by
Charlotte C. Hill
A pair of drabbles from Working Girls
"Buck, we're leaving. We're taking her with us."
Some things you just can't fight, like Buck going stupid over a woman being hurt. Damned if I'll let him drag me any further into this. I'll get Nora to Nathan, but after that she's on her own.
Old bruises... shit.
A knock on Nathan's clinic door stops any more talk. "Best not tell Buck," I tell Vin.
Vin nods, understanding. "Ain't like he won't figure it out, if he hasn't already."
"He does, he c'n finish it however he wants. I ain't gonna do it."
Some things, you just can't fight.
BUCK: So, what do you think, Chris?
CHRIS: About what?
BUCK: About the ladies.
CHRIS: It's a problem.
BUCK: Yeah.
"It's a problem. But you can handle it."
Yeah, right. That didn't last two minutes.
I think you really were gonna try to keep your head down on this, Chris, and I can't blame you. My past and women, you've got a right to complain sometimes. Just like I do about you not seeing the good in people. The good in us and what we've got.
Still, you can't walk away from a righteous fight any better'n I can, for all your ornery willfulness.
So we handle what's in front of us, and the rest can take care of itself.