Crossfire

by James P. Sumner

  Before turning in for the evening, they decided to get a couple of drinks, relax, and soak up a little of the local atmosphere. A lot of what they did relied on instinct, and it helped to have a good understanding of the environment.

  The sports bar was only one block over from the restaurant, and when they arrived, it hadn’t looked too busy. However, a half-hour later, once the baseball game had started, the place was bulging at the seams.

  Jericho felt claustrophobic, yet again confined to a space not suited to his huge frame. He struggled to lift his arm as he drank and shifted his weight restlessly back and forth on each leg in an effort to find a comfortable position.

  He leaned forward, turning to his colleague. “I’m sorry about before, Jules.”

  She was staring blankly at the surface of the table but looked at him as he spoke, frowning. “For what?”

  “You know… for everything at Hyatt’s office. With the secretary…”

  She smiled, waving a hand dismissively before returning her gaze to the table. “Forget about it. I was being silly.”

  He shook his head slightly to himself, momentarily stunned by her apparent change in attitude. He never pretended to understand what went on inside a woman’s head, but he wasn’t about to question it.

  He nodded. “Okay, it’s forgotten. So, how are you feeling about tomorrow?”

  She shrugged. “Normal, I guess. It’s a job like any other, right? I mentioned your concern about gaps in Hyatt’s security and potential surveillance to Buchanan. He’s going to send a couple of guys over tomorrow to give the entire floor of Hyatt’s office building a once-over. Same with his hotel room.”

  “I think that’s a smart move. His client’s enemies found out about his business, his daughter, and us. If he has a leak, I’d rather we plug it before we step between him and any flying bullets.”

  Julie nodded. “I agree. As for Hyatt, I feel better now that I’ve seen the layout for the docks. I reckon he’s safe for now. It’ll be when the money’s being loaded onto the ship that we’ll struggle.”

  “Yeah, I was thinking the same thing. At least we only need worry about him. His client and their people can worry about everything else.”

  Julie slammed her palm down on the table and gestured to the large screen with her bottle. “Oh, come on! He wasn’t out! Who’s that official? Stevie Wonder?”

  Jericho laughed with disbelief. “Since when are you a baseball fan?”

  She smiled. “Since always. I’ve got my three older brothers to thank for it. They used to take me to games when I was young. I got a passion for it early on in life, and it’s stayed with me.”

  Jericho took a swig from his bottle. “Well, I never knew that about you.”

  She winked. “I could write a book on the things you don’t know about me, big guy.”

  They smiled, holding each other’s gaze for a moment before taking another sip of their drinks. A loud cheer erupted through the bar, and they both looked over at the screen to see the replay of a home run.

  “Who’s, ah… who’s playing anyway?” asked Jericho.

  Julie looked at him and smiled. “Now I know you don’t care!”

  He shrugged. “Just… showing an interest, that’s all.”

  “Okay. The Blue Jays are hosting the Braves. They’re up four-nothing, and that was their third homer of the game. It’s bottom of the fourth, and the local boys are looking good.”

  Jericho emptied his bottle and smiled. “That’s… wow, that’s great. Gotta love them homers, am I right?”

  Julie stared at him, her lip curled in bemusement. “You didn’t understand a word I just said, did you?”

  “Well, I… I mean, obviously…” Jericho sighed. “No, I didn’t. You might as well have been speaking Japanese.”

  Julie laughed, reached up, and patted him playfully on the cheek. “Never mind, big guy.”

  “Hey, don’t pity me, woman! I was a military brat. I spent my youth traveling the world, learning how to fight. I didn’t have time to watch grown men play catch in their pajamas, all right?”

  She chuckled again. “Okay, you keep telling yourself that.”

  A waitress approached the table, carrying a large tray half-covered with empties precariously in one hand. She was young, attractive, small in stature, and looked very tired. Jericho noted the size of the tray and thought how impressive it was she could carry it one-handed while navigating the huge crowd.

  “Can I get you folks another round?” she asked, collecting their bottles.

  “I’ll have a beer, thanks,” said Julie before gesturing to Jericho with her thumb. “And get my lady friend here a white wine spritzer, with one of those little umbrellas in it, would you?”

  Jericho rolled his eyes at her before smiling apologetically at the waitress. “Forgive my colleague. She can’t handle her drink. After one bottle, she thinks she’s a stand-up comedian. I’ll just have a beer. Thanks.”

  The waitress laughed. “Coming right up.”

  Jericho made way for her to pass, then turned to Julie. “Very funny.”

  She stuck her tongue out. “Well, that’s what you get.”

  “For what?”

  “For—”

  Before she could answer, there was a loud noise behind them. They both looked around to see the waitress knelt down, surrounded by half a tray’s worth of broken glass that was scattered across the floor. Just to the side of her, three guys were standing in a line. One of them had a large wet patch on his leg, and the other two were laughing.

  The one with the wet leg leaned forward, bending over to speak to the waitress. “Watch where you’re going, you stupid bitch!”

  Still crouching, the waitress looked up at the man, tears welling in her eyes. “I’m… I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to—”

  “I don’t care what you didn’t mean to do,” he continued, pointing to his leg. “These are expensive pants, and you’ve just ruined them.”

  She stood and took a small step away, holding her hands out. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t see you. Let me get you—”

  “Get me what? A free drink? Not good enough! You owe me a new pair of pants. These were a hundred and ten dollars. I bet you can’t even afford that on your crappy wage, can you?”

  Despite the lack of room, the crowd had moved to give the scene a wide berth, leaving the waitress and the three men in a spacious circle. The loud rabble of conversation had stopped, and only the commentary coming from the TV broke the silence. No one said anything, apart from a few whispers. Most just stood watching, while a few fumbled in their pockets for their cell phone, undoubtedly wanting to document the drama for social media.

  “I’ll tell you what,” said the man. “How about you make it up to me another way?”

  The waitress frowned. “W-what do you mean?”

  “I mean, how’s about we head out back, and you can get me out of these pants… give them a rub dry for me?”

  He turned to look at his two friends, who were still laughing.

  The waitress took another step back. “I… I’m sorry about your drink, okay? Let me get you another one, on the house.”

  The man took a step forward and grabbed her wrist. “What did I just say, bitch?”

  Jericho took a deep breath, sensing the rush of anger erupting inside of him. He flexed his shoulders and tensed every inch of his body, fighting to control the flash of fury. He looked on, giving the man every opportunity to let go of the waitress, to back down and apologize.

  But he didn’t.

  Beside him, Julie noticed the sudden change in his body language and, knowing from experience exactly what it meant, placed her hand on his arm. “Jericho, don’t get involved.”

  He ignored her, staring intently at the scene, his jaw muscles clenching repeatedly.

  The man started to drag the waitress toward him, pulling her over the broken glass. She screamed, struggling against his grip to get free, but it was futile.

  “Let g
o of me!” she yelled.

  The man’s friends had stopped laughing, instead turning their attention to the crowd of onlookers, staring challengingly at the two male bar staff who had come to see what was happening.

  “Come on, bitch,” replied the man as he pulled her toward him. “Quit playing hard to get. You owe me!”

  Julie watched for a moment before letting go of Jericho’s arm and gesturing exasperatedly. “Y’know what? Knock yourself out. That asshole deserves it.”

  Without a word, Jericho stood, cracked his neck and strode with bad intentions toward the scene. Julie looked on and let out a heavy sigh, knowing all too well what was about to happen.

  “I gave you every chance…” she muttered.

  Jericho stepped into the circle, and the man snapped his head left to stare at him, wavering momentarily as he processed the size of him. Then he glanced over his shoulder at his friends, who instinctively moved to his side. He looked back at Jericho, laughing.

  “This ain’t nothing to do with you, asshole,” he said. “Walk away.”

  Jericho shrugged. “Let her go, and I will.”

  The man frowned. “Who are you, her granddaddy? Get the hell out of here before you get hurt.”

  Julie placed her head in her hand.

  “Ah, crap. Why did you have to go and say something stupid?” she said to herself, frustrated by the man’s apparent lack of intelligence.

  “Last warning,” continued Jericho, taking a small step toward the men. “Let… her… go.”

  The man held his gaze for a few tense moments before shoving the waitress to the floor. “Whatever, asshole. She should’ve been more careful. Besides, I was just having a little fun. I guess now I’ll have to have some fun with you.”

  Julie pushed her way into the circle, ignoring everyone there, and headed straight for the waitress. She leaned forward and helped her to her feet.

  “What’s your name, sweetie?” she asked.

  The waitress sniffed back tears. “Evie.”

  “Okay, Evie, you’re gonna want to come with me.”

  “W-why? What’s going to happen?”

  Julie walked her back over to their table, making brief eye contact with Jericho as they passed. Once they were safely away from the scene, she replied, “Those douchebags are about to have a very bad night, and you don’t wanna get caught in the middle of it. Trust me.”

  Jericho’s unblinking gaze stayed transfixed on the man and his friends. In his peripheral vision, he saw Julie move the waitress out of harm’s way. He took another step forward, moving to the center of the circle, ignoring the shards of glass that crunched underfoot.

  The man looked at his friends and laughed as he gestured at Jericho. “Who does this guy think he is? I bet he just wants that piece of ass for himself!”

  Jericho stared at him. “I’m the man you think you are. Now you owe that young woman an apology, and you’re not leaving until she gets one.”

  The man scoffed. “Is that right? Well, listen, tough guy, the way I see it, she should be apologizing to me. I’m the one with a wet leg.”

  “Better wet than broken.”

  “What did you say?”

  “You heard me.”

  The man chuckled. “No, I don’t think I did. Say it again for me and my friends here because it sounded like a threat. Are you threatening me, asshole?”

  Jericho took a deep, impatient breath. “Okay, look. Clearly, I’m talking to an idiot. I didn’t realize, and that’s on me, so I tell you what I’ll do. I’ll speak a little slower and use smaller words that you’ll understand, all right?”

  The man clenched his fists, seething through his gritted teeth.

  Jericho continued. “You need to say sorry to that young woman for hurting her. You do that, and maybe you don’t end up like all this glass…”

  He shook his head, his anger giving way to confusion. “What does that even mean?”

  “…spread across the floor in pieces.”

  “Would you listen to yourself? There are three of us, man. And you think I’m an idiot?”

  “Yeah, I do. I’m also surprised you can count to three.”

  The man’s expression changed again, from confusion to impatience. He glared through wide eyes, breathing hard. “You think you’re funny? Let’s see how funny you are when you’re dead, asshole!”

  He reached behind him and produced a switchblade. The blade was clean, thin, maybe seven inches long. His friends postured up on either side of him, as if drawing confidence from the weapon.

  Jericho looked at each of them in turn. They all appeared to be capable guys—on the surface, at least. They were smaller than him but still big men. All at least six foot, all maybe weighing around two-twenty. None of them were star athletes, but they each packed more muscle than fat. Given how they had been acting so far, he figured they were no strangers to bar fights. Probably no strangers to winning them either. But they were amateurs at best. The guy with the knife was holding it as if he were using it to eat a meal.

  Jericho thought back to his military training. He was always told if someone pulled a blade during a fight, don’t worry about it if you can see it. If they’re waving it around, trying to look intimidating, it’s too easy to take it off them. They simply don’t know what they’re doing. The dangerous people are the ones who hide it, usually by gripping the handle and holding the knife upside-down, so the blade is pressed against the inside of the forearm. You wouldn’t see it coming until it was sticking out of you.

  Jericho stood his ground, silently inviting them to make a move. He knew he couldn’t instigate anything, but he wasn’t going to back down now. The waitress wasn’t about to get a voluntary apology, which meant the situation was only going to end one way.

  The man with the knife snarled, took a step toward him, and lunged the blade forward violently. Jericho had a considerable reach advantage and threw a straight right fist with deadly precision. It connected with the man’s nose, causing it to break and bleed long before the knife could pose a problem. His eyes watered, and Jericho quickly grabbed his wrist, twisting it counter-clockwise, forcing the man to drop the knife. He slid it away behind him with his foot and threw another strong punch to the guy’s sternum. It knocked the air from his lungs and sent him crashing to the floor.

  He took a step back, anticipating retaliation from one of the remaining two men. He figured one of them would be smart enough to know a lost cause when they saw one, but it would probably take one more body to convince him.

  It was the one to his left who made the move.

  He came forward quickly, winding up a haymaker that Jericho telegraphed with ease. He side-stepped, allowing the man’s own momentum to carry him forward. As he drew level, Jericho snapped his torso clockwise, delivering an elbow to the man’s jaw. The impact was dull and heavy, and he felt bone give way beneath it. The man dropped like a stone, landing face-first on the glass. Jericho glanced down and saw his cheek had been shattered.

  He looked at the last man, who was rooted to the spot, eyes were wide with fear and sweat beaded on his brow.

  “Why don’t you speak on behalf of your friends?” asked Jericho, gesturing over to his table, where the waitress was looking on, dumbfounded.

  The remaining guy nodded hurriedly and looked over at her. “S-s-sorry, lady.”

  Jericho smiled. “There. That wasn’t too bad, was it?” He pointed at the two men on the floor. “Now get these sorry sonsofbitches outta here. They’re making the place look untidy.”

  He moved quickly to his friends but, seeing they were both unconscious, left them where they were and bolted for the exit.

  Jericho walked back to his table, taking an exaggerated step over the men on the floor. Julie regarded him. “You feel better now?”

  He nodded. “I always do after doing the right thing.” He looked at the waitress. “You all right?”

  She nodded, rubbing her wrist. “I’m fine. Thank you. But you really didn’t hav
e to do that. We get jerks like that in here all the time. You get used to it, y’know?”

  Julie placed a hand on her arm. “Sweetie, that’s not something you should ever have to get used to. Hopefully, my friend has deterred anyone else from thinking about putting their hands on you.”

  Evie smiled at them both in turn before making her way back over to the bar. The crowd closed the circle again, and everyone turned their attention back to the big screen.

  Jericho leaned forward, resting his crossed arms on the table. Julie did the same beside him. After a few minutes of silence, she said, “So, you wanna call it a night? Or would you like to break a few more faces before bedtime?”

  Jericho looked over at her and smiled. “No, I’m good.”

  She stood to her full height, which was still smaller than Jericho, despite him leaning over. “Come on, you gigantic, hot-tempered, lovable gentleman. We’ve got an early start in the morning.”

  He nodded, stood up, and held his arm out for her to link. She took it with a smile, and the two of them headed for the door. The crowd parted respectfully for them, and they were soon outside, appreciating the evening’s cold temperature for the first time since they arrived.

  Julie lay on her bed, staring at the solitary crack in the ceiling. There was almost total silence in the spacious room. She was high enough in the building that any noise from the street below was minimal at best. She could hear Jericho snoring in the next room, but that wasn’t why she was still awake. She glanced at the clock on the bedside table next to her. It was turned two a.m. She sighed and rolled over on her front, burying her face in the pillow. She was wide-eyed and alert, her brain still wired, thinking about the new detail she would be starting in a few hours. It was the same every time.

  She pushed herself up and reached for her phone, which was plugged in beside her, charging. She sat on the bed, her legs crossed, and selected a contact from her list to begin dialing. It rang out. Ten seconds. Fifteen. She was about to give up and then it was answered.