you have a fucking brain?”

  “Because you’re a condescending, self-righteous son of a bitch, and I can’t take it anymore! You ask too fucking much.” I stared at Brandon, stunned, because he never yelled, ever.

  “You want me to be this perfect person,” he continued, “to do things the way that you think they should be done, simply because it works for you. Well, it doesn’t!”

  “Are you saying this is my fault?” I asked, incredulous.

  “Maybe part of it is your fault, but it’s mine, too, for letting you dictate how everything goes in our relationship. You have these high expectations of me, and sometimes, I just want to do things my way, right or wrong. I’m ashamed of cheating on you, but that doesn’t change how I feel about our one-sided relationship.”

  Brandon sat on the bed and just breathed for a minute. When he glanced up at me, I was shocked to see tears in his eyes.

  “I love you, Adrian, to my last breath, but you’re too much work. To be with you, it has to be about you, and I don’t know who I am anymore. I’m lost, okay? I’ve been trying to please you for so long, I’ve forgotten how to be me. The guy at work? Right place at the right time. He just wanted to have some fun, and I wanted to remember what that was like. Sex—hell, life—being fun. He saw me as I was, flaws and all, and didn’t judge me, or expect anything more than I had to give. That’s why I slept with him, to remember how it could be. He built me up and didn’t tear me down.”

  I sat on the other bed facing Brandon and listened to his sobs. They damn near broke my heart.

  * * * *

  Trev Harding—my best driver in the fleet, and a good friend—had made similar comments to me when I’d told him what Brandon had done. He’d said that it would be hard to live with someone as unbending as I was, that I asked too much from a guy, and I really needed to think about what I wanted from Brandon—a partner in life, someone I treated as an equal and with respect, or a “yes” man. His remarks hadn’t made me feel any better.

  Before I got too lost in my thoughts, Trev—speak of the devil—entered the trailer and brought cool February air in with him.

  “Morning, old man,” he greeted me, catching the Freightliner keys I threw at him. “How’s it hanging?”

  “To the left, as usual,” I retorted, keeping it light. After gathering the day’s delivery orders for his route, I handed them over. “You stay over at Grant’s last night?” Grant Hess was Trev’s boyfriend.

  “Naw, but I will this weekend.” The look of contentment on Trev’s face still amazed me. This was a man whose dick had never been happier than reaming a different hole every night. And then, around the time when Brandon and I had our falling out, Trev had finally settled down with the man that made monogamy worthwhile for him.

  Since then, he’d been like a pig in slop. It was disgusting, since the shoe was now on the other foot, after I’d spent years getting on his ass for his slutty behavior.

  “Go on. I’ve got work to do, and so do you. And don’t text me dumb shit like you always do.” Trev had the annoying habit of sending me asinine missives throughout the day, just because he could.

  Trev winked at me and headed to the door. Before leaving, he turned to face me again. “Any luck with Brandon?”

  I cleared my throat and turned back to my computer. “We’re having dinner at IHOP tomorrow. It’s our once a week check-in to see how the other’s doing.” Pure bullshit, in my opinion, since we were both miserable. We just couldn’t seem to get past the elephant in the room.

  “Don’t give up. You love him, and he loves you. He’s worth it, so keep trying. You’ll get over yourself and get through this.” I saw Trev’s sympathetic gaze, and it was almost too much to bear.

  “Get outta here.”

  “You’re welcome,” he said as he left.

  * * * *

  I got home around eight that night. Since it was Friday, the other residents of the trailer park were having a bonfire and cookout in the open area I’d cleared out for that purpose years ago. The chill of winter was still in the air, but it was tolerable. I parked Dave—my old Dodge pickup—near the other vehicles and ambled toward the crowd.

  “Evening, folks,” I said as I stopped near the fire. A chorus of “hellos” greeted me.

  Bud Reinholt, a sixty-seven-year-old retired veteran who’d been living here for two years, called out to me from where he manned the grill. “You hungry, Adrian? We’ve got lots of grub.”

  “Thanks, but I ate earlier. Sara,” I addressed the sixty-five-year-old widow and former head nurse standing next to Bud with an empty plate, “I’ll be over to fix your sink on Sunday morning.”

  “Appreciate it, sweetie,” she said.

  I turned to the other residents. “Y’all have a good night. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” Chuckles followed me as I continued down the road separating the units to the last one where I lived, which was right up against the tree line of the forest.

&nbs
p; The trailer park—and a large sum of money held in trust for its care—was the legacy left to me by my grandfather, Andrew Bartholomew Mitchell. There were seven homes in all, mine being the biggest on the lot, with three bedrooms and two bathrooms.

  Grandpa Andy had raised me after my parents died when I was eight. He taught me everything I knew about life, including how to be a controlling bastard, just like he’d been. Everything had to be the way he wanted it, no exceptions. And that was how I’d lived as an adult. That was all I’d known.

  Until Brandon, I’d never considered that I was causing harm to others. It was good to be in the driver’s seat, so to speak, especially in areas like business, for example. Relationships? Well, I knew better now.

  I unlocked the door and headed straight for the bedroom. The house had a lonely feel to it, one of the reasons why I rarely ate here anymore. I didn’t want to be reminded that Brandon wasn’t around, and even though the Residence Inn was just ten miles away, it felt like a thousand.

  It didn’t help that Brandon’s cooking was to die for, either. There were so many things that he’d done around the place to please me, that I’d either taken for granted or hadn’t noticed until he was gone. It made me ashamed of my behavior.

  A half an hour later, I was showered and ready to call it a night. The mirror over the bathroom sink reflected newly formed strands of gray hair. I’d been blond for so long, this was stark evidence that I was truly getting older. I lay down in bed under the covers and took the picture of me and Brandon off the nightstand. I cradled it gently in one hand and used a finger to trace the features of the man I desperately wanted back in my life, if he’d let me.

  Brandon Perez was the most beautiful guy I’d ever seen. His mother was black, from Honduras, and his father’s family hailed from Cuba, originally. He had caramel-colored skin, thick, curly black hair with gray on the sides, and striking hazel eyes. He was taller than me, and broadly built. As attractive as he was, he could be intimidating because of his size at six-foot-four. Truthfully, though, he was a teddy bear, and very sweet-natured. He had been forty when we’d taken this photo. That was two years ago, now.

  Sad to say, I’d taken advantage of Brandon’s laidback ways and submissive nature to push him to a place he never knew existed within him—and neither did I. Yes, his cheating was wrong, and I’d been pissed for a long time. But then, I tried to see things from his point of view, and it was like a slap in the face.

  I’d had eight months to realize just how much of a control freak I must have been for him to even consider doing such a thing to us. I’d been so rigid. Everything had to be done according to my say-so, not one thing—even in the bedroom—done from his wishes, though the sex was always good. I stared at the two of us, holding each other and laughing at the camera on the beach in Costa Rica, a vacation we’d taken a month after he’d moved in with me. We’d been so happy together. I’d been so happy.

  I kissed his smiling lips through the glass and placed the frame next to the lamp. I turned off the light and snuggled down after thumping my pillow twice. My eyes closed as I sent up a prayer that tomorrow’s dinner with Brandon would move us a step closer to getting back together. I couldn’t go on like this anymore. I was lost without him.

  * * * *

  “I told you that if you shouted at a client again, you’d be fired. You remember that, right?” I glared at Derrick Choi, a regular driver who’d been having a little trouble the last few months being on time and controlling his temper.

  Derrick ran a hand through his shoulder length black hair. “You did, Adrian, and I’m truly sorry. In my defense, I did try to call you, but it went to voicemail, and the office line was busy. Aside from that, though, I was out of line, and I know what you said, but I’m asking—no, I’m begging you, please, don’t let me go. I really need this job. I’ve got my brother Joey counting on me.”

  I took a moment to check my cellphone and indeed, there were two missed calls from him. It had been a crazy day, for a Saturday. I sat back in my chair and studied Derrick carefully. He was half Korean on his father’s side. Though the family had been in this neck of the woods for three generations, only Derrick and Joey were left, if I remembered correctly.

  Derrick was very attractive, but way too young for my tastes—had I been interested—at twenty-five. To be fair, no one would ever match up to Brandon, in my mind. And it was because of my personal crises that I finally caught on to the sheer terror that Derrick exuded over losing his job. Whatever the hell was really going on had him running scared and stressed.

  Before the fallout with Brandon, I’d been pretty cavalier about other people’s problems. It had been my opinion that everyone should man up and fix their own shit. But after eating my share of humble pie, I understood that sometimes, life just hit you sideways and all you could do was scramble to stay standing.

  I looked at the clock on the wall. It was almost five, and Derrick and I were the only ones remaining at work. ConcreteXpress wasn’t open on Sundays, and I had to meet Brandon for dinner at seven.

  I sighed and massaged my neck. “Derrick, I need you to explain to me what the hell has been happening lately that’s made you unreliable and quick to fly off the handle. You’ve been with me for years, ever since you got your license. But the last twelve months have been…not at all like your usual behavior. What the fuck, man?”

  Derrick stared at me, his arms crossed tightly on his chest. I could see a tic at the corner of his left eye, and he swallowed, twice. Crap, he seemed downright terrified.

  I leaned forward. “Kid, are you in some kind of trouble?” I watched as he tried to regain his composure.

  “No, I—” He stopped for a moment and took a breath. “Joey came back from Afghanistan last year and he’s still pretty messed up—PTSD, flashbacks, paranoia. He’s skinny as a rail, and it’s a chore to get him to eat at least once a day. He was in a unit that underwent heavy fire and casualties. We live in a small apartment, lots of people above and below us with kids and dogs. It doesn’t help him stay calm all the time. Crowds and noise make him nervous.

  “We get complaints from the tenants when something sets him off, and I’ve been warned twice by management. One more strike and we’re out. I do what I can, and I pay someone to sit with him during the day while I’m at work—college students, mostly. They don’t always pan out, though, and sometimes I’m left in the lurch. If he wakes up in the middle of the night screaming, it takes a while to calm him down, help him remember where he is, and then get him back to sleep. Which means I’m tired and I get here late. I lose a lot of sleep, and yes, that affects my temper.”

  He clenched his fists. “I…sometimes it’s…Anyway, I’m saving up money so I can get him the treatment he needs. The meds he gets through the VA aren’t much help, since he doesn’t like how they make him feel, so he doesn’t take them unless I make him. But there’s this place that’ll work with him twenty-four-seven, where he can stay and get the right kind of care.”

  Goddamn, what a mess. “Derrick, why didn’t you say something earlier? I would have tried to help or rearranged your schedule, maybe.” Well, perhaps not, since I typically came across as a hard-ass to my employees and clients—on purpose.

  Derrick’s expression became obstinate. “It’s my problem, and I’m trying to fix things. You shouldn’t have to accommodate me.” Had I been that prideful when I was younger? Probably.

  “Well, it’s become my problem, now.” I watched his shoulders sag and felt sympathy. I leaned back in my chair. “Okay, here’s my offer. I own a trailer park, as you know. A unit became available last month. It’s yours—and your brother’s—if you want it. It’s pretty quiet where I live, and there’s a forest nearby. The majority of the renters are senior citizens, including a retired nurse. We help each other out, and it’s like a little commune. We even have a retired veteran who would likely understand exactly what you and your brother are going through right now.

  “I don’t really need
the money, but to help you keep your pride, I’ll charge you half or so of whatever rent you’re paying now at your apartment, per month. You can move in right away, and I’ll change your hours here, come Monday, to start at eight in the morning, instead of six. I’ll redistribute the loads accordingly. Knowing my tenants like I do, they’ll likely be happy to help you keep an eye on your brother, if you ask, and the fresh air is bound to do him—and you—some good. What do you say?”

  Derrick stared at me, likely trying to decide if I was on the level or not. That much suspicion living inside a person so young was hard-earned, and sad to see. “Why would you do that?”

  “Let’s just say I want to make things smoother for you so my life is easier, too. I have a business to run, and I need some semblance of normalcy to return. You do this, and you have a better chance of keeping your job. Your choice.”

  “Is this an ultimatum?” he asked, clearly resigned.

  “I’d like to think not, since it would be in your brother’s best interest to have better, more relaxed surroundings, right?” It was mean of me to point that out, but I wanted to get past his stubborn hide.

  Derrick closed his eyes and breathed in and out, slowly. “Okay.”

  “Good.” I wrote down the address of the trailer park and handed it to him. “Move in tomorrow, if you want to, and I’ll help get you settled. I have some guys I can call to assist you, if you need it.”

  “Thanks, Adrian. I would never have expected this from you.” And therein lay the rub.

  “I just want my driver back on an even keel. Deal?” I held my hand out to shake his.

  He took it and pumped it firmly, twice. “Deal.” After clearing his throat, he said, “We don’t have much, so we won’t need extra help. I’ll take care of ending the lease at the apartment next week, but I’ll bring my brother over first thing tomorrow, and you said there were folks that would watch him, if I asked?”

  “Yup.”

  “Okay, I’ll introduce him around, and then, if he’s comfortable, I’ll leave him there while I pack up our stuff. This means a lot to us.”