It was six o'clock when Neena Thurman pulled into Wade Wilson's driveway. He was just stepping out the door with a bag of trash in one hand and his cell phone in the other. He looked at her with his head cocked to the side and said, "What the fuck? I was just about to text you."
"Lucky me," she said as she shut the door. "I was wondering if you'd be my wingman for something tonight."
"I think you're thinking of pigeon wings," Wade said.
Neena frowned. "No, I'm thinking of you because you are the one who needs to get out of your house from time to time."
He shoved the trash in the curbside can. He was in sweatpants and a greasy t-shirt, obviously not ready to go anywhere except back to sit on his couch and probably eat another pint of ice cream. He'd been a wreck since Vanessa died; he was aware. Everyone was aware. And he was aware that his friends were doing their absolute best to get him back into the dating world—or just the world in general. But he was also aware that no one with halfway decent eyesight would give him a second look without it being from alarm and confusion rather than actual interest. Vanessa loved him before and after cancer. He loved her before and after death. He couldn't imagine any world where that could be matched.
Wade said, "Thanks, but no thanks. Maybe next time when I'm finished with my stint as a model for GQ. I hear they're doing a casting call for sexy Freddy Kruger."
"I need a good wingman because I'm meeting a dude from Tinder," Neena said, not acknowledging his self-deprecation. "He seems decent and all, but you know how many creeps there are in the world."
"Oh, yes, allow me to accompany you on your hookup adventure." Wade shook his head. "I'd rather not, okay?"
Neena planted a hand on her hip. "You seriously going to leave me hanging? You're gonna feel really bad when they find my body in a dumpster."
Wade gave her a frown. "Last time I checked, you're the one who kicked my ass last week when we sparred. You put my hip out of place. I walked like I was birthday boy at a gangbang for three days."
She crossed her arms, hip still cocked.
"Fine!" he said, throwing his hands up in the air. "I'll go put on some shoes or something."
"We're meeting him at the Temp Stop in an hour," Neena said as she followed him back into the house.
Wade paused with his hand on the door knob. "The Temp Stop? We're meeting him at a gas station? What the fuck kind of a hookup is this?"
"It's not a hookup; it's a face to face meeting," Neena explained. "Not everyone goes on Tinder to fuck."
"That's what people who are just on Tinder to fuck say to people who say they are not on Tinder to fuck," Wade said as he kicked off his Crocs and shuffled through the debris to the couch where Al sat with a beer in her hand.
"You still throwing your pity party?" Al asked after a sip of beer.
Wade said, "Yes I am, can't you see that? Oh wait!"
"Asshole," Al grumbled into the bottle.
"Hi, Althea," Neena said with a smile.
Her demeanor shifted, and she said, "Hello, Neena, sweetie. Any chance you're taking Wade off my hands?"
"Trying to," Neena answered. "I'm meeting a guy and once he's showered and decent, he's coming along to be my wingman." Wade was already in the bathroom at that point, and he grumbled something before the water pipes groaned and the shower hissed to life.
"He'll at least make you look good," Al said.
"Like you would know!" Wade shouted from the bathroom. "Your standards of beauty are based on the 70's model. I am 90's sexy."
"It's 2018!" Al shouted back. To Neena, and much softer, she said, "I'm glad you're getting him out of here. He's gotten bad the last couple weeks."
"It's that time of year," Neena said with a sigh. "Can't really blame him."
"He needs to remember he's alive," Al said.
"He knows he's alive; I think that's the problem," Neena said.
Wade's shower was short, and he walked out of the bathroom wearing white and gray plaid pants, slip on blue canvas shoes with pink and gray argyle socks, a yellow polo shirt and pale blue nylon jacket that was new in the 80's. If his plan was to win people over with his sense of style, it was not going to work. Neena thought about asking him to change into something more suitable for a night out, but figured Wade was hoping for that reaction so he could tell her to fuck off.
"You ready?" she said with a half smile.
Wade nodded and said to Al, "If you need anything while I'm gone, don't call me."
"Fuck you," Al said as they walked out the door.
Once in the car, Wade rolled down the window and rested his arm along the door. "So who is this guy you're meeting?"
"He goes by the name Cable on his profile," Neena said. "A little older than me, but we have a few things in common. I figured I'd give him a chance, and if he sucks, I can use you as an escape."
"Cable?" Wade said with a snort. "Does he work for Time Warner or something?"
"He's a truck driver," she said.
"Truck driver?" Wade said, his scarred brow scrunched. "Seriously?"
"Yes," she answered. "He's heading down to Georgia with a load of oil."
Wade gave her an incredulous look, and said, "So a dude with a semi is hauling a big load of lubricant through town on his way down South?"
The humor in his voice made Neena smile. Times like this, he almost sounded like his usual self. She said, "Yes, Wade. To all of that, yes."
"And we're meeting at a gas station," Wade said flatly. "No, there's nothing sketchy about that."
"This is his normal run, and he lives locally," Neena said. "And it's a public place."
"It's a public place where it would be easy to kidnap someone," Wade said. "Good thing I decided to come along."
"More like dragged along." Neena took a turn and asked, "When are you going to get back into the dating scene?"
"When they make Tinder for the horribly disfigured," Wade said.
She frowned. "You are not a bad looking guy, Wade."
"Should you be driving with such bad eye sight?" Wade asked. Before she could respond, Wade said, "Anyway, other than being a truck driver with a load of oil, what do you know about this guy?"
"Not much," she said with a shrug. "That's why you meet people and talk."
"Meeting people is typically how I stay single."
Neena sighed, but said nothing. Al was right. Wade was definitely in one of his darker moods. He was always this way near the anniversary of Vanessa's death. Or her birthday. Or any holiday. Or any day something reminded him of her. He might make snarky jokes at every opportunity, but they all knew it was just another way that Wade plastered over the pain.
They pulled into the gas station, which was more of a truck stop, and Wade squinted out the window. He asked, "What's Mr. Dreamy driving?"
"A silver Peterbilt," Neena answered.
Wade barked a laugh. "Well, you know what they say about truck drivers."
Neena squinted at him. "No?"
"Old truckers never die, they just get a new peter built," Wade said with a grin.
She shook her head but didn't fight the smile at the lame joke. She said, "By the way, he knows me as Domino, and I kind of want to keep it that way until I decide otherwise."
"I got your back, Dom," Wade said as he gave her a fist bump. He gestured out the window and said, "Silver Peterbilt, 10 o'clock."
Neena looked and said, "Yeah, that looks like the one in his profile picture."
Wade laughed and said, "He's probably got a giant beer gut and swamp ass."
"You're horrible," Neena said as she opened her door.
Wade got out and fell into step by her as they walked to the side of the main building where the diesel fueling docks were located. He could see hints of the person in question through the windows, but no real features. Wade leaned to Neena and asked, "You gonna do a greeting hug or handshake?"
"I figure handshake," she said.
"Good choice," Wade said with a nod. "Whatever you do, try not to think about how many times he's jerked off with that hand."
Neena slapped his shoulder. "Asshole, now that's all I'm going to think about."
It was about that time that the man in question finally opened the door of the cab and stepped down to the pavement. He had silver hair in a high and tight cut and a black patch over his left eye. He was older than Wade figured he would be, considering the type that Neena typically went for. Looks-wise, he looked like someone who rarely smiled, but still had a handsome face overall.
"Domino?" he said as he approached. It was then that Wade realized he had a prosthetic left arm.
Neena smiled and said, "Cable?"
He nodded and held out his hand, and Wade had to fight the urge to laugh when he saw the thought of him jerking off pass through Neena's mind. She gave him a dirty look, and he smirked.
Cable turned to him and said, "You must be her bodyguard, right?"
Wade nodded and shook his hand. It was a very firm handshake. The hand was calloused and had that sort of permanent dirty look that only those who do manual labor can appreciate. It was an enjoyable handshake, Wade decided. "Yeah, I…uh…" He laughed and said, "Should I use a fake name, too?"
Cable laughed. "My name is Nate. Nathan Summers."
"Wade Wilson," Wade answered. They were still shaking hands, Wade suddenly realized. He coughed and stepped back. "Nice to meet you."
"It's nice to meet you, too," Neena said. She had a funny look on her face.
Cable—Nate—stepped back, a little awkward. He was a big guy, and Wade was surprised that he seemed so nervous. Or maybe he was misreading it, and Cable was hoping that Wade would disappear so he could flirt with Neena—or kidnap her, whatever.
After a moment, he said, "I need to fuel up and park. Want to meet in the restaurant in about ten minutes?"
"Sounds good to me," Neena said, looking from Nate to Wade.
Wade nodded, and Nate headed back to his truck to start fueling. Neena took Wade's arm and they walked inside the truck stop. It was a very typical truck stop, with walls lined with a variety of semi-truck gadgets and accessories, displays of trinkets and gifts that probably comprised many birthday, Christmas, and anniversary presents. It also had the typical gas station fare of bottled soda, energy drinks, beer, and ice, rows of snack foods, and a cold case of pre-packaged sandwiches A sign hung from the ceiling that directed people towards the showers, restrooms, and restaurant.
"What do you think?" Neena asked Wade as they walked towards the restaurant. It was a greasy spoon from the scent of it, and Wade could almost feel his intestines protesting.
"I think he's said like two sentences and that's not enough to make a judgement," Wade said. "What do you think?"
She shrugged. "He looks…" she paused, trying to figure out which route to take, and settled on, "…older than he does in his pictures."
"No one looks the same in their pictures," Wade said.
A waitress appeared and escorted them to a table near the windows. Neena sat first, and Wade was about to sit across from her, but she said, "No, beside me. I don't want him getting the wrong idea."
Wade sat beside her and said, "I think he's going to get the idea you're not all that interested."
She shrugged. "I'm giving him a chance."
Wade noticed there was one of those old fashioned tiny jukeboxes on the table, the kind that you stick a quarter in and pick out a song that played quietly. The songs available were all from around the time the little device was probably new. A lot of Elvis. He frowned.
"I kind of want to know the story behind those scars," Neena said as she flipped through one of the tri-fold menus stuck in the little plastic compartment attached to a napkin holder.
"No one has scars like that wants to tell the story when they first meet someone," Wade said. It felt weird talking to her sitting beside him so close, and it made sense that she would want to sit across from the potential squeeze. Less neck straining.
Neena laughed and said, "I kind of hate you right now, by the way."
Wade smirked. "You were totally thinking about him jerking off, weren't you."
"Asshole."
The waitress came by to deliver glasses of water about the same time that Nate came through the door. Wade was the one who saw him first, and he gestured with his hand to catch his attention. A flicker of a smile that seemed incredibly forced appeared, and Nate crossed the room in a way that made Wade wonder if he'd been in the military. Military people have a certain kind of walk, and considering the missing arm, scars, and haircut, Wade would put money on the Marines. Maybe special forces.
He sat across from Wade and the three of them placed their drink orders.
"Domino says you're head of security for a private school," Nate said after a sip of water. He had the scent of diesel exhaust and Brute, and his voice was rough and level.
Wade had to fight to keep from laughing. "Not exactly, but close."
"How close?" Nate asked.
"It's more like a strip club that kept the sign from when it was a private school," Wade said. "It's called Sister Margaret's, and I'm a bouncer."
Nate didn't laugh so much as huff breath a couple times with the hint of a smile. "How'd you end up doing that?"
"Pity," Wade answered. "I needed a job and my best friend owns the place."
"Do you like it?" Nate asked.
Wade shrugged. "It pays the bills and I don't have to mop the private rooms. What about you? How'd you end up a trucker? Did you watch Smokey and the Bandit and get all dreamy?"
Nate outright laughed at that. It was obvious he didn't do that much. He said, "Not exactly. More like I drove a truck when I was in the Marines, and just kept doing it once I was out. It's what I'm good at, I guess."
Wade smiled, happy to know he was right about the military. He said, "I was in the Royal Canadian Army, but I was just a grunt with a gun. Nothing very exciting. Domino was a sharpshooter in the Army, though."
"It was a medal, not a rank," she said. She wasn't saying a lot, really.
"She said you were Canadian," Nate said.
Wade glanced at her, then said to Nate with a nervous laugh in his voice, "What else did she tell you about me?"
"That's about it," Nate said.
The waitress returned with their drinks and the three of them placed their orders. Wade went for a greasy burger and fries that he was certain he would regret later. Neena ordered a Caesar salad. Nate went with the soup of the day (beef vegetable) and a roast beef club sandwich.
They talked while they ate, the conversation mostly being held by Wade and Nate. Several times, Neena popped in with a comment or two, but she seemed much more interested in something on her phone. Wade didn't mind. Nate was actually fun to talk to. He was kind of dry, sure, but he clearly had a bit of a sense of humor. Best of all, Wade didn't see the same kind of sad look that almost all his friends gave him. There was sadness there, Wade was certain, but it wasn't towards him. Wade had to wonder what exactly it was that caused the permanent frown lines by his mouth and between his eyes.
By the time that Nate needed to get on the road, Wade felt like he'd kind of made a friend. Neena gave a polite handshake and Wade found himself standing alone with Nate beside his truck. He had a weird feeling that Neena abandoned him intentionally. Not that he really cared. Still. He felt like this meeting was more for his benefit than it was for hers.
"It was nice to meet you, Wade," Nate said as he again shook Wade's hand.
Try not to think about how many times he's jerked off with that hand. Wade laughed to himself and said, "Yeah, it was nice to meet you too, Nate. This was…it was good to get out of the house."
Nate gave that tight smile and after a moment, he said, "Do you want to get together again next time I'm in town?"
It took Wade a moment to process that statement. "Come again?"
He shrugged his shoulder and said, "I like you. You have a sense of humor I can appreciate, and I don't really get out much these days."
"If you're after a free lap dance, I don't have that kind of clout, buddy," Wade said with a huff.
"I'm asking if you'd like to see me again," Nate said plainly.
"See me," Wade parroted. His brow furrowed. "Like…You want to see me? Like how? In what context?"
Nate was frowning, but there was amusement in his tone. "Something vaguely resembling a date?"
Suddenly, Wade understood. This wasn't Neena meeting a dude from Tinder. She didn't need a bodyguard. She had zero interest in Nathan Summers aka Cable. This whole thing was some kind of a set-up. And yeah, it was a well known fact that Wade was the kind of guy who was happy no matter what was in someone's pants, but this… He wasn't happy about this.
"Look, I don't know what Domino told you, but I'm not really interested in dating anyone right now," Wade said, a hint of anger in his tone. "I mean, I'm sorry, because you're interesting, have good taste in books, and are probably an overall decent human being, but I'm…" He shook his head and said, "I'm just not ready for this. Not right now, okay?"
Nate nodded and said, "Understandable."
Wade turned to walk away, a rant for Neena building in his mind.
"But if you change your mind, I have tickets to the Mets/Cardinals game next weekend," Nate said.
Wade said, "I hate both of those teams."
"I'm not a fan of baseball," Nate replied.
"Then why have the tickets?" Wade asked.
Nate huffed a laugh. "My father's idea of a birthday present. Figured you might make it tolerable. Also, beer."
"Beer can make anything tolerable," Wade said. He paused with another rejection on his lips, then he shook his head and said, "Whatever. Fuck it. Sure."
The smile was a barely there thing, but Nate was smiling. The look did something to Wade. The next thing he knew, they were exchanging numbers. Another handshake, and Nate climbed into his cab and Wade returned to Neena's car, pausing a couple times in the trek to look back. Both times, he found Nate was also looking his way.
Neena was standing with her arms crossed on the roof of the car, her eyes shining and a smile on her face.
"I'm not happy with you right now," Wade said as he dropped down into the passenger's seat. He looked at the number on his phone's screen and clicked SAVE. "I don't like being ambushed with a date."
"It was just a face-to-face meeting with someone I think is perfect for you," Neena said with an unapologetic look. "And I knew you would never say yes, so I figured out a way to get you to say yes."
"Blackmail does not make friends, Domino," Wade said.
She smirked. "It made you a friend."
Wade sighed and found that he wasn't really all that mad. He wasn't going to tell her that though. He said, "Maybe."
