Arnold (Margret Malone) Read online

  ARNOLD

  Nancy Cupp

  CLOVERLUCK PRESS

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Loveland

  Childhood

  Football

  Malibu

  Christmas Vacation

  Clara

  Football Camp

  Sentence

  Women Are Like a Truck

  Pushing the Limits

  The Edge

  The BusinessThanks for reading!

  More by Nancy Cupp

  The Margret Malone Series

  1. Hold On

  1a. Arnold (novella)

  1b. Blaize (novella)

  2. Driving in Traffick

  3. Coming soon, book three

  Copyright © Nancy Cupp 2017

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior consent of the publisher.

  This is a work of fiction. Any people or events are not meant to represent any real people or real events. Any similarities are unintentional.

  www.nancycupp.wordpress.com

  [email protected]

  Printed in the united States of America

  First edition 2017

  Cloverluck Press

  Faribault, MN

  1

  LOVELAND

  EDWARD LADE POPPED ANOTHER PILL and took a swig of warm Coke to wash it down. Nausea threatened to bring it back up again as he pushed his Kenworth hard to make as much time as he possibly could. He was already five hours past the eleven he could legally drive for the day. His head was pounding and he had a dull ache in his left arm. It would be four more hours until they got the load to its destination in Denver where they were due to unload at six AM.

  He checked his mirrors to see the long line of traffic built up behind them on the highway. The oversize crane he was hauling hung over on each side of the flatbed. Another truck was making its bid to pass them on the upgrade. It was the same truck he’d already passed three times on the downhill. He flicked his cigarette out the window and lit another one.

  Beads of sweat formed on Ed’s forehead. He rolled down the window and allowed the cold outside air to blast in the window. He looked at the pill bottle, rattled the three tablets that were left. Damn, how many came in the bottle? It was a new bottle. The tires roared as they hit the rumble strip on the side of the freeway. Again. His son slept in the passenger seat.

  “Wake up Arnold, you lazy SOB. You need to drive, I can’t stay awake.”

  “What?” Arnold tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes. “I can’t drive with this load on. I ain’t supposed to be driving at all, you know that.”

  “Don’t give me any lip boy. You drove it when we was empty, you can drive it now. Hurry up and switch places with me while we’re still on the flat.”

  “I ain’t never had a load in the mountains, I can’t…”

  “Get over here now. I’ll beat the liv’n shit outta you when we get home for that lip. Move now!”

  Arnold slid under his dad and took the wheel. Ed staggered to the bunk and fell in. Arnold had driven the semi before, when it was empty, and on a flat highway. He was seventeen and old enough to drive, but not old enough to get his commercial license.

  “We gotta take Loveland Pass. We’re too high to get through the tunnel. Wake me when you get there. You’re too stupid to take it through the pass,” slurred Ed.

  Arnold didn’t dare answer. He hated trucking. It was a stinking dirty job that his dad was forcing him to learn. He knew he was loosing time, he kept in the lower gear needed to get up the steep grades. His dad would’ve been on him to keep up as much speed as possible, but he didn’t care. As long as the old man was sleeping, he would drive as slow as he pleased.

  When they got to the turnoff for Loveland Pass Arnold yelled for his dad to wake up. He kept rolling, knowing his dad would swap drivers on the move again. It was starting to snow.

  “Dad, wake up dammit!”

  There was no answer. He had two choices. He could stop in the middle of the highway or keep driving through the pass. Loveland Pass was a dangerous twisting mountain road. It was only used when a load was too big to fit through the Eisenhower Tunnel. There was no place to pull off the road on the two lane highway, the shoulders were narrow and too soft for their heavy truck.

  Arnold knew he didn’t have the skill to make the tight turns on the steep down grade. With the heavy load they had, it would be a challenge to keep the truck slow enough without burning up the brakes. Snow was building up on the road.

  “Dad, you said to wake you. Dad, wake up!” Arnold twisted in the driver’s seat to try to see in the bunk. He only got a quick glimpse of his dad. He was only half on the bunk, his legs sprawled in what looked like a very uncomfortable position. His head wasn’t even on the bed, it was wedged up against the built-in cabinet.

  Arnold could feel the trailer fishtail on the icy road. The load was pushing them on the steep downgrade. He screamed for his father to help him. He couldn’t downshift on the grade, and the brakes just made the trailer slide more. He could see the tight turn coming up, he was going too fast.

  “I don’t care, you bastard! I’m letting it go.” Arnold screamed when he saw the trailer slide into a jack-knife, the weight of it was pushing them toward the edge. The steering wheel lurched, breaking Arnold’s wrist when the front wheels went over.

  It was almost dawn when Arnold came to in the twisted wreckage. He moaned in agony when he tried to move. The cab of the truck lay on its side at the bottom of a deep gully. Arnold could see flashing lights far above them on the road, the smell of diesel fuel was strong.

  “Dad, are you…” Arnold stopped in mid sentence. His father looked dead. Arnold struggled against the pain in his leg and hip. He had to get back there, he wasn’t going to take the blame for this.

  Arnold couldn’t use his injured leg, but he got to his dad, crawling and dragging himself. With every last ounce of his strength he managed to roll the body close to the driver’s seat. He cleaned the cash out of his father’s wallet, then pulled himself into the back corner of the cab and passed out.

  When rescuers finally managed to get to the wreck, they declared the driver dead. Arnold was airlifted to Denver once they were able to get a stretcher down to him. His injuries were severe, but didn’t prevent him from demanding a private room.

  2

  CHILDHOOD

  ARNOLD’S LEG HAD A DULL ache that even the morphine drip wouldn’t allow him to escape. Although the call button was close enough, the bulky plaster on his wrist wouldn’t let him use it. He reached with his good arm across his body to reach it.

  The slight twist of his body sent waves of agony through him that metamorphosed into rage. His angry roar could be heard throughout the entire floor of the ward, even before the crash when he overturned the small cabinet next to the bed. The tray and lamp that sat on it slid in pieces across the floor.

  “What on earth…”

  “Get in here woman! I’m in pain dammit, where the hell is that idiot doctor?”

  “Mr. Lade, calm down. Dr. Smith has other patients to…”

  “Don’t give me that crap! Get me something for the pain.”

  “You’ve had…”

  “Shut-up, just get me something.”

  The nurse hurried out of the room, she quickly checked the time until her shift would be over. The barrage of Arnold’s obscene insults about women followed her down the hall.

  The head nurse looked up from her computer. “What’s going on with Mr. Wonderful?”

  “I don’t know, but I volunteer to clean bedpans nex
t time the guy needs a sponge bath. I don’t know how a guy who’s that beat up can make you feel like you’ve been assaulted.” The memory of that morning’s bath was still fresh in her mind.

  “Dr. Smith, please, is there something we can give the patient in 213 to calm him down? The guy is impossible.”

  The doctor had heard the commotion. The kid had no respect for his nursing staff. “I’ll take care of it, Nurse. Stay out of there until I can sedate him.”

  An hour later Arnold lay drifting in and out of consciousness. His thoughts, or dreams, brought him back to his childhood, playing with his younger brother.

  …

  “How come you’re playing with trucks?”

  “I’m gonna be a trucker like Daddy. I’m gonna get the biggest truck and haul stuff just like him.”

  “Why? He’s never home, he hardly ever sees us.”

  Bruce shrugged his shoulders and kept playing with his toy semi. Arnold wanted to do something else, something fun. He headed out of their Kansas back yard to find excitement with the older boys on the block. Bruce would have to take care of himself.

  It was long past suppertime when Arnold slid through the lilac bushes framing the backyard. His father’s truck was parked on the street. It was a rare event when his dad was home, not necessarily a welcome one.

  He could hear fighting inside the house. His dad was yelling and his mom crying. Bruce, the idiot, was trying to get attention by showing off his toy truck. Arnold knew he was supposed to have been home long ago. He’d be in trouble for leaving Bruce alone all afternoon.

  Arnold sank back into the bushes. He had a spot hollowed out where he couldn’t be seen from the house. He’d dragged a dirty yellow step stool in there when his mom had thrown it in the trash because the plastic was cracked. It was a good place to hang out, except for the mosquitoes that wouldn’t leave him alone.

  The back porch light came on. Arnold cringed when his dad stepped out onto the porch.

  “Arnold! Where you at boy? You better get in here if you know what’s good for you.”

  He had no intention of giving away his spot. He’d sneak in later and get to his room, pretend he was there the whole time, sleeping. His dad was smoking on the back steps, but would go back in when the cigarette was done.

  Mosquitos hummed in Arnold’s ears. He tried to sit still, but the itch was making him squirm. He slapped the back of his neck with a loud smack.

  “Get out here boy!” A strong beefy hand reached in the bushes and dragged him out. “What you hiding in there for?”

  “I wasn’t hiding. I got a fort in there. I was in my fort.” Arnold ducked, he knew he was gonna get cuffed along side the head.

  His dad shoved him toward the back door, giving him a kick in the backside for good measure. “You don’t ever hide from me again. You hear?”

  Arnold ran into the house, he went straight for the room he shared with his brother. Bruce had rows of trucks lined up. He was driving the last one across the carpet. Arnold gave them a kick, sending the toys flying.

  “What did ya do that for? You messed up my truck-stop,” yelled Bruce.

  “I don’t care about your stupid truck-stop.” Arnold flopped on his bed, he was hungry but he wasn’t about to ask for any food. He could hear his parents talking about him in the other room.

  It was early morning when his dad yanked him out of bed. “Go out and get some breakfast, you’re riding with me. We’re leaving in an hour, now get!”

  “But Dad, I don’t want to go trucking. I hate trucking.”

  “Can I go? Daddy, I want to go too,” begged Bruce.

  “No, you’re too young. You’re staying with Mom.”

  “But I’ll be good. I love trucks, please daddy!”

  “No. Go back to bed. Arnold, pack some clothes. We’re gonna be gone a couple of weeks.”

  “But I don’t want…”

  “Do it now!”

  “I’ll go! I’ll get packed.” Bruce raced to his dresser and started shoving clothes into a pillow case.

  “I said no Bruce. Arnold, move-it boy.”

  An hour later Arnold slumped in the passenger seat of his father’s semi. He kicked at the dash, glaring at his brother, who was still begging to come along. He watched his father kiss his mom and Bruce goodby. He slammed his head into the back of the tall cushioned seat, his hands were balled into fists.

  3

  FOOTBALL

  ED SLAMMED THE DOOR, HE had a wad of mail in his fist that he shook at his wife. “How the hell could you overdraw the account?”

  Bruce and Arnold had been playing Nintendo on the TV all afternoon. When the yelling started, Bruce put down his controller and grabbed his coat.

  “Where you going dick-head?” Arnold never took his eyes off the screen.

  “I ain’t staying around here for another round of Ozzie and Harriet fighting about money again.”

  “They wouldn’t be fighting if she didn’t spend all the money.”

  “What makes you think it was her?”

  “It’s him that earns it. She don’t deserve to spend nothin.”

  “Shut-up Arnold. Where’d you get that idea?”

  “He tells me stuff when we’re on the road.” Arnold maneuvered his joy stick to go in for the kill. “Take that bitch!”

  Bruce shook his head and went out, closing the door carefully to avoid notice.

  “Be back by supper—pansy boy,” Arnold yelled after him. He checked his jacket pockets for smokes, there was only one left in the pack. A quick check in the doorway revealed his mom and dad were still hotly discussing the finances. Arnold picked up the purse on the end-table, he pocketed a full pack of cigarettes then slid a five and a ten out of the wallet.

  He had his hand on the doorknob, then decided to go back. He put the bills back in the purse, then took out a twenty. With a glance at the kitchen door and a shrug he took the ten back out. He slid the bills in his jeans. Before he left the five was his too. He tossed his mom’s empty wallet behind the couch.

  “Can I get anything at the store for you Mom?”

  “No, thanks honey,” replied Clara.

  “Get me a six pack of Coke,” said Ed, handing him a twenty.

  “Sure thing, Dad, I’ll be back at supper time.” Arnold laughed when he got out to the sidewalk. Not bad, fifty-five bucks in five minutes. He lit a cigarette, flicking ashes at the kids playing on the sidewalk as he walked by.

  Arnold walked down to the pool hall. “Hey Slick, what’s up?” Arnold shouldered a beefy teen his age.

  “Hey—you ain’t been around much, how come you ain’t been in school?”

  “How come you’re keeping track?”

  “Don’t know, just wondering how you get out of it. The team needs ya.”

  “The old man makes me ride with him—thinks he’s gonna make me into a trucker.”

  “Want to get in on this game? Ten bucks to get in, winner takes all.”

  “Yeah, I’m in.” Arnold tossed a ten on the table. “Waitress—bring me a Coke, and don’t take all day.”

  Slick set up the table and chose his cue. “So are ya gonna be a trucker?”

  “Hell, no.”

  The waitress arrived with Arnold’s drink. Arnold stepped as close to her as possible, his face inches from hers. He grinned at her, and breathed heavily in her face. She took a step back, but was up against a wall.

  “Excuse me,” she said, balancing her tray on one hand.

  “Why, did ya fart?” Arnold continued to press close to her.

  The waitress turned red and squirmed to get away from him. He made a rude gesture at her back and burped loudly as she scurried away.

  Arnold loudly sipped the drink he didn’t pay for. “You break, Slick, then I’m gonna clear the table.”

  …

  It was ten-thirty when Arnold got home with Slick’s thirty bucks in his pocket. His father’s rig was gone. That didn’t break Arnold’s heart none, but it was unusual that he’d left
so soon after getting home.

  Bruce met him at the door. “Where the hell you been?”

  Arnold glared at him and kept walking. Clara was sitting on the couch with an ice pack on her eye. Her lip was split and bleeding. He glanced in her direction, then went to the fridge to dig out some supper.

  “He beat her up again. If you’d been here…”

  “What you want me to do about it? She probably had it coming.” Arnold turned his back on his brother.

  “Don’t you even care about your own mother?”

  Arnold whirled around and got in Bruce’s face. “Look you pansy-ass. You were here. You stop him. I been cuffed around enough all ready.”

  “I’m just saying the two of us could maybe stop him.”

  “Fat chance. What did she do this time?”

  “Lost her wallet. He wanted the Coke you were supposed to bring him, she didn’t have her wallet when she got to the store.”

  Arnold finished making his sandwich, then sat down to eat it. When he finished, he went to his room. She’d have to deal with it herself.

  Arnold woke the next morning with Bruce rummaging around in the dresser for something to wear to school. “Shut the damn light off. I’m trying to sleep.”

  “You going to school today?”

  “Shut-up—no I ain’t going to school.”

  “What about football?”

  “What about it?”

  “They gonna let you stay on the team if you don’t go to school? I thought they were scouting you.”

  “Shut the damn light off.”

  Bruce was already leaving for school when Arnold stumbled into the kitchen. He eyed his mother sitting at the kitchen table. She was carefully drinking coffee, trying not to dribble because of her swollen lip.

  “I want you to go to school Arnold. I told him you couldn’t ride with him until school’s out.”

  Arnold got his breakfast and sat down to eat it. He didn’t look at his mother.

  “I’ll talk to them at school to let them know why you missed so many days.” She waited for a response from him. Arnold kept eating. “Arnold—did you hear me?”