Disclaimer: Oh, forgot this last time. No mine. Property of Showtime, CowLip, etc.
Call Me Hunter
Chapter 1
Hotshot
1
As far back as he could remember there had been fighting. It seemed that his parents had always hated each other. Even as a child he couldn't even fathom the idea of them being remotely romantic.
His father worked as a mechanic at the same garage he'd worked at since graduating from high school. His parents had been young when they had gotten married and it had evidently been an uphill battle all the way. While his father was obviously the bread winner for the family his mother couldn't afford not to work. So he spent countless afternoons tucked away in the corner booth of the restaurant where she worked as a waitress.
To any normal outsider his parents just seemed to be minimally involved with one another and simply lead very separate lives.
Jimmy, on the other hand, saw it all. He understood because every night, after an especially tense dinner, he was sent to his room to entertain himself. As a young child he was grateful to go, to get away from the yelling and the anger. Eventually, however, he began sitting in the doorway to the hall and just listening, just trying to understand.
It started almost every night, over work, over finances, over the fact that James wasn't spending enough time with his son, over the fact that Rita should be working more hours, and over countless other topics.
He felt as though his mother was the instigator more often than his father. She was always asking why he wasn't going up for a promotion, or why he wasn't moving to a garage that would pay him more.
For the time his father spent at the garage Jimmy sometimes thought that his father hadn't wanted him. As a few years passed he recognized however that, on the nights his mother came home drunk or heavily drugged, his father worked hard to keep him away from her when she was in that state. He wasn't stupid by any means, and where he grew up he knew more about drugs from personal experience than from school.
1
"So what are you doing after school today?" Kyle asked him as they sat at lunch, two eleven-year-olds who should have had nothing more on their minds than what they were going to be doing at recess.
"Don't know?" Jimmy said, "Probably going home and trying to finish my homework."
"Jimmy. C'mon man, that's boring. Let's go to your house after school. We can get something to eat and play basketball at the park."
Jimmy fell quiet, chewing on a cold fry. It was Thursday, his mother's one day off from work. When he got home she was usually half-cocked and stoned out of her mind. His dad would be home early, but bringing someone else over would be a mistake. He could already hear the lecture.
"Jimmy?"
"Huh?"
"Well, yes or no."
"Oh," he shook his head, clearing the cobwebs, "We can't. My mom isn't going to be home and I'm not supposed to have anyone over unless she or my dad is there."
Kyle sighed.
"What about your house?" Jimmy asked. "It's just as close to the park as mine is."
He reached across the table and snatched one of the cookies out of Kyle's lunchbox and pulled it back to his side of the table before Kyle could stop him.
"And your mom makes the best cookies. Plus she's hot." He knew the comment would piss his friend off, just as it did when their other friends made them. The 'your mom' jokes were going through their rotation of popularity this generation.
Sure enough Kyle shook his head, "Isn't it a little early for the 'your mom' cracks?"
"It's never too early," Jimmy grinned cheekily at his friend and took a bite out of the chocolate chip cookie.
"Fine, we'll go to my house, but you have to behave yourself."
Jimmy gave a look that feigned innocence, "Who me?"
"Asshole," Kyle laughed, throwing a straw wrapper across the table at him.
Jimmy smiled to himself as he finished his lunch. It was times like this, when he could forget about all of the shit going on at home, that he really felt happy.
1
Jimmy bounced up the stairs later in the afternoon, but his steps immediately slowed when they reached the floor his family lived on. He could hear the yelling from the end of the hall, and feel the tension in the air along with it.
He unlocked the door and let himself inside, bracing himself for whatever had been going on before he entered.
"And where have you been?" His mother's voice was harsher than usual.
"The park with Kyle," he replied simply, not quite sure what the problem was as it wasn't all that unusual an occurrence.
"So it didn't seem to you that your parents might be worried. You could have called!"
"Rita, leave him alone," James snapped from the kitchen table where he was looking over some of their bills.
It was also that time of month, which, quite honestly, explained a lot.
"He needs to be more responsible."
As his mother stepped closer to him Jimmy could smell the alcohol and he took a step back toward the door. She was too distracted to catch the movement but his father noticed it, understood it.
"Yeah Rita, because you're obviously an excellent example of responsibility."
He motioned Jimmy out of the kitchen and Jimmy gratefully dodged past his mother and down the hall.
"You know, you can't just send him to his room over everything," Rita snapped as he was reaching his bedroom. He stepped just inside the doorway and left the door opened so that he could listen.
"He's getting older, James. He's nearly a teenager and pretty soon he's going to stop listening to you and me and make his own choices, fuck up his own life, and we're not going to be able to say we gave him the good advice that stopped him from doing so."
His father grunted, "Well hopefully he doesn't make the same mistakes we did. We can only hope he'll steer clear of the alcohol and the drugs that you seem so intent on keeping a constant in your life and-"
"James!"
His father ignored her and went on, "And God forbid he ever thinks he wants to get married and have kids."
There was dead silence for a long moment.
"Are you saying you wish we hadn't had him?"
"Of course not." James replied immediately, "He's my son, I love him. But think about it, Rita, if you hadn't gotten pregnant do you think we'd still be together?"
"You act as though the whole thing is my fault! And if I'm not mistaken it was before I was pregnant that you proposed."
The floor creaked as his father paced the living room, "We were young. I'm just saying, if we had waited I don't think that we'd be where we are right now."
"Do you want out?" His mother sounded oddly sobered up, as though this conversation had been dwelling for a long time. It probably had.
"Rita…"
"No, I mean it. If you want out, all you have to do is say it."
"No, I'm right where I want to be," James said, but it was strained, "I want to take care of our son and I want to be here with you. I just wish things worked better. I wish things were going better at work. I wish things were better between me and you. And for fucks sake I wish you'd stop drinking so goddamn much and pumping yourself full of those fucking drugs. It may have been cool when we were younger but honestly, you're getting a bit old for it."
There was the sound of skin on skin contact, followed by a very long, deafening silence.
"Exactly what I was talking about. Thanks for the reminder Rita. Now, I am going to go get us some dinner and I suggest you calm yourself down before I get back."
The door slammed shut behind him as he left the apartment. Jimmy quietly closed the door to his room. So much for avoiding the tension for twenty-four hours.
1
It was just after school started up again that fall that the first, of several, life-changing moments began the downward spiral of his teenage life. As they sat around the dinner table his parents began talking. Or rather, his mother started pointing out problems.
"I need to get another job," she said, although she was exhausted from her third double of the week, "The waitressing just isn't making me enough anymore. Either that or you need to go up for that management position. You told me Nick's leaving at the end of the month, and there is a sizeable pay raise."
"We're doing fine," James didn't look up from his plate, not really wanting this to turn into a full-blown argument.
"Yeah, we're getting by," she agreed, "But Jimmy is going to need new clothes in the few months, and in case you didn't know those do get more expensive as kids get older. And as for that hunk of junk you call a car, I'd be surprised if it makes it to Christmas."
"And you need more money to support your habits," he added on, dropping his utensils to his plate.
"Don't give me that bullshit James," What he had said was true but she was trying to push it aside, to focus on what she could make him understand their need, "We can't live like this forever. Think about your son."
Jimmy hadn't said a word the entire time. He hated this, when his parents used him as a bargaining chip in their arguments.
His father sighed heavily and looked over at him. If there could be one thing said about James Montgomery, it was that he always take care to make sure that his son was not involved in their fiercer arguments.
"Jimmy, go to your room," he said. He knew there was an argument coming and he really didn't want his son to be pulled into it.
Jimmy didn't say a word, just took a final bite of his dinner, got up and left the room. However, he didn't go all the way to his room. He closed the door from the outside and leaned against the wall just outside the kitchen. With the tension that had been building since he had gotten out of school the previous year something was going to happen tonight.
There were no words exchanged for several minutes and the only sound that could be heard was his father clearing the plates and piling them in the sink. It was silent so long that Jimmy almost considered retreating to his room
"We can't avoid this conversation forever," his mother finally snapped.
"I have no problem going up for that promotion Rita," he sighed, "At least, I wouldn't if I didn't know you were just going to spend the excess on coke and alcohol."
"Fuck you, you fucking asshole."
Rita's attitude tended to quickly change when she was angry, "I am not- I do not need that shit. Your son, on the other hand, is getting more expensive as the months pass."
"I know," James said, "And I wish I could believe you, but I don't."
"Get off your high horse, you asshole."
There was the sound of dishes being jostled as his mother continued to speak, "If memory serves me correctly you're not up for parent of the year either, and you're not exactly clean."
"Rita," James snapped, "Stop waving that thing around."
Jimmy couldn't tell what was going on and he snuck closer to the doorway.
"Help me take care of our son, James."
"Fine, I'll take that promotion and I'll take care of him. You can put all of your money toward your bad habits."
The sounds of a scuffle echoed into the hall and Jimmy didn't dare sneak any closer for fear of what he might see. There was a pained cry from his father followed closely by the sound of something hitting the ground.
"Bitch!" James Montgomery's voice was loud and angry.
Jimmy peered around the doorway to see the knife on the floor and his father holding his bleeding arm.
"Serves you right," she snapped, but her voice shook. At the same time the look in her eyes was almost daring him to hit her and for a moment he looked like he wanted to.
James sighed and grabbed his coat, heading for the door out of the apartment. He stopped abruptly when he spotted Jimmy crouched in the hallway.
With gentleness he seemed to reserve only for his son James Montgomery directed him back to his room and said roughly, "I told you to stay here. Please listen this time, Jimmy. Do your homework, go to bed, and do well in school tomorrow. Just give your mother some space and behave. I'll see you this weekend."
He kissed Jimmy's forehead and turned and left the apartment.
Rita screamed after him and Jimmy quickly closed his bedroom door, intent on doing just what his father had told him. Somehow he knew all of his dad's things would be gone by the time he got home the next day.
That weekend he was sitting at his usual corner booth in his mother's restaurant, going over an English assignment when his father arrived. He was so absorbed in the book that he didn't even notice until his mother raised her voice in the deserted building.
"I don't want it."
"Just take the money, Rita."
"Fuck you," she snapped, "You'll go up for a promotion after you leave. I don't want your money you miserable bastard."
"Then take it for our son."
"Our son? You mean my son. He stopped being your son the minute you walked out that door."
"Rita-"
"No, I don't want to hear it!"
He sighed, "Fine."
Rather than just leaving he dropped a thick envelope on the bar between them, "But I'm serious Rita, if either of you need anything, call me."
"Get out," she seethed through gritted teeth.
"Hey Dad," Jimmy called out as his father very nearly walked past his booth without seeing him.
His father stopped and leaned on the table for a moment. "You can always come down to the garage if your mother gets to be too much, okay Trouble."
"Okay Dad," Jimmy grinned as his father patted him on the shoulder and strolled out of the building.
That was the last time he ever saw or heard from James Montgomery.
1
He loved his parents, of course he did. He idolized them as any kid did at his age, and, despite their imperfections, he couldn't just push those feelings away. It sucked when his dad left because the garage he worked at was across the city, far enough away that Jimmy couldn't get there easily.
Rita self-medicated with her alcohol. So, instead of going out with his friends after school as he was used to, Jimmy walked home and did his homework and took care of things around the house for his mom.
He was too young for this, and the feelings he was having over their whole situation were something he couldn't deal with. He didn't know what to do.
1
He came home six months later, shortly after turning twelve, to find everything in their apartment packed into boxes. The only things not boxed up were the furniture.
"Mom!" he yelled.
She appeared in the door to the kitchen looking a whole lot calmer than he was feeling at the moment. She saw him looking around, eyes wide, as he took in the sight of the now-bare living room
"Hey baby," she greeted.
"What are you doing?" he asked, "Where's all of our stuff?"
Rita sighed, "We're moving, baby. Just to a smaller place. We don't need all of this with your dad gone, we can't afford it."
Jimmy's stomach dropped. He'd heard her arguing with the landlord the night before when he came to collect for utilities. He'd threatened to evict them but Jimmy had been certain his mother would be able to pull it off as they usually did.
"Where are we going?" he asked.
"Just outside of Pittsburgh." She said evenly.
"Pittsburgh!?" When she'd said moving he'd expected a cheaper apartment close by, not moving to a different city, away from his friends, and the father he never saw. "What about school?"
"I called the school about having your transcripts sent over. I'm sure you'll be back in school in a few days. Next week at the latest."
"But my friends-"
"You'll make new ones," her voice rose an octave.
She sighed, "We have to do this, Jimmy. It's a chance to start fresh."
He stared at his mother. This was all so easy for her. She could get a job anywhere and had the ability to drive back and visit people. But he, on the other hand, was going to lose all of his friends. Especially with so little notice he didn't know how he could ever get in contact with most of them again. He was going to lose everything.
"He offered to give you money!" he yelled, "Dad would still be giving you money so why don't you just apologize so that we can stay!"
Though she seemed a bit shocked by his outburst her face simply tightened and then quickly softened. She stepped forward and crouched down to his height.
"Even if we did have your dad's money we couldn't afford to stay here, baby. He obviously didn't care enough to stick around or come back and see you."
That stung a lot more than he thought it would, but something in his gut began second guessing his devotion to his father and think that maybe she was right. That was the goal of her saying it, obviously, but he couldn't have known that.
"We don't need his money. We can start fresh, without him. We'll be fine." She fixed his hair, "Now do me a favor and go make sure all of your stuff is packed."
"You're right, Mom." He said, still hurt by what she'd said about his father.
The smile that crossed her face at his agreement showed that she thought it was interesting that she needed the approval of her eleven-year-old son for those important events in her life.
A few hours later found them in their new place, courtesy of a co-worker's pickup truck. They'd never lived in a large apartment before but this one was tiny. There was a bathroom, a bedroom for Rita, and one large, open room that housed the kitchen and the living room. He just stood there, staring around the small space.
"Where am I going to sleep?" he finally asked when his mother stopped moving around enough that he could catch her attention.
Rita patted the dilapidated couch that had been supplied to them by the landlord.
"I know it's not much Jimmy, but we can't afford something much bigger right now. As soon as we can we'll find something better, I promise."
Jimmy simply nodded, falling silent. There was really nothing he could say because it was the truth, and he was just the kid. Feeling slightly dazed he sat down on said couch and just watched as his mother began to unpack their things.
1
A/N: I'm not completely happy with this chapter. I would love to have had it be more of Hunter's thoughts but I think it's appropriate that they become more of the story as he gets older. Even outside of that I'm not completely thrilled with it, but I couldn't really get much more.
And before you ask, yes, Hunter will be referred to as Jimmy for a few more chapters.
Reviews are love.
Hotshot