Rodney - A retelling of Roxanne (RomComDrama) Ch5
Chapter Five
John walked along the street on his way home to shower before he was due to meet Rodney. The sun was shining brightly and it was a glorious day, but his mind was turned inwards, thinking of Rodney. It was all he seemed to do these days, the guy consumed his every thought.
Suddenly he realised that Mayor Deebs is walking towards him, Trent alongside him and behind them was a cow on a lead. Why is Deebs taking a cow for a walk? He wondered to himself, but he didn’t have to wait for long.
“John, it came to me last night in a flash,” Deebs exclaimed as one arm pin wheeled in the air, a huge smile spread over his face.
“What’s that?” John asked, not entirely sure himself if he meant the thought or the cow.
“The thing, the gimmick: The Nelson promotional cow!” Deebs smile got even wider, grinning with exuberance as he carried on, eager to explain, “You give her a name; Suzy, Bossy, whatever. You teach her to drink beer and then you put her picture on our posters, a cow drinking a beer.” He seemed to suddenly realise that John wasn’t getting as enthusiastic about the idea as he should be. “These things work,” he added defensively.
“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” John said animatedly while inside he had still been trying to get his head round the concept. A drinking cow? What does that say about our town - that even the cows are drunks??
“You like it?” Deebs asked eagerly, already grinning in anticipation of his response.
“I love it, I think it’s great!” John said, with false cheer because damned if he was going to spend his time standing here telling Deebs that he was totally wackjob insane. Not when he could be home, showered and stood at Teyla’s waiting for Rodney.
He managed to get away fairly unscathed by Deeb’s lunacy. He reached home and showered. Spent an age deciding what to wear and then realised that it wasn’t a date and he was over fantasising again. He dressed in black jeans with a white dress shirt and grabbed a sandwich for dinner before he made his way into town.
John walked into Teyla’s bar and, with no sign of Rodney yet, he made his way to the bar. He quickly found himself cornered by Deebs who had his arm glued round the waist of some blonde tourist. John couldn’t help wondering if Deebs had the cow out back with a row of beers lined up. “You think people go to Sun Valley to see their fire department?” Deebs asked, “No, work with me. You have to use promotion, that way the town grows and the fire department grows.”
“I’m just saying, you can’t run a fire department with the banana brothers,” John said exasperated, “We need professional fire fighters.”
“This town could be another Aspen,” the Mayor explained, “They make tons of money. As soon as this Oktoberfest is over, you will get your funds back, okay.”
“Like I have a choice,” John sighed. He hated politics with a passion, but there was something about Deebs that stopped him from ever really getting mad with him. Exasperated quite frequently, but never mad. He sighed heavily, until he suddenly spotted Rodney sitting with Teyla, he must have missed him arrive, distracted by Deebs. “There’s Teyla, I’ll see you later, okay.”
“Sure, sure,” Deebs assured him, with his arm still hanging around his female companion.
John walked over to their table, he graced Teyla’s temple with a kiss before he sat down opposite, with butterflies in his stomach, next to Rodney who offered John a welcoming smile and then looked at John’s empty hands. “You not drinking?” he asked.
John shook his head, “Nah, I have a drink, then I start to relax and next thing you know I’m starting to have fun. It’s not something I want to start at this point in my life,” he finished, smirking at Rodney, just pleased to be here next to him. God did he have it bad.
Rodney smiled back and about to say something when a stranger leant on the table and leaned into John’s space, “Hey, I hear you’re tough.”
He tensed, about to react out of instinct but he restrained himself, he couldn’t do that, not with Rodney having a front row seat. He didn’t want Rodney to see that side of him, ever, so he controlled the need to show this guy any reaction and just responded lightly, “I am...” his smile tight, “...but if you use a little tenderizer, I cook up pretty good.”
“Assehole,” the guy responded with a sneer and John wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold off before his temper flared so he figured he should just walk away. He stood up, walking past the guy and heading for the side door when the guy called after him, “Where you going scarface?”
The music that had been playing in the background screeched to a halt, literally. The loud buzz of conversation stilled, with the exception of a few people and that alone marked them as outsiders. As John turned he could see people waving at the guy that he should just run. John already knew the guy was too stupid to do that, the guy was in luck anyway because Rodney was looking on and he couldn’t react how he normally would. John just knew what he would think to a show of violence, already making it clear from earlier conversations that he preferred that people use their mind, so that’s what John would do, for once reacting with thought instead of instinct.
“That the best you can do?” John asked, with a grin plastered across his face that felt strange and alien and in stark conflict to the anger inside. “I mean, you have this,” he indicated the scar running up the side of his neck and into his jaw, “and that’s the best you can do?”
“Oh, and you can do better I suppose?” the stranger sneered at him.
John smirked, “Oh I reckon I could, yes.” The smile was smug and designed to challenge the guy enough that he stuck around for John’s plan, but not enough that he responded physically. He sauntered past the guy, who tensed expecting John to attack him, but John just smiled all the wider as he reached the dart board and pulled out a dart. “Pick a number,” he said, “Pick a number and I’ll find that many responses, and they’ll all be better than yours.”
The guy smiled his own smug smile and came and took the dart from John, he walked back to the line and turned, throwing the dart with precision and sure enough it thunked into the top segment, the number twenty. “Best of three, “ John said, as he pulled out the dart and handed it back to the guy. Everyone in the place was still watching, and there was a slight smattering of laughter at his words.
The guy just smiled and repeated the throw, twenty again. “Darts Champion, Denver” he said with a smile.
Damn. Okay, he could do this. He had a lifetime of insults to take from. “Fine, fine. Here goes. Twenty something betters. I’ll start with the obvious,” he said looking to the stranger who was stood centre stage with his arms crossed and a smug look on his face. John turned to him, directing his words to him, “If we killed everybody who thinks you’re ugly, it wouldn't be murder it would be an apocalypse!”
There was soft hesitant laughter from the audience, all more than aware that John could take the point of view that anyone laughing at these lines, could in effect be laughing at him. He turned and smiled at the audience, letting them know it was okay to find humour in these words, at least it was tonight.
“Literary,” he shouted at the audience, before turning to the stranger again, “they need to create a whole new word for you....because ugly just don’t cover it. Neither does Fugly.” He continued in this fashion, shouting out the genre of the insult to the audience with a smile and flair, but turning back to the bully to deliver the insult to his face. “Fashionable: You could detract from your face if you wore something larger...like Wyoming. Personal: Who needs birth control with a face like that. Sincerity: Well, they do say opposites attract…so I sincerely hope you meet somebody who is attractive, honest, intelligent, and cultured. Envious: Oh, I wish I were you... to know there’s not a chance in hell that anybody is with you just for your looks,” he paused as he cast his eyes up and down the full length of the guy, “... or your body. Political correctness: You’re no longer ugly; from now on you’re just humanitarianly challenged. Philosophical: It’s what’s inside that count’s.....luckily for you,” he looked the guy in the eye as he shrugged cocking his head to the side with a shit eating grin as he added, “...or not.”
The audience were getting into it now, laughing easily and with every insult thrown directly at the guy who had insulted John, the smug smile had slipped from his face. His body starting to tense as he realised he was being insulted again and again and not only that, the entire bar was laughing with John and at him. He obviously wasn’t sure how to deal with it.
“Humorous: Laugh and the world laughs with you...turn your back and they laugh at you... face them and they start screaming. Contradictory: I wouldn’t call you ugly... that would be an insult to ugly people. Evolution: When they said humanity would evolve, I don’t think this is the pathway they had in mind. Psychiatry: You have an inferiority complex and with a face like that, it’s fully justified. Melodic: It was unfair of the song ‘Ugly Duckling’ to raise your hopes like that. Sympathetic: What happened? Did your parents lose a bet with God? Anthropological: Now we know why some animals eat their own young. Deep South: Exactly how close were your mother and your uncle? ...and the family dog. Scientific: Ahhh, Doctor Frankenstein’s work I presume. Inquiry: When you stop and smell the flowers...are they afraid? Artistic: I think I know what inspired Edvard Munch when he painted ‘The Scream’ - How many is that?”
“Fourteen, Chief,” one of his crew shouted out to him.
“All right, religious: You’re the reason God stopped on the 7th day. No way in hell was he gonna risk repeating a mistake like you again!”
“Fifteen,” the audience cheered as one, now fully enjoying themselves and laughing raucously.
“Suggestion: You could always work in the tourist trade...as the Loch Ness Monster.”
“Sixteen.”
“Military: I've come across rotting bodies that are less offensive than you are.”
“Seventeen.”
“Aromatic: I think my nose is broken. You don’t smell as if you’re decomposing, and yet...” John waved a hand up and down the guy, from head to toe but left the line hanging.
“Eighteen.”
“Appreciative: Oh, how original. A scarecrow for humanity.”
“Nineteen.”
“All right...” he paused, actually having trouble now.
“You can do it, Sheppard, one more,” he heard from the audience and he fancied that was Rodney.
“Dirty: You’re what’s referred to as a 7 bagger, aren’t ya? I know I would need at least 7 bags over your head before I came near you.”
The guy had already uncrossed his arms, taking a fighting stance as he neared the end, but having stood there and be insulted twenty times was too much. He took a step towards John as he growled, “You smartass son of a bitch!”
John leant into his space, nose to nose as he responded, his voice wavering with anger, “You insult to humanity, you dull brained Neanderthal.”
He turned to walk away, but the gasp of the crowd alerted him to the attack and turning he found the man had finally had enough and was mid-way through a punch, aimed at him. He blocked the throw, pushing his arm to the side and continued turning so he now had his back to the man, he pushed his elbow in sharp and viciously hitting the guy in his ribcage and as the man leant forward, winded, John brought his hand up and smacked his fist backwards into the centre of the man’s face.
He walked towards Rodney’s table and leant over, whispering, “Has he fallen yet?”
Rodney’s wide blue eyes looked over John’s shoulder, just as John heard the thud of a body hitting the floor. Rodney turned back to him with a smile, his eyes shining in merriment as he nodded, “Yes.”
John looked into his eyes but just nodded, not trusting himself to say anything and then he stood and walked away. Annoyed that it had come to blows, and annoyed that this stranger had interrupted his evening with Rodney, he was not in the mood to smile and laugh so he left. He wanted his time with Rodney to be good, not marred by ill feeling.
xXx
John was sitting with Teyla the next day at Liz’s Diner. He had always thought it was nice here; it had a homely feel that he loved, and a sweet apple pie that he adored. Teyla had been making small talk.
“I got $5000 for the house this summer.”
“Which one of the five? The one on Rush Street?”
“Yes, you like him, do you not?”
“What’s not to like,” he answered with a shrug.
“Then why do you not ask him out?”
“No, I can’t. I have a 2 O’clock and a 5 O’clock, they’re lined up, mostly because of the old saying.”
Teyla looked at him quizzically, so he continued, “....about a man’s shoe size relating to the size of...”
“The size of what?”
John looked at her sideways, “Come on, everyone knows this.”
Teyla continued to look at him quizzically, but there was a minute pulling at the corner of her mouth that he was sure meant she was having him on. He turned to Old Mrs Gurinni, who was sat with her bingo chums at the next table. “Hey, Lydia. Do you know the old saying about a man’s shoe size?”
She looked thoughtful for a moment before the answer came to her, “Oh, you mean how the size of a man’s shoe relates to the size of his....? Oh, my God!”
Lydia had blushed scarlet and her friends were all laughing at her. John turned back to Teyla with a big grin, “I love doing that to them.”
Teyla shook her head and John thought he had just about managed to change the subject successfully when Teyla just asked outright, “So, why do you not ask him out?”
He should have known better. She wouldn’t let this go. He’d taken a sip of his coffee to stall his answer but now he put the cup back down with a heavy sigh, resigned to the truth he turned to her, little realising how obviously she could read the sadness in his eyes, “Sometimes I take a walk at night and I see couples walking, holding hands and I look at them and I think, ‘Why not me?’ and then someone will walk past and see the scar and I’ll see the horror in their eyes that they can’t quite hide and I’ll remember why not me.” The last words had a bitter twist to them that he couldn’t hide even he wanted to.
“You think Rodney would look at you like that. Has Rodney ever looked at you like that?”
“I won’t have people pity him for being with me. He deserves someone special, he deserves better than me,” he finished resignedly.
“Surely that’s Rodney’s choice, not that I agree with you one bit by the way.”
“I’m right here, Teyla. I’m stood right here waiting. If he doesn’t have an issue with the scar then why hasn’t he asked? He’s made his choice.”
“You’d be surprised. I don’t think Rodney would care, but you do and that saddens me. Is there nothing more that can be done with surgery?”
John shook his head softly, “No, nothing more.”
“What about make up. Some foundation or concealer?” she suggested.
John shook his head, “It would still be there underneath. Besides,” he shrugged uncomfortably, “I’d feel funny wearing makeup.”
“Because of what your father said?” Teyla asked softly.
“Teyla. Enough,” John bit out, the pain obvious even to his own ears.
She closed her eyes briefly but honoured his demands. Sometimes you just had to say outright that you weren’t going to talk about it or she would carry on. Even now, John knew it wasn’t the last time, that she would eventually get him to talk through everything that had ever hurt him. She cared though, really cared and he felt an inner peace in her presence that he wasn’t ready to give up yet so he let her, but he wasn’t about to have that discussion in the middle of the cafe.
They carried on with their food and gradually the air got less heavy and the smiles a little easier until soon enough they were back to normal. They made their way out of the diner, only to run into Sandy who poked John in the ribs, “You should have stayed last night. You were great, we were impressed. Rodney went on and on about you.”
“He did?” John asked with that familiar burst of butterflies in his stomach.
“I think he’s falling in love, but he doesn’t know it yet,” Sandy was saying conspiratorially to Teyla.
John froze, not even saying goodbye to Sandy as she walked on her way. “What does she mean, ‘she thinks he’s falling in love?’” John asked, and no matter how he tried he couldn’t keep his voice from cracking as he tried to keep the excitement contained inside.
Teyla wouldn’t look him in the eye, “It has been known to happen, hadn’t you better be getting back to the station?” she asked. He glanced at his watch and realised the time. She was right; he had to meet the fire fighter, who he still hadn’t met after three days. John hoped the guys had told him what to expect. He doubted they realised he was aware that they had their own meeting with every new starter before he met them, but there was no apprehension today, the thought that Rodney might love him had filled him with an euphoria that he hadn’t experienced in years.
“Okay, but I want to talk to you later,” he said with a smile, too caught up in his own hopes and dreams to see Teyla’s face fall a little more before he turned and made his way to the station.
TBC... Chapter Six