“Hey!” Her hand in mine jerks me back. “Let me get that.”
“You don’t have to serve old Earl. He’s practically able to get it himself.”
“I heard that, and I’ll have you know that I’m still a paying customer, even after all these years,” he barks back.
I cough out a short laugh. We both know he gets more booze for free than anyone in here except for Bill.
“Don’t give him a hard time, Alex. He’s one of my favorite customers,” Shelby chimes in. She slinks around me and sways her hips all the way to the counter.
If I didn’t know her as well as I do, I’d say it was intentional. Regardless, the show has me fighting getting hard.
I survey the other men around the bar, making sure they aren’t enjoying her more than they should be. She doesn’t appear to be on the receiving end of any lewd stares. I’m just glad I’m on the only one with a view from the back.
Since there’s a lull in the evening, not unusual for a Tuesday, I approach Elias in his dark corner.
“Been here long?”
“Long enough,” he returns.
“What’s that supposed to me?” I lean over the bar in his direction.
“Stand down, brother.”
“I think it’s you that needs to stand down. You got a problem, say it.”
He reaches into his back pocket and pulls out his wallet. “No problem, but I can use a drink.”
“Bullshit,” I grind out. Reaching behind me, I snag a bottle of vodka from the middle shelf and a shot glass. I pour a hefty glug and slide the glass over. “Talk.”
Elias shoots it back in one swallow and passes it back with a look that says another. I send a refill, and he tosses it back. “Thanks,” he mutters.
I pour another but keep it near me. When I look back up, I follow his gaze over to Shelby. He’s looking at her with that same questioning look.
“You sure you know what you’re doing?”
“Nope,” I answer honestly.
He jerks back and swings his eyes to me. “For real?”
I shrug. “Doin’ the best I can, but I think we both can agree this shit isn’t my forte.”
“Yeah, you could say that.”
“Thanks, asshole.”
Finally, he cracks a grin. “She’s different.”
It’s my turn to look at Shelby where she’s trading laughs with Bill and Earl. Her long hair looks silky in the overhead bar lights as she throws her head back in amusement at something Bill said. The old flirt.
“Yeah.”
A quick pause. “You’re different, and before you say anything, I’m fucking glad to see it.”
“It’s because of her,” I admit quietly.
“Yeah.”
He turns back to look at her too. I pick up the already poured shot and toss it back. Drinking on the job is generally frowned upon, but I’m the boss, and I feel the need to toast Elias’s observation.
“Happiness looks good on her.”
“On you too, brother.”
“Time will tell,” I mutter, my voice filled with the skepticism that lives in my bones like a mold.
Above the twenty or so voices raised in conversation, a shout is heard loud and clear.
“Chloe?”
As we both see Shelby stiffen, Elias and I take a millisecond to exchange a glance before moving into action.
“Hey, Chloe, is that you?”
A middle-aged white man with peppered hair and a beer gut walks into view, his squinty eyes searching Shelby’s pale face.
Fuck.
“Get her out of here.” I snarl at Elias. He dives over the partition without lifting it just before I make it there and fling the piece of wood open so hard it cracks against the other side with a loud bang. From the corner of my eye, I see Bill and Earl stand from their stools and form a wall between Shelby and this fucker who has his eye on her.
“Hey, out of my way,” the jackass asks the two older men, but neither of them budges. I’ll have to remember to give them both a bottle of top-shelf booze after this.
That thought flits through my mind because I finally make it to this fucker, and without a pause, I plant both palms into his chest and give him an almighty shove. He goes back three feet and nearly takes a knee as he loses his balance.
“Hey!” He shouts at me.
I give him a second to take his feet. But only a second.
“What do you want with her?” I snarl.
He holds his palms up. “I’m just an old friend.”
“Yeah? How old?” I give him another shove toward the door.
“Does it matter? Who the hell are you anyway?”
“Her new friend.” My fist flies at his face, knocking into his cheekbone and sending his head twisting to the side.
“Fuck you, man!” he yells and stumbles into the exterior door. I slam my hand into it and send him falling through.
Someone shouts my name as I follow him outside, but it sounds as if my head is underwater. Everything is buzzing as I peer at this piece of shit. There’s no way with Shelby’s reaction that this man ever was a friend.
He called her a name I’ve heard her mention only once before, and his mere presence scared her.
Which means he’s a … a rapist. A predator.
He falls to his back on the concrete walkway, and I take the opportunity to dig out my cell and snap a photo of his face before I demolish it. Foresight I’ll thank myself for later.
He throws his hand in front of his head, but it’s too late.
I grab the collar of his shirt and haul him to his feet. Spinning, I slam his back into the brick exterior of the bar.
“She doesn’t exist for you.” I swing at him with my right fist. “Not now.” Another punch. “Not in the past,” I grunt as I swing again.
“Never again,” I snarl into his bloodied half-conscious face before tossing him to the side.
“Now get gone. If I get wind that you’re talkin’ shit about this or askin’ about her,” I lean down, “to anyone, I’ll tell everyone you get your rocks off paying for underaged girls to fuck.” I spit the last part in his face. “That includes sending your picture to the fuckin’ cops.”
He slowly rolls over onto his elbows and knees, coughing and spitting blood and saliva onto the concrete.
“Knock it off. I don’t have time to clean that shit up.”
Using the brick wall, he pulls himself to his feet and walks to a black car parked by the curb. I take a picture of that and his plate too, making sure he sees me do it. The more info this guy thinks I have on him, the more likely he is to keep his mouth shut.
As the adrenaline wears off, the twinge in my right hand gets stronger. I turn to go back inside. Bill is standing near the entrance, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed over his chest.
“Been there long?” I grunt as I walk past and into the bar.
“Long enough to know you take care of your own better than your pop. Seen him throw out a drunk a time or two, but never was as satisfying as that was to watch.”
“Glad you enjoyed the show,” I grind out through a clenched jaw. The partition is open, so I step through, giving a chin lift to Earl as he fills a couple’s drinks. I pour another shot from the bottle left out and make quick work of filling a clean towel with ice. Not that I need it, but I’m about to go find Shelby, and there’s a ninety-nine percent chance she’ll demand I ice it.