Page 4 of Rugged and Filthy


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But I was beginning to fray around the edges. Most of the dudes on the rig would head back to the mainland, rekindling their often tumultuous passion with their wives or girlfriends, others spending a couple of weeks hooking up with chicks they just met. Me? I preferred time alone. Even my two buddies often had a difficult time getting me out of the house. Why bother? There was nothing good beyond the doors of my cabin deep in the woods outside of Seattle.

As I yanked off my gloves, stretching out my back, I noticed both Hudson and Jack approaching with three beers in their hands. Pops had rarely been able to control the drinking on the aging rig, something that was left to me to do. Because I was strict in enforcing the few rules we had, I wasn’t the most well-liked rigger on the hunk of iron and steel, but I didn’t give a shit.

Two men had come close to losing their lives a couple of years before because of trying to work in a drunken stupor. We had enough issues between skyrocketing insurance rates and mechanical issues that required securing another loan, without being blasted in the news all over again.

But right now, a cold one sounded damn good, so much so I offered a rare grin.

“Whoa. Hold the fuck on. Did the sun just come out?” Jack snarled as he spun in a full circle. He was the jester of the three musketeers, the name we’d coined for ourselves. I wasn’t sure why he could be so jovial after spending a few years in prison for an aggravated assault, the prosecuting attorney aggressive as fuck since he’d been bucking for a promotion.

The asshole had won even though the evidence had been bullshit. Jack had been doing nothing more than attempting to save a woman from another round of horrible abuse from a bully. See where it had gotten him? A record that would never be expunged. I’d made the prosecuting jerk’s life miserable every day for two years afterwards. Not that that had done me any good either. Now the son of a bitch was a judge. One day he’d get his. Fate had a way of intervening every time.

At least the time spent behind bars hadn’t dulled Jack’s dark sense of humor. Nope, the gal he’d spent several years with, who’d left him on the day of his conviction, had done that. At least on this surprisingly humid, fucking far too sunny day he was able to smile.

Maybe that’s because we were headed for vacation or that the project had gone well enough everyone on the rig was getting a bonus for a change. Whatever the case, I’d be sleeping for a week solid as the first item on my agenda.

“To the big man,” Hudson said, lifting his bottle as soon as I’d grabbed a brewski out of Jack’s hand. “And it’s fucking freezing. I hate the goddamn cold weather.”

“Hear, hear,” Jack said. “Wait. Who the hell are we talking about?” He burst into laughter and I rolled my eyes before sucking down almost half the bottle.

As I wiped my mouth, I studied the larger than usual waves. It would appear another goddamn storm was rolling in. The amount of snow we’d seen this year had been ridiculous. It would be good to be on dry land for a change.

“What are your plans?” Hudson asked us both.

“Me? I’m thinking about heading to Hawaii,” Jack said, grinning after doing so. “Maybe we could all go. You know, some sun and surf, beautiful island girls. We could even share one together if you prefer.”

“You forget our buddy here has sworn off women completely,” Hudson teased, throwing me a goofy look. “But I wouldn’t mind hooking up with a hot chick or two.”

“Not me,” I said in passing. Maybe I was getting too old or too tired to give a shit about a woman. Maybe if I continued to tell myself the same lie, I’d finally start to believe it.

“When was the last time you got your dick wet?” Jack punched my arm and for a few seconds, I wanted to throw a hard jab under his jaw.

While I knew they were just teasing, the continuous comments about my lack of love life were starting to get on my nerves. “All three of us know how love works. It stinks.”

“I ain’t talkin’ about falling in love. I’m talking about shoving your cock into some sweet pussy. At least four or five girls. Maybe I’ll do them at the same time.” Jack’s laugh was boisterous.

We all laughed but I doubted Jack was kidding. He liked to think of himself as a ladies’ man. Hudson shook his head. “Do you remember when we met inside that dive bar, all three of us commiserating about our bad luck with women?”

“Which time?” I asked. “We did that three times if I remember correctly.”

“I remember. And all three times we talked about sharing a single woman together.” Hudson grinned like a kid locked inside a candy store.

“If I remember correctly,” Jack said as he rubbed his stubbled jaw, “we actually did share a hot little snack at least once.”

“Twice,” I muttered, although the last time I could barely remember since I’d been so intoxicated. That had been not long after Jack had been released on parole.

Suddenly, Hudson had a faraway look in his eyes. He’d had a rough time in his life. He’d lost his girlfriend first, his lucrative career due to a broken ankle caused by an opposing team member’s wayward puck shot and his parents right after that, killed in a car accident. At least the drunk driver remained behind bars, but it had nearly crushed his spirit.

How many times had either Jack or I had to collect him from a bar where he’d caused trouble? More times than I could count on one hand. I’d also bailed him out of jail twice. At least the sheriff had been sensitive to his despair.

“You know what I was thinking recently?” he asked, turning his full attention toward the rolling waves.

“Shit. Do we want to know?” I snarked, trying to keep the mood light. When he got into his melancholy shit, it usually meant babysitting him for a night or more.

Jack pounded him on the back and they acted as if they were going to walk into a boxing match. The two were like brothers, something I envied.

Hudson snorted. “I was just thinking how cool it could be if we did find one woman who we could spend the rest of our lives with. One big happy family.”

Jack choked, spitting out a gulp of beer. “You’re shittin’ me.”

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