by A. E. Via
“Give me a shot of whisky old man, and none of that cheap shit you pour out to these guys.” Judge yelled when he came in.
Michaels looked around, more than a little stunned at Judge’s rudeness but even more so at the way the guys laughed it off. An older man that looked exactly like Judge except for the long gray ponytail braided down his back, shuffled from behind the bar. He was big, and surely intimidating at a time in his life, but now it looked like age had set in. His eyes were still hard and calculating just like Judges’. But he was slightly hunched over and had a hard time shuffling over to the end of the bar. Michaels came closer and watched the exchange as Judge hugged the man close to him, patting him gently on his back.
“Hey, Pop. How you feeling?” Judge’s entire demeanor was different. Caring, affectionate. It was attractive.
“I’m good, son. How’s the hunting game?”
“Same hunt, just a different jungle.” Judge said quietly. He waited while his father slowly reached behind the register, sliding a cabinet up and pulling out a half empty bottle of dark liquor. He set two shot glasses down on the bar and Michaels took that as his que to sit down.
“You still chewing that sugarcane, huh?” His father chuckled.
“It works, Pop. I haven’t had a single cigarette in four months. I think the craving is under control, now it’s just the habit.” Judge pulled the chewed stick from his mouth and tossed in the trash behind the bar.
“Who’s your young squire here? Did you finally let Duke talk you into using a partner?” His dad smiled genuinely, shakily filling up the glasses in front of him.
“He wishes I’d be his partner.” Michaels interjected swiftly. He reached out his hand. “I’m Detective Austin Michaels with the Atlanta PD Narcotics Task Force. Judge was contracted by my boss.”
“He didn’t ask all that.” Judge grumbled, shooting back his shot and slamming it down hard on the worn-wooden bar.
“I know, but I thought I’d volunteer it anyway.” Michaels retorted and slung his own drink back and slammed his glass down just as hard if not harder.
“Jesus. You are a pain in the ass.”
“I’m Judge Josephson, Sr., you may have to excuse JJ sometimes. His manners have left him, seeing that he’s alone all the time.” A look was exchanged between Judge and Judge, Sr. that Michaels was sure to be an inside thing.
“I’m actually growing quite fond of it, sir.” Michaels chuckled. “It’s nice to meet you though.”
“Likewise.” The older man laughed with him, pouring two more shots, splashing some of the liquid on the bar. He wiped it up, shaking his head and pulled out a glass for himself, pouring again.
“You sure you should be doing that, Pop? Where’s Linda?”
“Oh hush. You always were a tattletale.” Judge, Sr. winked at Michaels. “I’m gonna go anyway, I might as well go happy, right?”
“That’s stupid.” Judge growled at his father.
“Son. You gonna have to make your peace with this and soon.”
Michaels suddenly felt like he was witnessing something very personal and private. They’d brought in their bags so there must be some rooms on the upper levels but he didn’t’ want to ask and cut into the sad but intense stare off Judge and his father was having. He watched Judge Sr. tilt his glass back with a shaky left hand and slowly savor the smoothness of the aged whisky.
“I leave to the store for fifteen minutes and look ahere’.” A woman giggled from the front door.
Judge stopped staring down his father long enough to plaster on a smile before turning towards the lady. She dropped her two grocery bags and lunged herself into Judge’s arms, letting him spin her around like a school girl. When he finally set her petite frame down on the floor, she slapped at him playfully. “JJ, you know I’m too old to be swinging around like that.”
“You’re as old as you look. And you look beautiful Linda. This old geezer treating you right?” Judge picked up the bags and set them on the end of the bar while Linda ducked underneath it walking up to Judge Sr. and giving him a mock scowl.
“He treats me just fine, JJ. When he’s not sneaking.” Linda picked up Judge Sr.’s empty glass and put in the sink. “No more treats for you, if you want to try that new medication this week.”
Medication. Michaels wondered just how sick Judge’s father was. From the look on Linda and young Judge’s face, it must be serious. The detective in him immediately wanted to probe and ask questions, but this was none of his business.
“I can’t drink, I can’t smoke. You barely let me tend bar anymore, woman. I’m not in the mood for you and JJ to scold me today. I only get to see my boy once every couple months. Is it too much to have one celebratory drink with him?” Judge, Sr. grumbled walking away from both of them, heading up a set of stairs. He took them slowly, one at time.
“Pop.” Judge called out but Judge Sr. didn’t turn around.
“Oh, I’m sorry JJ. I shouldn’t have done that. He’s right.” Linda sighed sadly while unpacking the lemons and oranges she had in her bag. She laid them on a fresh cutting board and started cutting them up. “I have been hard on him lately. He’s getting restless, not being able to work shifts anymore. He wanted to hunt a couple weeks ago with the guys but the doctor forbade it. It’s getting real, JJ. His last test showed another clot in his -”
Judge came around the bar and pulled the sad woman to his chest when she couldn’t finish her sentence. It was heartbreaking and he’d only met Judge Sr. a few minutes ago.
“I’m gonna go up and talk to him. He’ll be fine, Linda. I promise.” Judge kissed the top of her head and she sighed a breath of relief.
“You couldn’t have come at better time sweetheart.” Linda eyes were watery but she held her tears in check. “Here. Take this.” She picked up two more glasses, winked, and handed the whisky to him.
It appeared Judge got the message. He kissed the short woman on her cheek and left Michaels sitting there alone with her. He turned and looked at the few patrons, wondering how this place stayed in the business. The bar’s mortgage was probably paid off, since Judge’s father was so old, but there was still some overhead.
“There’s a pretty good dinner crowd in the evenings and we’re packed on the weekends. It’s the locals, but it’s enough of them. Also since we’re right off the interstate and a quarter mile from a truck stop, we get quite a few haulers in here too. That’s why we have that big paved lot behind us. That’s all Judge Sr’s land.” She nodded proudly. “It’ll be full of tractor trailers on Saturday night.”
“That sounds cool.” Michaels said lamely. Ugh. He was still a little out of sorts from the conversation he’d heard.
She laughed at him, wiping her wrinkled hands on her apron. “I wonder what JJ will do with this place when -” She looked off at nothing as if in deep thought.
“It’s a real nice place. How’s the food?” Michaels cut in.
“Good if I may say so myself. I’m the cook.” She boasted, tossing the last of the fruit garnish into small containers. “We’ve hired quite a bit of help over the last year, but it’s still all my recipes. What can I get you?”
Michaels yanked the simple two page menu off one of the tables behind him and browsed through it quickly. Linda went and took a couple orders from the other men watching television. Michaels was not surprised to see seafood platters. Of course…Florida. There was burgers, wings, and other typical bar food. When she came back he told her, “I’ll have the crab cake sandwich and fries.”
“That’s JJ’s favorite.” She said. Her eyes twinkling. “Interesting you chose that one.”
“Coincidence, mam.” Michaels blushed.
“Mmmhmm.” She coed, walking into the back.
Chapter Fifteen
Judge had left his father’s and Linda’s one bedroom apartment on the third floor after his dad began to feel the effects of the two drinks and nodded off. Judge knew he needed the rest. He was in the basement now, working on the buste
d water heater that Linda had secretly called him about. His father was too stubborn to hire a handyman, instead trying to tinker with it himself. Before the old man could gripe about it, Judge had ordered a new one and had it shipped to them, now all he had to do was install it.
Judge had watched two different YouTube videos on soldering the pipes back together, now he was on the final stretch. He was bent over reading the manual when he heard someone walking down the stairs. He recognized the jean-clad muscular thighs before Michaels head finally came into view. Judge went back to reading, ignoring how Michaels was looking over his finished work.
“You need to put the Teflon tape on these pipes or else they could leak.” Michaels said, running his hand along the copper pipes.
Judge rolled his eyes scanning the manual again. What the hell was he talking about. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
“Never mind.”
“Good.”
Judge was just about finished. Last thing would be to fill it with water. He went back to the access panel and adjusted the temperature on the guage when Michaels spoke up again. “Is the water in there yet?”
“No. I’ll do that last.”
“Don’t turn on the heating element until the tank is full.”
“Augh. I’m following the directions Michaels.”
Michaels stepped in and closed his hand over Judges when he went to flick on the heater. His face was close to his and he got another whiff of the sweet, syrupy smell of his breath from that damn sugarcane. He tried to stop himself from wondering what that honeyed mouth tasted like. Heat could easily be felt through Judge’s thin black tank top and Michaels had to take a deep breath before he remembered what he was disputing… oh yeah, “You may think I’m being annoying, but I’m telling you the truth, my granddad did the same thing. The element fried because the water wasn’t in it first.”
Judge snatched his hand away. “Fine.”
“Why do you have to be such an ass? I was just trying to help.” Michaels put his palms up.
“I didn’t ask for any help.”
“No, but I could see you getting ready to make a big mistake so I just wanted -”
“I was not.” Judge growled. “Damnit, you really get off on your ‘I-must-be-right-at-all-times-superiority’ complex that you have, don’t you?”
Judge was standing chest to chest with the smug detective, not even sure how they’d gotten that close. His nostrils flared with anger, he didn’t know whether to smack the guy or fold his ass over and fuck him until he admitted he was wrong about anything. He saw Michaels jaw tick, like he wanted to keep arguing but had decided against it. But the fighter in him just couldn’t let it go.
He leaned in like he was going to kiss Judge but turned at the last minute, his two day old stubble, grazing roughly against his own beard. Judge inhaled a sharp breath not liking how Michaels was getting to him, into his psyche. Would he have let Michaels kiss him? All he knew is the man was too close, too hot, too sexy, too fucking annoying.
“For the record.” Michaels said against his jaw. “No. That’s not how I get off.”
Judge’s cock was hard at the dark sexiness dripping from Michaels tone. He watched that thick ass walk away and back up the stairs. He dropped his wrench to the ground and palmed his himself against his leathers. Damn him. He looked at his watch, it was almost eight.
“Stay Bookem.” Judge threw on his leather coat and got in his truck. He was going into the next town to get some fucking Teflon tape from Lowes.
********
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck, was I thinking! Was I about to kiss him? Shit! Michaels cursed himself back up the steps and into the bar. Did he want to get punched in the mouth? Can’t just go around seducing straight men. He posted back up at the counter and ordered another beer. There was two men behind it taking orders and two cooks in the back with Linda. They all came in at six and it seemed like an hour later, twenty plus hungry, overworked townspeople came in an hour later. There were two men playing pool, and a young couple dancing to a slow record that was playing on a jukebox in the other corner. Most of the people looked content with their dinners and the college football game playing on the television.
“Want another shot?” The taller of the two bartenders asked. Shit. Maybe that was why he was acting the way he was. He’d had four shots and three beers so far. Definitely getting close to his limit. What the hell? “Sure.”
“Looks like you’re trying to drown some problems.” Linda said, dropping off a plate of chili fries to the man sitting two seats down from him.
“No mam. Just relaxing.” Michaels lied.
“Mmmhmmm.”
Michaels watched her leave again on that same note. He rubbed his forehead, while the guys behind him cheered at the football game. It was getting close to nine. Maybe he’d just call it a night, he had a pretty good buzz going that he could probably sleep as soon as he showered and hit the bed. He went behind the bar ignoring the strange looks from the two bartenders. Pushing open the swinging door, Linda was cleaning up while two other woman filled the last of the orders before the kitchen closed at nine.
“Michaels, what are you doing back here? Did you want something else to eat, honey?”
“Um. No, mam. And you can call me Austin. Only the guys I work with call me by my last name.” He smiled. Linda was sweet. She reminded him of his late grandmother, just as loving and kind as his mom. It was clear she wasn’t Judge’s mother but he could see the adoration in his eyes for her.
She wiped her hands on her apron and gently patted his cheek. “I’d like that. Austin it is. Now, are you hungry?”
“No. I think I’m gonna go on and go to sleep. I think Judge said we were staying here. Do you guys have enough room?”
“Oh, of course. Judge’s room is on the second floor on the right and there’s a guest room on the left, bathroom is at the end of the hall, there’s fresh linen. You’ll have to ignore the mess in Judge’s room, he’s not the neatest and he forbade me to go in there and clean.”
Michaels frowned. Why would he be staying in Judge’s room? “If it’s okay, I’ll just stay in the guest room.”
She looked like that was an absurd suggestion.
Is she saying that Judge is… “Linda, is Ju -” before he could finish there was a loud crash and angry voices penetrating his hazy mind. Michaels quickly dropped what he was about to say and rushed into the main room. Two men were squaring off, while others scrambled to get out of their way. The shoving started up before Michaels could get around the bar. One of the guys fell over a chair, hitting the hard wood floor with angry crash. His face was beet red as he worked his way up to retaliate. Michaels jumped in between the two men. “Alright, knock it off, or take it outside!” He barked in his commanding voice.
The one that had fallen pushed his chest into Michaels’ hand, still seething. “You piece of shit it’s a football game. We’re just having some fun.”
“Real fucking funny asshole!” the other guy yelled back.
Michaels didn’t know what the fight was about, he didn’t care. But he wasn’t going to let these drunk fools trash Judge Sr’s place.
“Hey! I don’t care. Just shut up and sit down. Or leave.” Michaels looked them both in the eye.
“Who the hell are you? You can’t throw me out.” The shorter one argued.
“No. But I can.” Judge Sr. said with a weary voice. He looked tired, like the ruckus had woke him. He was leaning heavily on a cane as he peered down at them from the upstairs railing.
“Go on back in your room old man, I’m not about to -”
Before the guy could utter another word Michaels reared back and drove his right fist into that disrespectful bastard’s mouth. It hurt like a sonofabitch, since his knuckles were still swollen from earlier. But the adrenaline and liquor coursing through his veins allowed him to block it out. The guy staggered back into the wall, bending over to spit out the blood pooling in his mouth. There were loud gasp and curses
from the onlookers as Michaels shook out his fist. “Have some respect.” He hissed at the man.
The guy looked him up and down like he was debating on if should do more and Michaels quickly made his mind up for him. “Outside.” Michaels growled.
The guy yanked his jacket and keys off a table and headed out the door with Michaels hot on his heels. He heard Linda before he got to the door. “Austin, please don’t.”
He smiled curtly, trying to show he had everything under control. “It’s okay, Linda. I’m just gonna make sure he leaves. Stay inside, please.” He added politely and left out the door.
The guy had rolled up the sleeves of his flannel shirt like he was getting ready to do some damage to him. Michaels wanted to laugh. This was going to be cathartic. Work, Justin, his dad, his bosses, and Judge had been slowly driving him insane this week. He needed to release all this pent up anger, disappointment… and loneliness. He wouldn’t put the guy in the hospital, he’d just teach him a quick lesson is all. Three hits max… and maybe a kick or two. Several of the bystanders had already driven away not wanting to witness anything, but a few of the guys who enjoyed a good blood sport stayed back for the main event.
“You don’t want none of me.” The guy snarled cracking his knuckles.
“Oh but I do.” Michaels grinned back.
The two men met in the middle and Michaels played around with him first to feel him out. This guy wasn’t a lightweight either. He must’ve been a trucker because he had thick thighs and strong forearms. Michaels dodged a sloppy right but the left uppercut caught him in the corner of his chin. He blamed that on the alcohol or else he would’ve dodged that blow too. Michaels threw a backhand with his right and drew his left back ready to clean this guy’s clock when his arm was hooked by a thick forearm. He looked back to curse whoever the muscle was that intervened and came eye to eye with Judge’s angry charcoal glare.