by Devon Ashley
I saw his head turn my way out the corner of my eye, felt the way my hairs stood on end. I took a second to glance at him before returning my attention to the road. I thought that would get to him.
“I don’t fucking care how the bitch died. Not fast enough, if you ask me. She can go fuck herself in that grave of hers.”
“She was the last relative you had, right? I mean, if what you’re saying is true about not being able to father a kid.”
His body angled against the door to face me head on. “Are you calling me a liar?”
My left arm was bent up on the door lift, supporting my head, so my right hand went up in the air in a shrugging manner. “I’m just saying. Being all alone in the world now, I would think you would find some comfort in knowing that there might be someone out there still related to you. Why the hell would you want to push that away?”
“That kid ain’t fucking mine,” he spat. “And what do you know about it anyway? Maybe I should ask if you’re the liar in this truck.”
“Right,” I mocked. “Make it about me. In case you haven’t noticed, I’m the only one helping you here. There’s not one fucking other person in this world who gives a shit about you right now. And you know what? I think it’s justly earned. You are a real piece of shit these days.”
He just stared at me for a few seconds. “Fuck you.”
“No, fuck you,” I snapped back. Annoyed, I stopped glaring his way and just focused on getting back to Matt’s so I could lock myself away in my room.
“So how’d it go?” Karen asked with a look of concern.
I pulled my denim jacket off and draped it over one of the kitchen chairs. Miserably, I answered, “I don’t think Shane will be bugging us anymore.”
“So you told him the truth then?”
I grabbed the coffee I was drinking earlier and put it in the microwave to reheat. “Parts of it. Enough, I hope.”
I groaned and fell into the chair, letting my forehead meet the table. My arms wrapped around my head, suffocating me with a sweet black hole. Karen sighed beside me and gently rubbed my upper back with the tips of her fingers. “I’m sorry. I know it hurts that he’s the one doing this.”
“It’s not his fault.” My voice echoed inside my protective bubble. I heard the microwave go off and Karen grabbed my mug and placed it before me, taking up the chair beside me. I braved the world again, my head hitched up on one elbow, facing her while I took a sip of my coffee. “He wasn’t the one who got me pregnant and bailed. From everything that’s happened, I don’t think Brad’s been very honest with him either. Shane’s just stuck in the middle. He thinks he’s protecting his best friend. I can hardly fault him for being loyal.”
“Too bad Brad seems to be playing him.”
“Yeah, I think he is too for some reason. Still, like I said. Shane’s loyal, and he won’t stop being loyal until he realizes Brad is fucking him over.” After a moment, I added, “And he needs to come to that conclusion all on his own.”
“So how long is Brad in town?”
Swaying my head slowly, I replied, “I don’t know. I just hope he doesn’t come looking for us. I’m unlisted, so that helps, but all he has to do is find one person who knows where I live or work and is willing to tell him. Amber would rat my ass out in a heartbeat. No payment required.”
“I can stay a few more days if you need me.”
I cracked a smile. Karen would jump the moon if I asked, and I loved her dearly for it. But she had her own guy to take care of. “No, that’s alright. Go home today. I’m sure Kevin would appreciate you being there when he comes home tonight.”
“What about Jake? Kevin can take care of himself just fine.”
“Jake will be all right. When he’s not with me he’ll be next door with Susie or Mrs. Weatherly. He’s safer there anyway. I’ll just tell them to make sure Jake doesn’t go out front the next few days. There’s a front coming in tonight so it’ll be too rainy for him to play outside anyway.”
She reached out and squeezed my wrist. “Promise you’ll call if you need me?”
Smiling sweetly, I said, “Don’t I always? You’re my go-to girl.”
Today was the longest day ever, and not in a way that would fill the memory bank with moments to make me smile. Karen headed home after lunch, giving Jake and me a few hours to hang out before my four o’clock shift. I reminded him about that 9-1-1 conversation we had a while back, and how not to talk to strangers when the adult watching over him wasn’t around.
I just couldn’t shake this feeling that something bad was coming. And just like that damn song Shane had me dance to that night, a bad moon was arising. I’d be damned if Jake didn’t know what to do if something happened. But he was an intuitive little guy, asking me afterwards if something was wrong. I smiled and told him no, and that I just wanted to make sure he remembered in case something bad ever did happen.
At a quarter to four, I checked the street for anything unfamiliar. Finding nothing out of the ordinary, I walked him over to Susie’s before leaving for work. Even though I knew he was safe, I couldn’t help but worry all day long, the hours dragging out relentlessly. If anything ever happened to him…I’m not sure what I would do. I’d kill for him, and that scared me, because right now, the only person out there that truly scared me was a guy I used to love. Who drank too much the last I saw.
But despite everything that had happened lately, I trusted Shane. Even though he was mad at me for things he didn’t understand, I felt like he was somehow protecting me. He’d made it abundantly clear that he was angry with me, yet I didn’t think he told Brad about me, because he hadn’t come after me yet.
I didn’t understand why and I was too afraid to ask.
I tried not to look at the clock too often. It took about a hundred glances for it to near two. A young couple just left, leaving only Joey to linger until closing. Like always. Ever since he lost his wife to a heart attack a year ago, the poor guy just didn’t like to stay home alone. Every night he came here, had dinner and stretched his two beers through the course of the night, just sitting there watching television, occasionally speaking with a few people he knew.
Would that be me right now if I didn’t have Jake? Gawd, I could hardly remember my life without him at this point. He was my whole world now, my reason to get up in the morning and stand behind a bar all night to keep his tummy full, his body covered in superhero pajamas and a roof over his head. If I didn’t have him to do this for, I wasn’t sure what the hell I’d be doing right now.
At five till midnight, I heard the barstool screech across the hardwood floor.
“Night, Joey,” I said, and like always, he tipped his hat as he walked out. I finished wiping down the bar, then threw the rag into the dirty glass bucket. My damp hand slipped on the plastic handle and the bucket and its contents went crashing to the ground. Broken glass scattered across the pocketed rubber mat, glistening like tiny rain drops.
I groaned and picked up the bigger pieces, then returned the bucket to the bar. Next, I peeled the rubber up by its corner and dragged it back, uncovering the ceramic tile beneath. I went to the kitchen to grab the broom and dustpan, and began clearing the floor. I was bent down scooping up the glass when I heard the familiar click of the door.
Rolling my eyes, I snapped, “Damn it, Shane. Go away already!”
I stood up, ready to continue giving him a piece of my mind, but stopped short. That wasn’t Shane.
My heart skipped into overdrive as he neared the same spot Shane always took up. “We’re closed.” Damn my voice for shaking. And why the hell wasn’t Shane with him?
“That’s alright,” Brad said. Pulling a beat up flask from his jacket pocket, he added, “I brought my own.” The movement flicked some water off his jacket. Judging by the dampness of his entire body, the beginning of the front must’ve just gotten here.
“Well, you’re not allowed to bring your own, so go drink it outside,” I managed to say with a firm voice.
<
br /> Gawd, he looked like crap. His skin was pale and sallow, that high school muscular structure long lost. The last time I saw him he was already dependent on alcohol and a little bit on the weed, but it seemed he had graduated to the harder stuff. It certainly wasn’t beer inside that flask, and judging by the inflamed nostrils, he’d taken to snorting something.
And he wasn’t someone I wanted to be alone with anymore.
“I can wait a few minutes,” he smirked, returning the flask to his jacket.
“Why the hell isn’t Shane with you?” Dumbass new this one needed a babysitter. He couldn’t walk ten feet in straight path.
“Well, he’s too busy fucking that Amber bitch right now,” he said coldly. “Screaming was so damn loud I decided to step out for a bit.”
If he said it to cut me, he did a good job, because I was sure my face gave something away. Why the hell did I even care? He could screw whoever he liked. My delusion of us ever having a chance was barely a blip on the radar anymore.
His eyes narrowed at me in a way that chilled me to my bones. “And why does everyone have to make it all about Shane?” he retorted, some of his words lagging, like his tongue couldn’t keep up with the outburst he wanted. “It was all I ever heard about growing up. He had the better parents, the better grades, got more attention from the scouts. He fucking got everything.” He pointed his finger at me, but it bobbed up and down because he couldn’t hold it still. “But you know what? You.”
My face soured as my neck pulled back a few inches. Something about the aggravating way he spat you made me want to plan my exit strategy.
He continued to bounce his finger, like he forgot all about it, eyes intent on mine. “I heard him talking about you in the locker room that day. How he wanted to ask out the new girl. That’s why I went looking for you. And you know what? For once I had something he wanted! And I made sure to rub it in his face every fucking day!”
Great. As if I didn’t already think he was an ass. Now I knew he was one even when I was happy to be his girl. “What do you want?” I asked rudely, wishing a little more that Shane and I were getting along. He’d probably be here right now if we were.
He leaned over the bar and stared me down with those red-rimmed, puffy eyes. His eyes used to be a stunning shade of blue, bright and kind, but now they just seemed dark and cold. “Well, for starters, I’d love for my girl to not want to fuck my best friend.”
“I’m not your girl,” I said without thinking. The last thing I needed to do was egg him on.
“Not even going to deny it, are you?” he snarled. “That you want to spread your legs for him like every other fucking cunt in this town?”
My mouth finally got with the program and didn’t respond.
“Fuck it. I’m used to it.” Very slowly, he added, “What I really want from you is my money.”
I inhaled a long breath, trying to calm my insides. I didn’t like how my teeth were trying to shake, how my legs were wanting to buckle beneath me. This wasn’t the same guy I fell in love with once, the one who always made me feel safe. If anything, the opposite was true now.
But I wouldn’t be bullied by a drunk with zero ambition. I didn’t give a shit if he became too damn lazy over the years. He had to have known the money his parents left him would run out eventually. I was just surprised he burned through it this quickly. I thought I had ten years easy. Guess I never factored in an expensive drug addiction.
“You know damn well that your grandmother left it to Jake on purpose. You have no right to ask for it, nor am I willing to share. Not with you.”
I jumped out of my skin when he slammed his hand on the bar top. “That is not my son!” he yelled, slurring the S in son, blood flushing his face as his eyes bulged out, the right one twitching.
I instinctively took a step back. He never used to be this angry before, despite the number of beers he’d put away. Still, I wasn’t going to let that stupid prick try to bully me out of Jake’s money – at least what was left of it. “That’s bullshit and you know it! You were just a fucking coward. I’ll bet you didn’t even take that paternity test, did you?”
Hands flattened on the bar, he leaned forward. “I didn’t come here for no fucking test. I came for my damn money, Melanie!”
I already knew this wasn’t going to end well. I had been debating in my mind the best course of action for getting the hell out of here. Running past him and out the front door certainly didn’t seem a viable option. There was still the back door, but Marcus always fastened the security bar before he left at eleven, so it would take me crucial time to unlock it first. There was also the emergency exit off by the jukebox, but it was evenly split between the two of us, maybe a few feet in his favor. If I didn’t outrun him, he’d have me.
“You’re too late. The money’s already spent,” I explained, grabbing the nearest bottle of liquor and holding it out between us. “Now get out. You have a problem with how things went down? Try to sue me. Then your sorry ass will have to take that paternity test.” Then the fucker would owe me money for all the years he bailed on child support.
“What do you think you’re going to do with that, huh?” he asked humorously.
I gritted my teeth and slammed the bottle against the edge of the bar. Brown glass and amber liquid flew through the air. But half the bottle remained in my hand, and his eyes widened at the jagged shards remaining, ready to pierce his sickening skin. I got some satisfaction from his moment of fear. Sully had always preferred women working the bar, but he didn’t want to train us to use a gun. Not when there was a bar full of weapons right here, he said. He trained each and every one of us with empty bottles on how to properly hit it so it didn’t just shatter into useless glass. I was never more grateful as Brad began to take me a little more seriously.
Unfortunately, respect only went so far with a drunk, who thought he could easily leap the tallest of buildings. I could literally see the change in his eyes when he decided he could still swat me down. “Get the fuck out,” I threatened.
“I will.” But slowly, he added, “Once I take what’s mine.”
He was surprisingly quick for someone so saturated with alcohol, probably one of those damn functioning drunks. Unfortunately, being able to fashion a weapon didn’t make me ready to use it on a human being, even one that pissed me off as much as Brad. I just didn’t have it in me to stab him. But I did find the courage to swing for his head as he leapt over the bar.
I never was any good at baseball, no matter how many times Brad showed me how to swing a bat. And I think he remembered that. Part of the bottle did hit his head, but mostly his neck, and all I ended up doing was pissing him off even more. He yelled as he smashed into me, and I stumbled backwards against his weight, my feet tripping over that damn rubber mat that I folded over. We went crashing onto the floor, his body atop mine. As we hit, we both screamed out. My forearms were suddenly burning, particularly my left, fire ripping through the skin.
A chunk of the bottle I broke protruded halfway up my forearm. I ripped it free and screamed again, blood steadily drizzling down. I knew I only had a few seconds before Brad’s attention focused from his cut palms back onto me again. On the floor to my right were a few extra bottles of our most popular liquors. I grabbed one and aimed for his head before he could see what I was doing. No hesitation this time. I just swung with all my might.
It thunked against the side of his head. He groaned miserably and rolled sideways with the momentum, his bloody hands moving to cradle his head. I untangled my legs with his and awkwardly scooched backwards. My body protested getting to my feet, like the impact between us hurt more than my mind had caught onto yet. I gripped the gash on my arm, but blood began seeping through my fingers.
Brad stirred and groaned on the floor. I didn’t risk running to the back for my keys, I just hightailed it out of there, setting off the alarm as I shoved myself through the emergency exit. The police department was just three blocks away. I could make it.
The cool night air stung the cuts on my skin and the tears in my eyes. It was raining, but the light pace of their pitter patter was quickening, the drops becoming heavier as they nailed me from above. After a single block, I couldn’t bear running in my heels anymore and kicked them to the curb. I just left them there and kept on running, the length of my boot cut jeans getting caught between my heel and the concrete with each step, saturating the fabric that made a sticking noise every time I peeled my foot from the ground. It should’ve only taken me a minute or two to run to the station, but even with the adrenaline pumping, it seemed like forever.
My body slammed into their front door, my bare feet refusing to slow down. I stumbled inside the small police station, and I must’ve looked a horrible sight, because the single cop and dispatcher both looked up at me and froze in shock. Guess they weren’t used to dealing with actual emergencies that much, because it took a few seconds to take in my drenched and bloodied appearance before they snapped into action.
Out of breath from my sprint, I got out two words, Sully’s and robber. I didn’t know either of these people, so mentioning I knew the robber wasn’t going to help right now. But that was all the explanation the officer needed and he took off, leaving the dispatcher to call me an EMS and wake whoever was on call to aid in the robbery. Marisa, her nametag said, sat me down and found a fresh towel to wrap around my wound. She even took over keeping pressure on the cut, so I was finally able to calm myself from the high.
What the hell was that moron thinking? Showing up and trying to attack me? Rob me? For all I knew he did. I didn’t have the stomach to keep on hitting him to really knock him out. We were both hurt, but he was still a lot stronger than me. I had a son to think about. Sticking around and attacking his father, who apparently didn’t mind turning the aggressor on me, didn’t seem like the smartest thing to do. I didn’t even know how to throw a punch, let alone take one.
Ten minutes later, Sheriff Litskin came through the front. It looked like he dressed in yesterday’s wrinkled clothing and his hair was askew, a mixture of rain and bed-head. “Melanie?” he asked, taking in the red-soaked towel beside me. EMS had beaten him by two minutes and already the guy was wrapping my arm tightly, saying I needed to go in and get a few stitches. Awesome. That was so not what I wanted to spend my money on. I was half tempted to tell him to pass me the krazy glue and go home. But no way would Sully let me get away with that since it happened at work. Hopefully, he’d be able to help me pay for it, because I could really only afford healthcare for one of us, and that honor went to Jake.