After dropping the women off at their RV and returning with Eli to their own, Harris told his brother he needed some time alone to air his head out. As Eli stepped out of the car, Harris didn't give him time to ask questions; he just sped away. A half hour later he arrived at the pub where his birthfather worked. It was late, after ten, and the night was dark with cloud cover. He drove to the back of the bar. A porch light at the top of the stairs lit a landing outside the small apartment, but it was dim and unwelcoming.
Harris' blew a breath. He was nervous about what he was about to do—had been all day. Now, with trepidation, he started toward the stairs, hesitated at the base, started upward, hesitated again, and then released a litany of curses as he continued toward the landing. His plan was to confront Lucky Larry to get answers to questions he'd always wondered about. After that, he'd return home for a good night's sleep, win the rodeo the next day, and then head for Waco the day after that. Or so he told himself.
He reached the landing, sucked a few calming breaths, and knocked lightly on the door. There was no sound of anyone inside. Maybe Larry was working in the bar. He knocked harder. He heard shuffling and his heart started racing faster than a locomotive at full throttle. After what seemed an interminable time, the door opened and Harris came face-to-face with his birthfather, Lucky Larry.
The stoop-shouldered man appraised Harris, cocked his head to the side, and then grinned. "So, you found me. I've been wondering when you'd return. I saw you the other day at the bar." He stepped aside and waved toward a cracked leather couch that had definitely seen better days. Harris entered the apartment and glanced around a room that was clean and well organized.
Lucky Larry watched him. "Did you expect your old man to be living in a pigsty? Have a seat."
"I didn't expect anything because you're nothing but a name to me."
Larry chuckled. "Got your mother's gumption, I see."
"You can leave my mother out of this!"
"Well, son, that's gonna be kinda hard since she birthed you into this world, and now you're wantin' answers from me."
Harris sat on the edge of the sofa, lowered his head to stare at the floor so he could gather his thoughts, tapped his fingertips together, and a moment later lifted his head to stare unflinchingly into Larry's eyes. He said caustically, "So what kind of answers do you think I want? Maybe I just came here to tell you what a lowlife you are for not stepping up to the plate with my mother. Maybe–"
Larry interrupted, "Is that so? Well, a man gets a feelin' 'bout another man after seein' him ride. I've been to all your rodeos that are close enough for me to get to and watched how you treat animals and people. You're a good man, not prone to outbursts, denigrating others, or attacks of vanity, even though you're a looker like I was." He smiled and Harris got a momentary glimpse at how Lucky Larry would have turned heads in his prime.
Harris returned his gaze to the carpet. "Okay then, let's get to the crux of my visit. Why did you treat my mom so bad by denying paternity? Why did you never come to see me?" He settled his gaze back on Larry and watched him lean his recliner back. Larry took his time in answering, and then surprised Harris when he said, "Because I'm an S.O.B. Always have been." Abruptly, he brought his recliner back to a sitting position. "But where are my manners? Would you like a cup of coffee or a shot of tequila?"
The shot of tequila surprised Harris. According to the bartender, Larry had been sober for years.
Larry laughed. "The tequila's not for me. I just keep it as a reminder that I never want to wake up in my own vomit again."
Harris shrugged as if it didn't matter. "No. I'll pass on the coffee and tequila."
"Okay, boy, then I'll answer your questions. First off, why did I treat your mama so bad by denying paternity? Because she was too sweet for me. Everything about her screamed domestic prison. There was no way I was goin' to be tied down to one woman when I could have a different one every night. Second, why did I never come to see you? Well, actually, I did once, when that guy in the wheelchair was there. Your mama rushed you into the house and then the two of them read me the riot act. I gotta hand it to Mr. Brightman; wheelchair or not, he's one hell of an adversary."
Harris just stared at Larry before saying, "That's it?"
Larry grinned. "Hell no! A few days later I was contacted by Mr. Brightman's lawyer and offered a settlement I couldn't refuse. A shitload of money if I never contacted you or your mama again, 'cause if I did, I'd have to pay it all back and get my arrest record aired to the world. Of course, the money was wasted years ago."
Harris' eyes widened. "You're telling me that my father bought you off, and you accepted?"
"Yup, son. That's exactly what I'm tellin' you."
"You son of a bitch!" Harris jumped to his feet.
"Now, son, that's what I already told you. I'm an S.O.B. In fact, by you comin' here, your pa may be able to demand a return of his money. Them lawyers he's got are clever devils."
Harris stomped toward the door realizing that the man who had spawned him was a low-life shithead. Before he reached it, however, Larry said, "Now why don't you ask me why I just admitted all this?"
Harris paused in reaching for the doorknob and after a moment said without turning around, "Why?" He heard Larry's recliner shift backward.
"Because I've always heard that the truth will set you free, and son, I don't want you to end up like me. You're a good boy, raised by a good mama and daddy, and you got a good life ahead of you." There was a long silence before he asked, "So, Harris, have I set you free?"
Slowly, Harris turned and stared into Lucky Larry's eyes. In his anger, he hadn't seen anything other than a pathetic excuse for a human being; but now he saw pain, guilt, and regret. He walked back to the couch and sat down.