Jordan

by Lindsey Hart

  “Does that matter in Vegas? They look like they’re still open.” She wanted nothing more than to head back to the bus, but she couldn’t back down after she’d started. How do I always get myself into these situations?

  Jordan finally nodded. Effie wished he’d protested, that he’d said the place looked like a grungy dive and there was no way he was going in there.

  Her hopes sank as he squared his shoulders and took the lead. Maybe I should have just let him kiss me. She started walking, stashing the gin bottle behind a tree on the sidewalk. Merry Christmas to whoever finds it.

  Effie’s suspicions were confirmed the second they stepped foot inside. The place had a DJ spinning music, or what she supposed could pass for it. The sound was horrible, screeching, sharp and far too loud. The floors were so sticky her black flats actually stopped in place and she had to force her foot forward. There was a disgusting, old looking bar at the back of the club, a small beat up dance floor and dubious looking booths along the side of the wall. Effie shuddered to think what kind of debauchery went on in the privacy of those nasty vinyl seats.

  Jordan turned, brow raised in question. She shrugged, finally, as if to apologize for the whole stupid thing.

  Would it have been so bad to give him one kiss? It was easy for her to admit he was attractive. Any woman with eyes probably thought so. It was the not so subtle feeling underneath what should have just been physical attraction that she couldn’t deal with.

  I’m going to find the washroom. He mouthed the words, somehow intrinsically sensing that she could read lips as well as she knew ASL.

  “Alright.” She cringed when Jordan turned and left her. She couldn’t imagine finding, let alone using the washroom in a place like this. She hoped he was just saying that to get away from her and the awkward humiliation the night was turning into.

  Almost as soon as Jordan walked off, Effie wished him back. The pulsing horrible music ripped through her foggy brain, killing her head, inducing a premature hangover. She felt lost and alone standing in the bar all by herself, the blue-black darkness punctuated by a thin track light overhead here and there, rising up to choke her.

  “Hey baby. You lost?”

  The voice, seedy and heavily accented, came from behind her and Effie whirled in time to see two guys who she could only classify as redneck in the worst sense of the word, approaching fast. Her eyes flew over the club, trying to find an exit. She could have just walked out the way she’d come, but she didn’t want to leave Jordan. She had an image of him coming out of the bathrooms and finding her gone, or worse, getting into some kind of trouble and not being able to ask for help because he physically couldn’t. The chances of someone at the club or around knowing ASL was less than zero.

  She shuddered inwardly as the men approached. She could do nothing but square her shoulders, straighten her spine and try to look a little less intimidated than she felt.

  The men were tall enough both around six feet. They were burly too, big square shoulders and huge chests. They looked like they shared a wardrobe since they were dressed the same; plaid shirts with cut off sleeves and faded blue jeans. They wore faded, scuffed black combat boots that weren’t quite laced up to the top.

  Along with their shared wardrobe, the men apparently shared the same set of clippers. She would have thought barber, but it didn’t look like either man had ever been to one of those. Yes, their hair was definitely a buzz cut home job. They had the kind of face that was so prematurely aged, a person couldn’t be sure if they were old or young.

  The first guy crossed his arms over his chest. His biceps bulged, a bad tattoo that was probably a silhouette of a woman stood out, the ink greenish and spotty. He stood a foot from Effie and let a stream of brown spittle fly from the corner of his mouth onto the floor. She barely managed to suppress a gag.

  “You lost honey or are were you waiting for a real man to take you home?”

  Nothing like cutting right to the chase.

  Effie tried to be polite. She didn’t want to cause trouble. She hoped she could just excuse herself and get away, find the bathrooms herself or go order a drink with the hopes that the bartender or a bouncer would see that she didn’t want the company and tell the men to leave her alone.

  “I’m waiting for someone.” She smiled sweetly. “Thank you though.”

  The second guy sidled up right beside his buddy. He eyed Effie in a way that made her skin crawl, as though he was seeing her without her clothes on.

  “Any man who leaves a pretty thing like you alone ain’t got the sense of a goat. You need a real man, honey. Who did you come with? Some pretty city boy? That ain’t no real man. Jeff and me, now we know how to show a lady a real good time. Both of us, honey. You ever have two men at once?”

  Effie nearly had to check that her mouth wasn’t gaping open. She couldn’t believe the nerve, but then again, she was in the right place for it. It had been her idea to come in. All because she wouldn’t let Jordan kiss her. Or admit that I actually wanted him to.

  She cursed the gin and her lowered inhibitions. She’d called him greasy once. A snake. God, he isn’t greasy at all. He’s certainly not a snake. He’s actually really nice…

  Just as she was sure the night couldn’t get any worse, Jordan appeared behind the two men, who were leering at her. They didn’t see him approach and one of them took that very second to reach out and boldly fondle Effie’s breast.

  She faltered back a step, completely shocked. “What are you doing?” she choked out.

  The guy smiled to reveal brown tobacco stained teeth which were badly crooked on both the top and the bottom. “Just giving you a taste, sweetheart. There’s more where that-”

  His words were cut off as Jordan abruptly stepped up behind him, whirled him around with a tug on his shoulder and grabbed the front of the guy’s shirt.

  “What the fuck?” The guy startled, and his friend stepped up, obviously sensing trouble and ready to lend a hand where it was needed.

  “What’s your problem man?” The second guy, Jeff apparently, looked way too eager to get involved in a fight, the gleam in his eye a little too crazed, like he enjoyed a good beating as much as he wanted to hand one out.

  “Yah, man, get off my shirt.” The guy who had made a pass at Effie roughly ripped Jordan’s hand away from his shirt.

  “You got something to say man, or are you just going to stand there all night looking at us?”

  They waited a second and Effie realized in a minute the situation was going to spiral out of control.

  “What the fuck you just lookin’ at us like that for?” Jeff snarled. “Oh, I get it. She’s your girl and you got a problem with two men who ain’t just some fuckin’ prissy thing like you teaching her what a real cock is supposed to look like.”

  “Stop!” Effie cut in. She tried to put herself between Jordan and the two guys. “He’s not trying to cause trouble. He’s mute.”

  Jordan glared at her, as though he hated her at very that moment. She’d never seen such a black look in anyone’s eyes before. She wondered what he hated most; that she’d pointed out what he obviously saw as some kind of deficiency or weakness or the fact that she’d stepped in at all.

  “What the fuck is a mute?” Jeff spat a long brown stream onto the floor again. His sneer turned even uglier. “Oh wait. I know what that is. You got a problem with your brain. Can’t think right. That it?”

  “Mute means he can’t talk, idiot,” the other guy cut in. He rolled his eyes. “Either way though, the guy’s a freak. Don’t deserve a lady like that.”

  “Fully agree. Maybe he’ll get the hint and get out of here before we wipe him into the ground.”

  Jordan tensed. He didn’t move. Only Effie seemed to realize the potent rage that boiled just below the surface. It was obviously taking a herculean effort to keep himself under control. The guys wanted to bait him, and he refused to give in.

  “What the hell. I’m takin’ her.” Jeff stepped past Jordan an
d grabbed Effie’s arm. Steely fingers closed over her wrist, biting into her skin.

  She gave a yelp of surprise and that was all it took. It all happened so fast, she barely had time to register it. Jordan moved, detaching Jeff’s arm with a violent blow to the guy’s stomach. He shoved her backward, out of harm’s way. She stumbled and nearly fell before she regained her balance.

  Effie watched in horror as the second guy, coming to his buddy’s aid, swung wildly. He landed a blow right to the side of Jordan’s head. She screamed loud enough to bring the entire club to a standstill. Jeff righted himself just as Jordan stepped out of the way of a second ugly fist. Unfortunately for Jeff, he was right in the line of fire and took it square in the face. He stumbled back with a cry.

  “You fuckin’ broke my nose, you idiot.”

  The other guy blinked hard, clearly surprised at his ill-timed punch. He came at Jordan again and Effie wondered why he didn’t defend himself. He obviously looked capable. He just sidestepped the blow again. He wasn’t fast enough to dodge Jeff’s punch though, which caught him square in the jaw and sent him sprawling to the floor.

  Effie was nearly stupid enough to intervene again, she was so worried those guys were going to do something to Jordan when he was down. Kick him or worse. The words from his book, words Cora had read out loud to her, washed through her mind. Her chest squeezed tight with terror.

  “Stop!” She screamed. This is all my fault. He’s going to get hurt because of me.

  Before she could throw herself back into harm’s way, two burly men dressed all in black grabbed Jeff and his horrible counterpart and hauled them away.

  Bouncers. Finally.

  Effie scrambled to Jordan’s side. She dropped to her knees, trying to reach out and inspect his already swelling jaw, split lip and left eye, but he pushed her away. He got to his feet himself. He didn’t glance around, didn’t even pause. His hand just wrapped around her wrist, gentle but firm, and he propelled her along with him as he headed for the bar’s exit.

  Back out into the warm night air, as alive as it was with people and passing cars, shouts and the excited hum of all-night conversations and endless possibilities, Jordan finally let go of her wrist.

  He didn’t stop walking either. Effie nearly had to run to keep up.

  “Jordan,” she finally called, panting for breath on the sidewalk. “Let me get us a cab. I can’t keep walking. My feet are killing me. You look like death. This is bad publicity.”

  He whirled and took a few long strides back to her side. His chest rose and fell, but it was unclear what emotion he actually felt. She looked into his eyes for a clue, but they were so blue, so filled with everything that it was impossible to tell. That heavy breathing could be caused by anything from rage to anxiety, or it could just be the impossibly brisk pace he was setting.

  His hands flew in a flurry of signs. Any publicity is good publicity. Isn’t that what people say?

  “Not this kind. You’re a motivational speaker, not a fighter.”

  Which is why I didn’t really fight back.

  It finally dawned on her. “I see,” she mumbled. “Still. You look horrible. Your face… Jordan, you have a show tomorrow. There is no way you can do it looking like that.”

  He actually rolled his eyes. His hands never stopped moving. Seriously? You’re worried about a show? That’s what a good makeup artist is for.

  She didn’t laugh, and he kept on going.

  Or maybe I’ll just incorporate it into the talk. It doesn’t matter what age you are or how you thought you’d left all that behind. People are still ignorant and intolerant. Even adults call someone with disabilities a freak, knowing full well what that word means and what they are doing.

  Effie’s stomach spun. She felt completely sick. Her lungs were doing a strange caving in thing, cutting off her breath. “I’m sorry, Jordan. Going in there was a terrible idea. I just… I’m sorry. I… sorry,” she finished lamely. If there was a prize for the most awkward evening with the worst ending, she’d definitely win it.

  His eyes flashed and though it could have been a passing headlight or the glare of one of the many neon signs or lit up billboards or buildings, she thought it was emotion. She thought for just a second that Jordan Wall looked terribly sad and utterly vulnerable. Her urge to comfort him was so great it took her completely by surprise.

  “I… I remember standing up for my sister when we were kids. People could be so mean. They said the worst things. I know that words hurt far worse than any blow. No one ever beat my sister up. Ever. They never laid a hand on her, but kids can be cruel, even without meaning to. She’s since learned to fight her own battles, but I’m sure she still runs into the occasional asshole. Don’t let guys like that bother you. You just have to brush it off. Deep down, they’re probably insecure as fuck. Isn’t that what they say about bullies? That they’re often victims?”

  Not those guys.

  “I agree. Those guys were probably just way too drunk, looking for trouble.”

  Are you alright? Did they hurt you?

  “Oh… no. No, Jordan, you kept that from happening.” She couldn’t keep a little bit of awe from seeping into her tone.

  He just shook his head. That guy grabbed you. I saw it.

  “Well, he did, but it’s not the first time someone has tried it and it probably won’t be the last.” She sighed. “Please, let me get us a cab so you can get back to your bus and put some ice on your face. God, if this ruins the tour and I’ve put all these people out of work, I would never forgive myself.” Effie was ashamed to feel the sting of tears clogging her throat and burning the corners of her eyes.

  Jordan finally shrugged. Okay. Next time you don’t want to be kissed, you could just say no thanks. I don’t know what I was thinking anyway. It was completely inappropriate on my part. You could have just said that or said no thanks. Even a slap would have been preferable.

  She had the odd idea that he was laughing at her since miraculously enough, his lips actually turned up in what could pass as a wry smile. Or at least a humorous smirk.

  Face on fire, Effie hurried off. This time she was the one setting a hurried pace, on her way to the nearest hotel and hopefully, a cab stand.

  CHAPTER 6

  Jordan

  His face hurt. His head fucking hurt too since it had been a long time since he’d had more than a single beer.

  Jordan rolled over in bed, trying to block out the light that leached through the cracks in the blinds. He covered his face with his hands and just as quickly pulled them away as they struck spots that were far too tender.

  The events of the night before rushed through his sleep addled hung-over head. He kept replaying that moment right before he tried to kiss her, over and over in his head. Sleep had been elusive and when it finally came, he was haunted with images of her face and lips. Lips that he couldn’t banish from his mind. Lips that he still so desperately wanted to taste.

  What was I thinking? Trying to kiss Effie? She tried to save face for both of us and instead it ended up so much worse.

  She’d offered to come in and help, but he’d refused. Ted was asleep on the bus. He didn’t want to wake him up just because he’d been a fool. Effie had mumbled something in the cab about their working together and left it at that.

  She didn’t say she thought I was a loser or unattractive or that I disgusted her, but then again, she’s way too nice to ever say those kinds of things.

  He had yet to tell anyone, especially his makeup team, that they were going to have to fix his face for the evening. Maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he’d do like he’d informed Effie after the incident and just work it into his talk. Change things up. It wouldn’t hurt.

  Except he’d have to put a positive spin on it and sometimes he just didn’t damn well feel like being positive.

  He stretched his arm out, humiliation burning through him all over again. His hand came into contact with something warm and mushy and slightly damp. He pulled away in di
sgust and rifled through the covers until he found the thawed-out bag of frozen peas he’d used on his eye the night before.

  The first stirrings of life on the bus, the sound of water running in the bathroom, the quiet click of a door latch opening, the sound of a water jug being emptied into the coffee maker, all alerted him to the fact that his driver, Ted was already up.

  Even though Jordan’s stomach revolted at the thought of breakfast, he forced himself out of bed. He stood shakily before he bent and pulled out a fresh set of clothes out of the drawers lining the bottom part of the bed.

  The short, cold shower helped. His head didn’t feel so foggy and the pounding ache faded. His stomach stopped its sloshing, turning tricks.

  He finally made it out to the small table, clad in jeans and a t-shirt, which wasn’t his normal at all. Ted took one look at him and gave a low whistle.

  “I’ve seen more than my fair share of fights go down on the road over the years. The guys I worked for were always getting into scrapes. He leaned over the table to get a closer look at Jordan’s eye and jaw. “They really got a few good ones in, didn’t they? Your makeup people are gonna shit their pants.”

  The guy’s slow drawl reminded Jordan of someplace southern, or perhaps it was foreign. Irish maybe? Whatever it was, it was long faded, barely discernable. It left everyone wondering what Ted’s origins actually were.

  Jordan smiled. It hurt his jaw, but he couldn’t help himself. Ted grinned right back.

  “Well, I hope you gave as good as you got.”

  Jordan shook his head slowly.

  “Right. I can see how that wouldn’t have been at all appropriate given what you do for a-livin’. People wouldn’t take kindly to using violence when you advocate for all those feelings and inner reflection.”

  Jordan knew when he was being poked fun at, but with Ted, he didn’t mind. The old man wasn’t the kind of guy who laughed at someone. Laughed with them, more like. Sure enough, a small chuckle escaped his throat. It sounded more like the hack of someone who smoked heavily for the better part of four decades before quitting, but it was a chuckle all the same.