by A. R. Case
“Shut up, Vi, and get your damn coat!”
Chris’s laugh broke the kiss. “Let’s sneak out of here as soon as they clear out.”
“Sounds like a plan, bad boy,” was Alexis’s reply.
It took a bit to avoid the scene at the coats, then there was a wait at the valet. Another set of party-goers were in front of them. They were slower getting loaded in. Chris was forced to idle until they moved out of the way. “You have fun with the band tonight?”
“It was awesome. I wish…” She stopped herself. “Never mind. I had a great time. Thank you.”
“You’ve got to stop doing that.”
“Doing what?”
“Thanking me for everything.”
She frowned. “But it’s the thing you do when you’re grateful as hell.”
The car in front of them moved forward about a foot and stopped again. The driver was setting the GPS and ignoring the build-up behind him.
“That’s just it. You’re so different from ... “ He cleared his throat, “I mean, it isn’t like I’m performing miracles.”
“Dude. Listen up. I’m going to keep thanking you every time you do something nice. Deal with it.”
He smiled. Turning his attention to the stalled traffic, he tapped his fingers on the steering wheel. “You feel like going home yet?”
“Not really.”
“They do open jams on Saturday nights at the Cave, right?”
He could feel the sudden change in her. He looked over to figure out why.
She was quiet, both arms crossed in front of her now.
“I’m not mad about the coat.” He felt it necessary to tell her.
She flipped a hand out to wave his words away. “Not worried about that.”
“You worried about Ghost?”
Her hand tucked back under her arm. “No.”
He stared at her. “I think you’re lying.”
“The car is moving.”
Sure enough, it was. He pulled out and turned south. “I’ve never fought in a suit. You think I could kick his ass?” It would be neutral ground, much more of a fair fight.
“Chris.”
“Seriously, I bet I could.”
“I bet he’d knife you.”
He made a sound and then turned right.
“Home is straight.”
“The Cave is this way though.”
She crossed her arms tighter, if there was such a thing.
“It’ll be fun. We’ll stand out like sore thumbs there. You’ll be gorgeous, and I’ll be a tool.”
That got a small smile. “There’s not a single one of them who look as good as you do in a suit.”
“I don’t know, that bouncer would probably clean up well.”
“Ha! Brian? Have you seen the size of his arms? I don’t know if they make suits that fit over those.”
He laughed. “It would be fucking expensive to custom tailor one for him. He’d have to lose the guyliner though.”
“I like the guyliner on him. It looks kick-ass.”
Chris held his thoughts on that inside.
“What? You don’t think so?”
“Kind of pro-wrestler-ish.”
“That’s the appeal.” Her arms finally uncrossed and she was more relaxed.
“Did I tell you that you sounded fucking terrific tonight?”
“Yes, already did that, minus the obscenity.”
“You looked hot on stage, too. I want to see what you and your dress look like when you’re singing rock.”
“Seriously?”
“I bet it will flip them right the fuck out. We could pretend we’re lovers.”
She smiled and straightened some of the strings in her lap. “Dylan has never seen me in this.”
Chris made a sound in his throat.
“Did you just growl?”
“No.”
“You did. You’re jealous,” she laughed.
“Not jealous.”
“You totally are.” She began unpinning her hair, then bent over as far as she could with the seatbelt in place.
“What are you doing?”
“Fluffing.”
He choked on what he was going to say next.
“Filthy mind you have.”
“Thanks, Yoda.”
Her voice changed. “Powerful you have become. The dark side I sense in you.”
“Jesus.” He turned on his signal and maneuvered the car around the corner. “I’m driving.”
“You must unlearn what you have learned. Size matters not.”
“Only you can make Yoda sound dirty.”
“Thank you.” She did another flip and tousle then checked her make-up in the mirror on her visor. Using the light, she applied darker eyeliner and added more lip gloss. “I like your car. The visor lights up just right.”
“Glad you approve. I like it, too.” He chanced a glance over to see her profile illuminated. He wasn’t talking about the car.
Chapter 10 — A Prince of a guy
The Cave
They found a table. Chris took her coat and handed it off to the bartender who took one look at it and found a closet that no one but the bar staff could access. Alexis took Chris’s suit jacket from him to use as cover since the silk scarf was safely tucked with the coat. She rolled the sleeves up. Then she introduced Chris to some of the musicians who were hanging out at the bar. After a couple of rotations, she joined the band on stage. He stayed behind with the ones who’d sat this set out.
“Well, damn, if it ain’t the fucking prince.”
Chris knew that voice. He looked up and matched it to the person in his memories. He knew the nickname, Ghost, but wasn’t going to give him the respect by saying it. “Owen James.”
“You lose a coat recently?” He was half laughing and watching Chris’s reaction.
“Funny thing, my girl came home cold. I don’t appreciate that.”
Ghost sneered. “The blue-haired chick? I thought you only fucked society bitches.”
The band on stage started up a song, this one loud and hard. Alexis had lost his suit jacket and leaned her back on the guitarist. He was braced against her but rocking forward toward the audience and back. Mimicking the movement, she jumped in with the lyrics, and her voice lacked all of the former smoothness. It was just shy of screaming.
It was too loud to answer him. Instead, Chris stood up, pointed at her, and whistled his appreciation. Then he grabbed Ghost’s coat. Pulling him in, he got in his ear. “You fuck with her again and I’ll come after you.”
Ghost’s reply was to try to punch Chris in the stomach.
He’d anticipated it. The punch glanced to one side, then Chris locked the extended arm with his own. His other arm swung up and his elbow connected with Ghost’s jaw. It didn’t faze him, and the scuffle got serious. The table tipped, and Ghost took him down. Chris managed to twist himself on top and used every dirty trick his father had taught him to hurt his former friend. He landed another good shot to the face. There was a commotion behind him.
The other biker with Ghost was folded back against the half wall of the booth. Daniel Mills had him in a chokehold.
Ghost took advantage of the lapse and caught Chris’s leg. It took another minute of twisting and grappling to get out of it. The bouncer and bartender, and about four others, were ready when they broke apart.
“Get out,” the bartender said to Ghost.
“He started it.” He pointed at Chris.
“Not what I saw,” the bouncer said.
Alexis was behind him, wide-eyed. The biker Mills had pinned tried to get out of the hold and the scuffle distracted a few people, including the bartender, who ordered, “Let him go.”
Mills complied, using the excuse of standing him up to rough him
up a few seconds more. The guy tried to take a swing at Mills but was caught by the bouncer, mid-swing. He carted him to the door.
The bartender pointed his bat at Ghost. “If you don’t want your entire crew banned, you leave now.”
“You’ll fucking regret that.”
“I didn’t ban you yet, but you fucking know better.”
Ghost spit on the ground. “Fuck you. We’ll go where we want.”
The bartender glanced in the direction of the door. “Who’s we?”
“I’ll be back.” He shoved Chris as he walked past.
Mills shot out a hand and caught Ghost’s wrist. The bartender lifted his bat, ready to take a swing.
“Nice coat.” Mills twisted Ghost’s arm downward, instead of into a control hold. It was easy for Ghost to pull his arm out of it.
“Go fuck yourself, asshole.”
The bartender didn’t put down his bat until they were gone, and his bouncer gave the all-clear. “What the fuck were you two numbskulls thinking? Do you know who they are?”
Alexis rushed to Chris’s side. “You okay?” She dabbed at the side of his mouth. There was a tender spot and some blood. Chris flinched.
“I’m fine.” He glared at Mills. “Hey, Dan, you following me?”
“Nope. Not following you.”
“You sure?” He moved his head to indicate a booth near the back.
“You two assholes are leaving soon, right?” The bartender tapped his bat against his boot.
“He’s here with Alexis, so no,” Mills pointed out.
“I can be done,” she said.
“No, you have fun. Dan and I need to talk,” Chris said.
“You sure?” she asked Chris, then she turned to the bartender. “Is it okay?”
He frowned but softened. “They’re with you?”
She glanced at Mills, who nodded. “I guess so.”
The frown deepened. He lifted the bat and poked Chris. “You protect her.” He looked at Mills and instead of the bat, he used a finger to point at him. “You start shit, I’m calling the cops.”
Mills laughed, “Please do.”
Chris glanced between them, then laughed too. “I’d like to see that.”
“Fucking lunatics. You’re lucky it was only the two of them tonight,” the bartender muttered. “I hope you know what you’re doing, Angel,” he said to Alexis as he walked back to the bar.
Alexis retrieved the microphone she’d abandoned, and said, “What a show!” She said something in the guitarist’s ear, he nodded. Then she leaned back to the drummer and said something. He started a beat using the cowbell. The guitarist jumped in and they launched into a classic rock song. The crowd went from standing around to screaming the lyrics with her.
Mills found an empty table in the corner. The couple who had been making out in the table right next to it got up. The man was giving both of them the side-eye.
“Want a drink?”
Chris shook his head. “What are you doing here?”
“Interesting coincidence you being in Longport that night.”
“I told the police everything. And you were there when Vi blew up.”
“And then, you move a girl into your apartment who just happens to wear a coat with the same patch that the nearest Brigand chapter vice president has on his sleeve.”
“Maybe it’s a common thing, you know, like those ‘Have a nice day’ stickers.”
“Nice try, DeSantos. But you see, I know something the Longport boys don’t.”
Chris stretched his legs then crossed them. “What is that?”
Instead of answering him, Mills watched the band change out members. Alexis got off the stage and was held up by one of the crowd near the front. Chris craned his head to make certain she was okay.
“You patched in with the Brigands at nineteen.”
Chris’s head whipped back at Mills. “So? I also got shot at nineteen. As you can see, it’s been a long time since both of those events.” He went back to watching Alexis make her way through the crowd to the bar. She climbed up on the bottom rail to get a view over the crowd. He waved so she’d notice them in the corner. She waved back, then ordered a drink.
“Is that patch common?”
“No.”
“How uncommon is it?”
“I don’t need to tell you.”
“Does it have anything to do with the Brigands?”
Chris scowled at Daniel Mills.
“After your hospital stay, you didn’t stay in, right?”
“That’s right. Got scared straight. Almost dying does that to a guy.”
“I imagine they didn’t want to let you go so easily. Especially with who your father and uncle were.”
Chris turned his full attention to Mills. “It took me over three months to relearn how to walk. The bullet went in through here,” he pointed down to his side, just below his belt, “and part of it came out here.” He stood up halfway from the chair he was sitting in and pointed at his ass. “It went through the hip bone on its way through and broke into three pieces. The surgeons dug two pieces out and replaced the bone. Then there was the other shot that went in through here.” He tapped his pectoral muscle near his armpit.
“Still, all the land your father owned. The strip your sign shop sits on. The ones you sold. From what I understand about these types of things, that should have been the club’s when he died.”
Chris shook his head. “Guess you don’t know everything.”
“Well, I know now there is more than one jacket that has a patch on the sleeve with three cups and saber.”
Alexis walked up.
Chris stood up and made introductions. He pulled a chair out so she could sit in-between him and Mills. There was small talk, and Mills flagged a waitress down for drinks. Chris asked for a glass of water and top-shelf whiskey. Mills ordered a beer. Alexis still had her hard cider in hand so she declined.
“Did you know the coat you won in a bar bet has a rare patch?” Mills asked.
Chris coughed. “Told you about that,” he directed at Mills.
“I know you did. I just want to hear it from her.”
“He the one you told me about?” she asked Chris.
He nodded.
“It was Chris’s coat. I’ve got a thing about men’s’ clothes…” Alexis tugged Chris’s suit jacket she’d retrieved back on, “…and lying.”
Mills leaned back with a smile. “See, that wasn’t so hard.”
“Yes, it was,” Alexis muttered.
“When did Chris give it to you?”
“When he almost ran me over.”
“Seriously?”
“Told you about that, too,” Chris said but was ignored.
“So, he almost runs you over, and gives you the coat?”
“It was cold, the main power was out. My coat was soaked, no thanks to dodging cars. Besides, there’s something kinky about wearing Chris’s clothes, especially naked, like on the kitchen floor.”
Chris glanced at her. She’d started lying.
Mills glanced at Chris. “Did he tell you it was rare?”
“Just so everyone at the table knows, the patch on the sleeve is what he’s talking about when he says, rare.” Chris paused, “I asked before, are you following me?”
Mills indicated Alexis. “Her. I had some questions about the story she told the police. But amazing coincidence another person with a coat like that here, no?”
Both Chris and Alexis looked at each other.
“Chris?” He could tell she was getting scared again. Lord knows what she would come up with next if he didn’t take over.
He sighed. “There were three made.” He directed the statement at Mills.
“Enlighten me.”
Chris frowned. “Three patch
es, three presidents’ firstborn sons, and pledged the same year. Some asshole thought there should be a special patch to celebrate it.”
Alexis’s eyes got big. “You said your father was a biker, but not that he was president.”
“Who has the third one?” Mills asked.
“Had. A kid named Grant. He died about fifteen years ago. I think he was buried in the coat.” Chris looked around the room.
Mills watched the table. “Funny thing about that patch, it showed up in a police report on the same night.”
“Where?” Chris asked.
Mills smiled. “About a quarter-mile north of your rental, at a marina.”
“Why would Ghost be at a marina?” Alexis asked.
“Interesting that you think it was Ghost. But hey, not my case. But he’s a character. Owen James Nowak, aka Ghost. He’s got a record, you know that?”
“What for?” Alexis asked Mills.
“Distribution, possession with intent, illegal firearm, possession of stolen merchandise, extortion, and an assault charge which got pled to a misdemeanor because he was only fifteen then.”
“Lovely person. Chris, do you think we should invite him to the lanai for tea?”
He snorted. The waitress delivered their drinks and Chris mixed the whiskey with a little of the water and sipped it, then set the water in front of Alexis. She drank a sip.
Mills caught the action over the rim of his beer. Alexis moved her chair slightly and leaned into Chris. In response, he looped an arm over the back of her chair.
“You may want to hold on to that invite. I have a feeling Longport is going to bring him in for questioning soon.”
“Just questioning or murder charges?” Chris dropped, then took another sip of his drink.
Mills smiled. “Put it together, didn’t you? Trouble is, why would a Brigand like Ghost off a mobster?”
“Business or a hit,” Chris said without thinking.
“Ha! That’s what I think.” Mills slapped the table. Alexis jumped a little under Chris’s arm. He slipped his arm off the chair and around her to tuck her closer.
“Good luck with that.” Chris directed his next question at Alexis. “You get enough stage time tonight?”
“I think so. You ready to go home?”
“Very. My ribs hurt where that dick hit me.”