Rig Snippet

He'd never been Jeremy. That was Daddy's name and it fit him like a badly-cut shirt. He'd been Bubba and Son all the way up to first grade, when Mrs. Winters said he had to use his real name -- had to be Jeremy or Alexander, couldn't be Bubba in school with the big boys. He'd hated her something fierce, evil old bat with stinky teeth, but Momma'd said to call him Alex and Alex he was. For damned near twenty years he'd just been Alex Roberts. It suited him, worked. It wasn't fucked up like Bobby Roberts, wasn't hard to say or spell. A nice t-shirt kinda name, grown-up enough, but not starched. Then he got himself a marine and a whole new wardrobe of names. Rigger, to wear among friends. Rig for around the house wear. Roberts for dress-up public outings. Slut was as right as his little cutoffs he wore just for them. Smartass for a little color. Then there was Rabbit. That... Well, he'd never been Jeremy, but when that son of a bitch called him Rabbit? Tell you what... that shirt fit, but good.