“Yeah, yeah. You have me shaking in my fucking boots.” Country pointed towards the door as he demanded, “Get the fuck out of here before I shove this shaking boot right up your fucking ass.”
I’d just made my way over to Country when the group of assholes turned and started towards the front. Before making it out the door, a couple of them kicked over a few chairs and a table, but I didn’t give a fuck. They were gone. I stepped over to Country as I asked, “You okay, brother?”
“Yeah, but I’d be better if I could’ve put my fist down one of those motherfucker’s throats.” Country grumbled curses under his breath with fury. Once he’d settled down, he looked over to me and asked, “How’s Izzy?”
“Could be better. I sent her on home. We’ll need to have one of the girls call and check in on her later.”
“Sounds good. What about you?” Country looked down at my busted knuckles as he asked, “How are the hands treatin’ ya?”
“Like I put ‘em through a meat grinder, but nothing a little ice won’t fix.”
Country glanced over at the door as he asked, “You have any idea who those guys were?”
“Not a clue.”
“Wonder if we’ll get any blowback from that shit?”
“Hard to tell.” I shook my head. “Assholes like that don’t like to be wrong, and they sure as hell don’t like to have their asses kicked when they are.”
“True, but if they’re smart, they’ll let it go and move on.”
“Yeah, well, they didn’t look all that bright to me.” I turned and started back towards the bar as I told him, “But rest assured, if they’re stupid enough to show up here again, I’ll finish what I started with their friend. You can count on that.”
Without saying anything more, I went over to the cooler and started scooping out ice for my hand. When Lisa saw what I was doing, she rushed up behind me and said, “Go sit. I’ll get this and bring it over.”
I nodded, then went over and sat down behind the counter. Moments later, Lisa came over with a rag and some ice. Without saying a word, she took my wounded hand and carefully wrapped it with the ice resting on my sore knuckles. Once she was done, she shook her head and said, “Hopefully, this will help a little.”
“It’ll be fine. Thanks.”
“You’re the one who needs to be thanked.” She sighed. “Thanks to you, that asshole who put his hands on Izzy got exactly what he deserved.”
“Just doing my job.”
“Well, I appreciate it. We all do.” Lisa paused and her expression grew serious. “People can say what they want about the Ruthless Sinners. You and your brothers certainly do take care of your own.”
“That’s what the brotherhood is all about.”
She gave my arm a quick squeeze, then made her way back behind the counter. Just as I’d expected, it wasn’t long before the crowds started rolling in. The game was over, and the Titans had won, leaving everyone hyped and ready for a good time. Thankfully, the remainder of the night went without any major altercations. Everyone seemed to behave themselves, so my hands got a minute to rest. By the time my shift was over, the swelling had gone down and felt good enough for me to ride my bike back to my place.
My long, shitty night was finally coming to an end.
Frankie
“Hello, Ms. Sullivan. This is Officer Reynolds from the Metro Police Department.” My mind immediately went to a dark place, and I feared something horrible had happened to my oldest child when I heard him say, “I’m calling about your son, Corry Sullivan.”
“Oh God, what happened? Is he okay? Is he hurt?”
“No, ma’am. He’s fine. He’s actually sitting in the back of my squad car. He’s a little freaked out, but he’s okay.”
“Okay, then what’s going on?”
“Corry and a couple of his buddies were just taken into custody for trying to purchase marijuana pods from an undercover officer at the Davenport Park.”
“A marijuana pod?”
“They are just like nicotine vaping devices only these contain dabs or pods that contain THC oil.”
I couldn’t believe it. Corry was my precious child—my first born. From the moment I’d become pregnant with him, I’d felt like he was a part of me—like I knew him even before he was born. I’d felt so in tune with him, almost like he was part of my very soul. I was supposed to know when something was wrong, and it broke my heart to know that he’d get himself involved in such a terrible thing without me even knowing it. I should’ve known something was wrong. Since the divorce, my once bright, smiling, straight A, neat-freak son had turned into a completely different child. His grades had dropped, he barely came out of his room, which was hard to fathom because of the enormous mess of trash and dirty clothes, and he rarely smiled anymore. Hearing the officer say Corry had tried to buy marijuana made me wonder if drugs were the root of the change. I was still trying to make sense of it all as I told him, “I’ve never seen him with any pods or any kind of vape.”
“I’m not surprised. That’s one of the very reasons why they’ve become so popular for kids Corry’s age. They are easily hidden from their parents.”
“I just can’t believe Corry would ever use something like that. He’s a good kid. He doesn’t get in this kind of trouble.”
“Well, he hasn’t gotten into trouble up until now. Now, he’s in a mess of it,” the officer countered with little emotion. “These boys knew what they were purchasing was illegal. They knew the chances they were taking, but that didn’t stop them from trying to buy them.”
“I’m so sorry.” I tried to steady my breathing as I told him, “I’m in complete shock right now. I don’t know what to think.”
“Don’t take this too hard. Corry seems like a good kid and clearly he has a good support system at home. That’s why I called you instead of booking him.” Relief washed over me when he continued, “I won’t press charges if you can assure me that you and his father will handle this thing with him. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir. We will handle it. Not only will he be grounded until the end of time, but I’m also going to find him a counselor...a really good one.”
“I’d suggest Dr. Archer. I’ve known several families who’ve had a great deal of success with him. He seems to be great in situations like these. Just let him know I sent you, and hopefully, he can get you in pretty quickly.”
“Oh, wow. Thank you. I’ll definitely do that.”
“Good deal. You can come pick him up at the station on Third.”
“Thank you so much! I’ll be there in ten minutes.”
I hadn’t even hung up the phone when I grabbed my keys and raced for the door. As I drove over to the station, I took a moment to reflect on my life and the choices I’d made. I’ll admit I had my doubts about whether or not leaving my ex-husband was the right thing to do.
Anyone who thinks life gets better, easier, after divorce is wrong—bad wrong. Divorce isn’t some grand escape from an unwanted life. It isn’t a ‘get out of jail free’ card. Divorce is hard. It’s a monster that lurks in the shadows and pounces when you least expect it. It will pull at you. It will break your heart and make you doubt yourself at every turn. And just when you think it can’t get any worse—when you have nothing left to give, it will come back for more. Divorce doesn’t care if you’ve done everything right. It doesn’t care if you were a dedicated, faithful spouse and doting parent. It also doesn’t care that you’re the one who screwed everything up and caused the demise of the marriage. The details don’t matter. No one is spared from the hurt. No one.