Deny the Moon

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Deny the Moon Page 7

by Melissa A. Graham


  *****

  Frank

  The bar next to the Fairview Motel was small, even for a hole-in-the-wall dive bar. The space wasn't much bigger than a typical family room. The bar on the far wall sat two stools, and aside from a few tall tables, it was pretty much standing room only. Most of its space was lent out to the single billiards table just in front of the door. It would have been too small to hold the entire crew, but tonight it was just Frank, Paulie, and John Boy.

  John Boy racked up while Frank and Paulie got themselves a couple beers. The place was empty enough; just a bartender, a waitress, and one guy who'd made his way into the bathroom as the trio entered. Small as this place was, the need for more than just a bartender on duty seemed a bit excessive but she wasn't hard on the eyes. She gave Frank the full effect of her smile, though there wasn't anything remarkable about it. She was short, her dark hair cut into haphazard layers with streaks of purple peeking out, and a little thicker around the middle than the social standard thought as hot, but her curves made up for it. If you're not gonna be stick-thin, then flaunt the assets a plusher body gave you.

  Frank gave her a wink before heading back to the pool table with Paulie, sipping on the cold bottle of Budweiser. John Boy had already taken his turn, the rainbow of billiard balls scattered all over the green felt.

  "Still open," the kid said as he looked for an ashtray on a nearby table.

  Paulie took the cue from the wall and stalked about the table, looking for a shot. Finding the one ball in a near-perfect set up with the corner pocket, he placed the cue, lined up his shot, and took it. He sunk it in effortlessly, the cue ball rolling back to rest almost exactly where it had started.

  "Alright, Frank. I don't think you pulled us in here for some nine ball," Paulie said as he sized up another shot. He hit it, sinking his intended ball into the side pocket, and subsequently lining up a third perfect shot. John Boy sighed, shaking his head. "What's goin' on in that hard head of yours?"

  "You know exactly what we need to talk about," Frank said as he glanced at the bartender behind the bar.

  He moved towards the jukebox on the opposite wall, clicking a few buttons. The clicking of billiards was the only sound in the place. No way could they talk freely like this. He tossed in a few quarters, hit a random sequence of buttons, and made his way back towards Paulie. Frampton started playing, giving them just enough white noise to talk about things without being overheard.

  "He has to be dealt with," Frank said behind the mouth of his bottle.

  "Who? D'Angelo?" Paulie said, missing his next shot by a glance.

  John Boy made a sound of excitement, drawing the eyes of both men to him. He squirmed a little under their collective stare before moving to take his shot. Frank shook his head and looked back to Paulie giving him a quick nod.

  "C'mon, Frank. I mean... Chuck's blood is still warm," Paulie's voice quieted even more with that. "You really think we outta go picking a fight with D?"

  John Boy missed his shot, cussed softly, and stood back against the wall again. It almost seemed like he was oblivious to the conversation. That, or he was smart.

  "He's a wildcard, Paulie," Frank answered.

  "And you aren't?"

  "What the fuck do you think he's gonna do, man? Come back to the motel, find Chuck dead, and just go 'oh... well... shit. Guess I better go find a real job'?" Frank shook his head. "Fuck no. He's comin' for me. The minute he figures out what the fuck went down, he's comin' at me tooth and claw. Chuck was too stupid to see past his bruised ego to do what he had to do to beat me. We all know what would've happened if he'd gone all wolf. It'd be me laying on that crusted-up bed. D ain't that stupid."

  "But he can't shift either, Frank. It's even ground," Paulie said.

  "Exactly. I got the drop on Chuck 'cause he let his bitch get into his head. D'Angelo won't. He thinks, once Chuck's gone, the pack is his. That he's the stronger wolf. Only difference is he ain't distracted by the bullshit. He can just as easily kill me as I can him."

  "So what do we do, then? Keep running with our tails tucked?" Paulie asked.

  Frank's jaw muscles clenched as he stared down Paulie over the pool table. Paulie looked up from his line-up, stared at Frank for a few silent heartbeats, and then shook his head, cursing softly under his breath. He stood up, not even bothering with the shot now. He leaned on the pool cue, giving Frank the full weight of his eyes.

  "He's gonna find us sooner or later. He ain't gonna give up what he thinks is his," Paulie said.

  Frank just took another sip of his beer. John Boy stared at him openly. He was young, inexperienced. A mere prospect for the M.C. Chuck hadn't thought was ready to get so deeply involved in things yet.

  "Frank, look... I know. You're a beast. Hard, driven, a hell of a fuckin' leader. But this just ain't how it's done," Paulie's eyes had gone from suspicious to worried.

  "How it's done," Frank whispered with a bitter laugh. "There are no set rules for this, Paulie. Pretty to think so, but this life ain't built on rules. It's born of chaos. The thrill of the chase and the power to take what you want with force and blood. Chuck had his damn rules and his own limits he placed on himself when he tried to lead us. Look where it got him."

  "What if D'Angelo finds us?" John Boy asked. The other two men looked at him in unison and he swallowed hard.

  Paulie slid eyes to Frank, shrugging a shoulder as if he were wondering the same.

  "Kid's got a point. Now, I love ya Frank, but we can only run away so long. He's gonna come back and find the body. Gonna figure out we took off. Fuck, I still don't get why you wanted to bring the body back. We should have left him in the field and been done with it."

  Frank stared between the two of them for a moment as if he were letting it all sink in. They still doubted him. Doubted he had the strength and ruthlessness needed to lead these people. Yeah, they were right about D'Angelo. He would be out for fucking blood. Did that make Frank want to take him out any less? Hell, no. If anything, Frank felt like it might help him prove himself to the rest of them.

  "You wanted D'Angelo to find Chuck, didn't you? You're not runnin' away from the fight. You're just buying time," John Boy looked at Frank completely bewildered.

  He hadn’t expected the kid to figure it out before Paulie did. A smile found its way onto Frank's lips and he clapped a hand against John Boy's back. It was a very friendly gesture, though John Boy seemed to lurch forward with the force of Frank's hand.

  "How long you been with us now, John Boy?" Frank asked suddenly.

  The kid blinked large brown eyes at him, thrown off by the sudden left turn the conversation had taken.

  "Like... a year. Maybe eighteen months," he answered.

  "Paulie. I think it's time to take the training wheels off, don't you?" Frank said, giving Paulie that practiced grin of his.

  Paulie looked at him with suspicion dancing in his eyes, but also didn't push the subject any further. The man had proven himself a damn good friend and loyal packmate. Frank knew he would follow him into the flames of Hell itself, and if all went well that would be exactly where they were heading.

 

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