by Beth Flynn
“Maybe later,” he shouted back. “You go ahead. I’ll get us another round.”
Jake stood as I approached. He motioned to the seat across from him and waited for me to sit before he sat back down. The band was now playing a slow song and couples were making their way to the dance floor. I wanted to ask him if this was where he’d wanted to take me when he asked me out last Tuesday. I also wanted to thank him for changing my tire and ask how much I owed him. I wanted to grill him on how friendly he’d become with Darlene, and ask what his connection was, if any, to the band that was playing. All those questions were tripping over each other in my head and couldn’t find their way to my mouth. So I blurted out the thing I wanted to know the most.
“Did you come here alone?”
He gave me a knowing grin, and I could only hope I wasn’t turning red.
He took a sip of his drink before answering. “Yeah, I came alone. The lady I wanted to bring already had plans.” He motioned with a sideways tilt of his head toward Dustin’s table.
Before I could comment, he added, “Can I get you something to drink?”
I peered over at Dustin and his friends. “I probably should head back. It feels rude to have come here with him and have a drink with you.” I barely got the words out when I saw a tall brunette, who was probably close to my age, making her way toward my vacated seat. Dustin seemed to know her, and before offering her my chair, turned my way as if to ask permission. I smiled and gave a quick nod of assent. I felt a little less guilty about wanting to say hello to Jake who’d been watching the scene play out.
“Well?”
“I’ll have what you’re having,” I laughed. I was feeling something I hadn’t felt in a very long time. I was feeling as giddy as a schoolgirl.
He waved a waitress over, ordered two more Dr. Peppers and a couple of appetizers.
While we waited for her to return, I asked him about the band and how often he frequented The Lonesome Keg.
“This is my first time.” He casually waved toward the stage before adding, “And I’m only here because I heard they were playing.” He told me the same story Darlene had shared. How after hearing them play down in Georgia, he’d liked them so much he grabbed a couple of their CDs.
“You must be quite the charmer,” I told him. “She’s still stuck on her country oldies. I know she likes you merely because she’s playing the CD you gave her.”
He told me how much he liked Darlene, and after agreeing how special she was, I asked what I owed him for my tire. He brushed me off and said I didn’t owe him anything. After some back-and-forth, I finally conceded with a sincere, “Thank you. I owe you one.”
“Doc? Is that you?”
We both turned our heads at the same time as Mike rolled to the end of our booth in his wheelchair. I hadn’t recalled telling him I was a physician, but I realized he wasn’t talking to me. He was smiling at Jake and asked, “How many years has it been?”
Jake looked at me, and back at Mike. “Too many to count,” he replied with a broad smile that deepened the dimple on his cheek. He exited the booth and bent over to hug Mike. It looked like they might’ve exchanged words, but it was hard to tell because they were turned away from me. There was a lot of laughter, handshakes, and comments about how many years it’d been and what were the chances they’d run into each other. But I wasn’t thinking about any of those things. I wanted to know why Mike had called Jake Doc.
Chapter 19
Two Scary-Looking Bikers
I waited until Jake sat down again and after he formally introduced me to Mike before I asked, “Why did he call you Doc?”
Jake hesitated. Before he could answer, Mike piped up, “Jake was the Dr. Pepper guy.” We both looked at Mike at the same time, and he motioned with his hand toward our drinks. “You know, Doc for Dr. Pepper?” He broke into a wide grin before adding, “Not to mention I’d recognize that tattoo anywhere.” He pointed at Jake’s neck.
Mike told me how back in the 1980s he used to bartend at a place called The Red Crab in Fort Lauderdale, Florida. “Jake was the soda delivery guy. And every single day he’d hit the Crab around lunchtime. Always ordered a burger and a Dr. Pepper.” Mike sat back in his wheelchair beaming, proud of himself that he’d remembered such a detail.
Jake looked at me and said, “I told you how I took any job I could get back then. Driving a soda delivery truck was one of them.” He inclined his head toward Mike and said, “He started calling me Doc, and eventually the regulars did too.”
“Was The Red Crab a biker bar?” I asked. “Like this used to be when you owned it?”
When Mike told me that it was, I looked at Jake. “Were you a biker? Did you belong to a gang or something?”
“I’ve ridden a motorcycle for as long as I can remember, but I never formally joined the gang that frequented the bars where I delivered. They tried to recruit me, but I never bit. I knew them, I hung with some of them, but I never rode with them.”
Mike nodded his agreement. He slapped Jake on the shoulder, “You always seemed like a good kid, Doc.”
There was some laughter at Mike’s use of the word kid to describe a fifty-five-year-old adult. He went on to share with us how he’d lost the use of his legs and couldn’t seem to find a doctor who could tell him why. I referred him to a phenomenal neurologist.
There was good-natured conversation, and we laughed and ate while Mike filled Jake in on some of the people they used to know. By this time, I wasn’t worried about Dustin or his friends missing me. It wasn’t too long after I’d sat down with Jake that Dustin began to look very cozy with my replacement. It was also evident that the whole table was getting seriously wasted. How was I going to make sure they all got home safely? For that matter, how was I going to get home? I’ll probably have to drive Dustin home and get his truck back to him tomorrow. I sighed and felt my shoulders sag.
The band had taken a break, so I excused myself to make another visit to the jukebox. When I returned to Jake’s table, there was a loud skirmish, and I realized with horror it was coming from Dustin’s crowd. A very drunk William was staggering toward two very scary-looking men. Dustin had followed him, and was trying to pull him back to their table.
“Ah, heck. Here we go again,” Mike said with a roll of his eyes. “You’d think that youngster would’ve learned his lesson last time. He’s gonna get the tar kicked out of him again. And his friends will too. The new owner should’ve banned him from coming back.”
From what I could surmise, the two men William was mouthing off to were bikers who’d exchanged words and punches with him on a previous occasion. “That kid started with them last time, and I’ve no doubt they’ll finish him and his friends this time. I need to call the law.” Mike’s tone held an edge of irritation.
I was horrified to think that Dustin was going to be involved in a brawl that he didn’t start. And worse yet, he didn’t stand a chance against the two threats who stood with clenched fists at their sides.
“Can’t you do something?” I pleaded to Mike. When Jake started to get up, I said, “No. Not you. I don’t want you involved in anything.”
“Dustin’s friend is an idiot. And there’s no time to wait for the law,” Jake said while looking down at Mike. Ignoring me, he continued, “I might need a quick escape.”
“You got it,” Mike said before pulling out a sawed-off shotgun discreetly tucked in the side of his wheelchair.
“Barbie,” Jake turned to look at me. There was a fire in his eyes that brooked no argument. “Take these,” he said, handing me his keys. “My truck is parked right under the sign, and it’s facing the road. You get in it. You start it up, and you lock the doors. Move over to the passenger seat and watch for me to come outside. When I do, unlock the doors. You got it?” His tone was one of authority.
I wanted to argue with him, to talk him down, to tell him that I didn’t want him involved. But I also knew Dustin and his irresponsible drunk friend didn’t stand a chance. T
hose two bikers would do a lot of damage before the police arrived. Something told me Jake knew what he was doing, and just like I never wanted anyone telling me how to run my operating room, I wouldn’t be telling Jake how to handle this situation, especially since I felt responsible for him being in it. By now, I could hear Connie screaming, and people were backing away from a scene that couldn’t possibly end well. A look of mutual respect passed between us. I gave him a reassuring nod and grabbed my purse. As I took off, I thought I heard Mike say, “Looks like you got yourself a real keeper,” to which Jake responded, “Yeah, I think so too.”
Chapter 20
Men and Women Can’t Be Friends
I’d only slid to my side of the truck minutes earlier when I turned and saw Jake approaching. That was fast. I unlocked the door and he jumped in. We sped off into the night, leaving a spray of gravel as he gunned the motor and we peeled out of the parking lot.
“What happened?” My hands were shaking. I could handle being up to my elbows in blood and bowels during surgery, but the thought of what might’ve gone down after I’d left the bar made my pulse race.
“Not too much.” He glanced over. “You okay, baby?”
I was still too shaken to let the endearment wash over me, and with a quivering voice, asked him to tell me the details. He described how he got between William and the two men and tried to make peace. “I told the two bikers that he was a punk and to ignore him. Mike came over and said he’d called the police and they would be coming to escort William out of the establishment. Then I offered to buy them a few rounds.”
“And they were okay with that?”
“No,” he laughed. “The big one told me to mind my own business.” Jake paused and shot me a look. “He used more colorful language though,” he said with a laugh before adding, “We had some words, and the other one took a swing at me.”
Before I could comment, he added, “He missed. I laid him out with one hit to the side of his face. Mike handed me his shotgun…”
I must’ve gasped because he said, “And I used it to smack the other guy across the head. They’re both out cold, but they’ll be okay.”
“Should we have stayed to give our statements to the police?”
“Mike didn’t call the police. But he let the troublemakers think he had. They’ll wake up with sore heads, and he’ll smooth it over with some free drinks. The new owner likes having Mike around because he knows how to deal with rough customers.”
“And what about William and Dustin?”
“Mike said he’d make sure they all get home safely.”
I turned to face him, leaning back against the truck door fully. Swiping a hand through my hair, I stared at his profile and said, “You seemed to handle this well. Like you knew what you were doing.”
“I’ve been in my fair share of unpleasant situations,” he offered. “And before you get your doctor hackles up, nobody got seriously hurt.”
I must’ve bristled at the comment because he went on to explain. “I know you’re sensitive to people getting hurt, especially when it’s a preventable injury.”
I reached across the truck and lightly touched his right bicep. “The only person who could’ve prevented this was William. Thank you for stepping in when you didn’t have to. And I’m kind of glad those two bikers will wake up with headaches. I’d have felt horrible if they’d hurt you.”
“And I thought it was Dustin you were worried about this whole time.” He glanced my way with a stern expression.
“Dustin and I are friends,” I said with a wave of my hand.
“Men and women can’t be friends.” His words left no room for argument.
“Ah, you must be a fan of When Harry Met Sally.”
“Never met ’em,” he stated.
I waited for him to follow up with a punchline from the movie, and when he didn’t, I realized he thought I was talking about real people.
“Harry and Sally are from a movie,” I explained. He didn’t respond. “You’ve never seen the movie When Harry Met Sally?”
He shook his head. “Never seen it. Never even heard of it. But if Harry is telling Sally that men and women can’t be friends, he’s right.”
“How could you have never heard of this movie?” I slapped my hand against my thigh and teased, “You must’ve been living under a rock for the past thirty years.”
I spent almost the entire drive home quizzing him on movies and pop culture, and instead of being appalled over how few movies he’d seen, I was secretly excited at his suggestion that we should watch some of them together.
There was a lull in the conversation, and for the first time, I noticed the truck radio must’ve been on the entire time. I heard a familiar tune and felt myself stiffen. Dolly Parton sang “I Will Always Love You” with her beautifully unique voice.
“Do you mind if I change the station?” I asked.
“You don’t care for Dolly?”
“I love Dolly. Just not this particular song,” I wouldn’t meet his eyes.
“Does your dislike of the song have something to do with Kenny?” he asked.
“I guess so,” I replied while nonchalantly fiddling with the radio. I would never admit it was the song that had been playing when I lost my virginity to Kenny so many years ago.
He remained silent while I found another station that played country oldies. I’d been reacquainting myself with all the songs I’d missed over the years. I smiled when “Check Yes or No” by George Strait came on.
He started to quiz me again on my supposed friendship with Dustin, so I took the opportunity to ask him about Dolly and Yvonne.
He gave a hearty laugh before telling me that he could see why I might’ve thought there was something between them. “You must not engage with the employees when you’re at Hampton House. If you’d chatted up any of the other women there, you’d know that Dolly isn’t interested in the man. She’s only interested in being the first to get the man. I guess she has something to prove. Poor kid.”
“Poor kid?” I humphed. “That poor kid did her best to humiliate me the day I bought her a helmet. And she was quick to make sure I knew you had a date that night.”
“I’m glad you don’t humiliate easy, Barbie.” His voice was filled with admiration. “And as for our date, she needed someone to give her a ride that night. I was only being nice.”
“She gave me the distinct impression you two had a thing.”
“Yeah, she gave a lot of people that impression, but it wasn’t true. If anything, that girl was like gum on my shoe. I couldn’t get rid of her.”
I laughed at his description and he told me that Dolly had finally given up and set her sights on the new respiratory therapist that visited Hampton House twice a week. “And Yvonne? I couldn’t help but overhear that she was making you dinner that day I ran into you.” There was no way I was going to mention that I’d spied him with her later that day at the flea market.
I saw him wince and scrub his hand down his face. “Yeah, Yvonne.” He turned to look at me, and if I hadn’t known better, I would’ve thought he was in pain. “I’m surprised you haven’t heard about that one, but I know you don’t hang around Hampton House to listen to gossip.”
I shook my head. “Nope, I haven’t heard anything about you and Yvonne,” I confessed.
“She told me there was a guy at a flea market that she’d bought a dresser from and that she had no way to get it home. The man kept offering to deliver it, but she felt uncomfortable telling him her address. She said that he seemed interested in her and she wanted to discourage him, so she asked if I wouldn’t mind taking her there and helping her load it in my truck. She wanted to pay me, and when I said I wouldn’t take her money, she offered to make me dinner.”
“Makes sense,” I admitted.
“Yeah, except that wasn’t her real intention.” He gave me a sidelong scowl before continuing. “When we got there she asked if I wouldn’t mind making it look like we were a couple so he wo
uld get the hint and leave her alone. Turns out, it was a guy she’d been out with a couple of times, and he’d dumped her. She kept showing up at his booth and did buy a dresser from him.” He rolled his eyes and let out a sigh. “She was using me to make him jealous.”
I stifled a smile. “Did it work?”
He shook his head and laughed. “I don’t think so. I’d never seen a guy look so relieved in his life.”
We finally turned onto my road and I was immediately on alert. I sat up, looking around the truck. “Do you smell that?”
“Smell what?”
“That metallic smell. I smell blood. Do you smell blood?”
He didn’t answer and, horrified, I undid my seat belt and slid over to him. He objected as I ran my fingers cautiously over his stomach and chest. They finally found their way to his lower left side right above the hip bone. He had a jacket bunched up and pressed between himself and the truck door. How hadn’t I noticed? He barely made a sound when I pulled the jacket away and realized it was soaked in blood. The look of pain he’d given me when I mentioned Yvonne didn’t have anything to do with her. Jake had been stabbed.
Chapter 21
It’s a Ball and Chain
“I can’t believe you didn’t tell me. We should’ve gone straight to the hospital,” I practically screamed.
“No hospital,” was all he said as we rolled up to my house. “And it’s nothing.”
“This much blood isn’t nothing, Jake. And neither is a stab wound.” I’d been enjoying his company so much that almost an entire hour went by without me noticing he had a severe bleeding wound. At this point, I didn’t know if I was mad at him or myself. He walked into the house without my assistance, and I directed him to a kitchen chair. I flipped on all the lights and grabbed my medical bag. I had what I needed to clean the wound and stitch it up.
