Rome

by Jay Crownover

  “Can I help you?”

  The redhead was long gone and Brite was making his way around the end of the long bar. The old guys stayed posted up and ignored the brewing hurricane like only lifelong drunks were capable of doing.

  “You trying to start something with my girl, GI Joe?”

  It was boring and so predictable that I had to roll my eyes. I had been in enough shithole places in the world to know that a bar brawl was a bar brawl, but throw in a wannabe biker and it could get really foul.

  “No. I was trying to get drunk, and she interrupted me.”

  I don’t think they were expecting that because a couple of titters ran through the group. Scrawny puffed up his chest and reached out a finger to poke me in mine. Normally I could just walk away from this kind of thing. I was typically a levelheaded kind of guy. I didn’t fight unless it was in defense of something I really and truly believed in, or in defense of someone I loved, but today was the wrong day to goad a reaction out of me.

  I swatted the guy’s hand away and did a quick survey of the room. I didn’t see any visible hardware, but bikers were known for stashing knives in hard-to-see places, and Brite seemed like a cool enough guy. I didn’t want to trash his place if I could help it.

  “Look, dude, you don’t want to do this, and I really don’t want to do this. We both know you sent the chick over here to try and start shit, so just leave it at that. I’ll bounce, and you and your buddies can go back to smoking up and shooting pool. Nobody has to bleed or look stupid. Okay?”

  In hindsight, trying to drunkenly reason with a bunch of bikers probably was bound to have a low success rate. Between one blink and the next I had a bottle broken over my head and found myself in a serious choke hold. Scrawny Guy looked like he wanted to kill me and the rest of his crew was just hanging back waiting to see what he could do. I didn’t really want to hurt the guy, but the bottle over the head had taken a nice chunk of skin off with it and a river of red was steadily flowing into my eyes. Just like with the red nail polish on the tramp’s fingers, the sight of my own blood took me to another place and time, and it wasn’t me struggling with a stupid, show-off biker, it was me battling for life, for freedom, for the security of my family and friends at home. Just like that, the poor kid had no idea what hit him.

  I already had a distinct size advantage on the guy; throw in the fact that I was a soldier who’d been battle-hardened and trained by the country’s best, and it got nasty and bloody fast. It didn’t matter that the numbers were so obviously skewed in the biker’s favor, I was getting out of the bar in one piece no matter what I had to do to make that happen.

  Bar stools were broken. Glasses went flying. Heads banged against the floor. I think at one point I heard someone crying, and somehow when it was all over I was hunched over with my hands on my knees, blood now dripping not only from my lacerated head but also my hands, and a nasty knife slice across my ribs. The bikers had scattered, for the most part, and I wasn’t surprised to see Brite holding a baseball bat and glaring at me.

  “What the hell was that?”

  I would have laughed, but I think the knife cut in my side was worse than I’d originally thought.

  “A really shitty ‘thanks for your service’?” My humor was not appreciated, as the older man swore at me and pulled me painfully into a standing position.

  “Doesn’t look like that little punk is gonna get patched in anytime soon.”

  I got a critical once-over and was met with a sigh.

  “You need a doctor.”

  It wasn’t a question.

  I tried to wipe the blood off my face with the back of my hand but just ended up smearing it all across my face while my side steadily leaked onto the floor.

  “I rode in. Don’t think I can handle the bike right now.”

  He shook his head at me and put two fingers in his mouth and let out an earsplitting whistle.

  “Everybody drink up and get out. Consider this last call.”

  A few diehards grumbled, but it only took five minutes before Brite was locking the front door, hauling me out the back door, and shoving me into the battered cab of an old Chevy pickup truck.

  I rested my head back against the seat and gave the older man a rueful grin.

  “I’ll pay for any damage to the bar. I’m sorry about that.”

  He snorted in response and gave me a narrow-eyed look. “Try not to bleed out before we get to the emergency room, son.”

  Like I had a choice.

  “The Sons of Sorrow hang out in the bar all the time. The old-timers are a good group of guys. A bunch of them are ex-military and get what my bar is all about, so I don’t usually gripe about them coming in. It’s all the younger kids trying to make a name who stir shit up. It wasn’t the first time blood has been spilled on that floor and I doubt it’ll be the last. You come see me when you sober up and get all sewed back together and we’ll talk about what you can do to repay me for the damages. Gotta tell you, you’re one hell of a fighter, son.”

  I would have shrugged but the slice on my ribs was starting to burn and I was having a hard time ignoring the sticky, warm blood oozing between my fingers, so I just grunted in acknowledgment.

  “I’m really not. I hate fighting, I did it for a living for too many years, but the only way to come out alive is to be better at it than the other guy.”

  I closed my eyes and silently prayed we didn’t hit any more red lights. My vision was starting to blur around the edges.

  Brite’s voice was gruff as we pulled into the parking lot of the emergency room. “That’s a damn shame, son.”

  I didn’t have a response because he was right. It was a shame.

  I didn’t get admitted right away. I guess a knife wound and a split-open scalp took a backseat to fingers blown off by fireworks on the Fourth. I didn’t want to keep Brite waiting, so I called Nash and left a garbled message that I was going to need a ride at some point in the night. I knew I should have called Rule or Shaw, but I just wasn’t up to dealing with that headache right now. And I knew Nash would come with no questions asked even if I had been a royal ass earlier in the day.

  “I gotta leave my bike at your bar tonight. I would appreciate it if you kept an eye on it for me in case Scrawny is a sore loser.”

  Brite nodded and again I saw that flash of white buried in that massive beard. “Well, I would say it was nice to meet you, Rome Archer, but of all the things I’ve been in this life, a liar has never been one of them.”

  We shook hands and I promised that I would touch base with him when I was in more functioning order.

  I had to wait longer than I was comfortable with to see someone, and by the time they took me to the sterile little room and pulled the curtain around the bed, I was pretty sure I was staying conscious by the sheer force of my will alone. I was peeling my ruined T-shirt off over my head when the curtain moved back and a really pretty nurse holding a chart came in. She had her head bent over whatever she was reading and it gave me the opportunity to check her out. She had long copper hair twisted in a braid away from a truly lovely face. She looked a couple of years younger than me, and I couldn’t help but appreciate that she was rocking some kick-ass curves under those boring scrubs all medical professionals seemed to wear.

  “Hey.”

  She looked up at the sound of my voice and blinked wide, dove-gray eyes at me. I don’t know if it was the sight of my naked chest or the fact that I was now covered head to waist in blood that had her looking apprehensive.

  “Hello, Mr. Archer. It looks like you had a rough night.”

  “I’ve had better, that’s for sure.”

  She snapped on some latex gloves and came over to stand beside me.

  “Let’s have a look at what kind of trouble you got yourself into, shall we?”

  She poked and prodded at my head and I tried not to stare at her boobs. She really was a pretty girl and it made the sting of her jabbing at my newest battle wounds hurt just a little less
.

  “What’s your name?” I didn’t really need to know it, I probably would never see her again after I got stitched up, but her eyes were just so soft and pretty I couldn’t help but ask.

  She gave me a friendly smile and looked like she was about to oblige me when the flimsy curtain was yanked back and Nash came barreling through. His cornflower-blue eyes were on fire with a mixture of anger and concern. The flames tattooed on the side of his head were standing out as the vein under them throbbed in irritation.

  “Do you have any idea the kind of hell I’m going to get from Rule when he finds out about this? Goddamn it, Rome, what the fuck is wrong with you lately?”

  I was going to respond when his attention switched from me to the lovely nurse who was staring at him with her mouth hanging slightly open. I was used to Nash’s dramatic look and larger-than-life presence. He and Rule had always drawn a lot of attention, so it never fazed me, but the pretty little nurse suddenly looked like she was seeing a ghost and it looked like Nash was trying to place where he might have seen her before as well.

  “I just need to get stitched up and then you can yell at me on the way home.”

  The nurse cleared her throat and tossed her now-bloodstained gloves in the trash. “You’re probably looking at staples for the laceration in your head. It’s pretty nasty and deeper than it looks. The slice on the side is pretty clean, so you might get away with just a topical, liquid suture on it. The doc will be in shortly.”

  Her entire demeanor changed with Nash in the room. I could tell he noticed something was off with her as well. He scrunched up his nose and stared at her until she was uncomfortable enough to look up at him.

  “Do we know each other?”

  She shook her head so hard that she dislodged the pen she had tucked behind her ear.

  “No. No I don’t think we do.”

  He scratched his chin and narrowed his eyes at her. “Are you sure? You look really familiar to me.”

  She shrugged and fiddled with the stethoscope that dangled around her neck. She was hot, and if I was so inclined, I could see working up some really nice nurse fantasies where she was the main attraction.

  “I get that a lot. I must just have one of those faces. I have to run. No rest for the wicked.” She gave me a little grin and disappeared around the corner, leaving both of us staring after her, me in pure male appreciation, Nash in puzzlement.

  “I swear I know that chick from somewhere.”

  “She one of your one-hit wonders?”

  “No. Maybe Rule’s pre-Shaw?”

  I snorted and contemplated the ceiling while my head and side continued to burn. “She seems too smart to fall into that category.”

  “Maybe. It’s going to drive me nuts until I figure it out. What the hell happened to you tonight? Picking a fight with Rule wasn’t enough, you had to take on a whole biker bar?”

  “’Merica!” I gave a bitter laugh at my lame joke.

  He scowled at me and took a seat on the doctor’s wheelie chair, dwarfing the thing.

  “Seriously, Rome. You need to knock this shit off.”

  I didn’t have to answer because the doctor chose that moment to come in. He was a guy in his fifties who clearly was at the end of a long shift because he was no-nonsense as all get-out and wasted no time in fixing me right up. When he was done he gave me a serious look and told me I might want to lay off the booze considering my blood test came back potent enough to start fires, and all I could do was silently agree.

  He scribbled a prescription for painkillers that I hoped I wouldn’t need to fill since I was already struggling with my reliance on another dangerous substance, and told me the nurse would be back in a few minutes to discharge me. I was stoked about having one more chance to get my flirt going, but as soon as she stuck her head back in, it was clear she was all business and wanted nothing more than to see us go.

  “Take care of yourself, Mr. Archer, and thank you for your service to our country.”

  She spun around to leave when Nash suddenly hopped to his feet and snapped his fingers. It made the nurse wince and made me frown.

  “I knew I knew you! We went to high school together, didn’t we? Aren’t you Saint Ford?”

  We could have heard a pin drop she went so still and got so quiet. She stared at him like he had just crawled out of the sewer.

  “I am. I’m surprised you recognized me, most people don’t.”

  He tilted his head to the side and gave her a considering look. “Why did you say we didn’t know each other, then?”

  She cleared her throat and fiddled with the end of her braid. She was clearly very uncomfortable with the conversation.

  “Because high school was a million years ago and I was a very different person then. It’s not a time that comes with the fondest memories; in fact I prefer to pretend it never even happened. I’m sure that’s not something a guy like you can understand. Have a nice night; try to avoid any more knife-wielding bikers if you can, Mr. Archer.”

  She swept out in a haughty cloud, leaving both of us dumbfounded and gaping at each other.

  “Whoa. Were you a dick to her in school or something? That was a whole lot of hostility for something that happened so long ago.”

  He shrugged and helped me get up onto my feet. I wobbled a bit from the mixture of alcohol and blood loss, so he didn’t let go until I was steady.

  “Probably. Rule, Jet, and I were a bunch of punks. Remy was the nice one.”

  “What do you mean, ‘were’? You probably teased her for being fat or something.”

  He had the good grace to look ashamed. “That is entirely possible. I wasn’t exactly in a great place when I was in high school either. There was too much stuff going on with my mom and that idiot she married for me to really give a crap about anything or anyone else. Man, that blows. She’s a total babe now.”

  I didn’t even consider putting my blood-soaked shirt back on as I hobbled out of the emergency room.

  “She sure is.”

  We got to Nash’s fully restored ’73 Dodge Charger and I slumped down in the seat. It wasn’t the worst Independence Day I could remember having, but it sure wasn’t one of the best either. All I wanted to do was crawl into bed and forget about everything, not that that seemed to be working out for me so great as of late.

  “Listen, dude, I’m sorry about today. I’ll touch base with Rule and make things right. I’m just a little off balance right now.”

  The massive motor rattled so loud it made my teeth hurt.

  “We all get that. You just aren’t giving anyone a chance to try and help set you straight.”

  “I’ll chill out.” I wasn’t sure how I was going to go about that exactly but I knew I needed to get on it. “You can tell the rabid pixie to back off.”

  He laughed. “No can do, my friend. Cora is like a pit bull; when she sinks her teeth into something or someone she doesn’t let go. You might want to try and apologize. She just wants to look out for all of us and she does a good job of it.”

  I closed my eyes and let my head drop back on the seat.

  “I remember when that was my job.”

  Heavy silence filled the car and I didn’t think he was going to say anything else about it, but after a minute he muttered, “You went off to save the entire world, Rome, we just did the best we could while you were gone.”

  Just like being a big guy often had its disadvantages, wanting to be a hero to everyone and anyone often had the same dangerous pitfalls. I got used to everyone needing me, to them relying on me, and now that I wasn’t needed anymore I simply didn’t know what to do with myself. That honestly terrified me more than any war zone or bar brawl with armed bikers ever could.

  CHAPTER 3

  Cora

  Summertime was always busier at the shop. It was the Tuesday after the ill-fated barbecue, and the ink bunnies were out in full force. The warm weather and lack of clothes led to people wanting to get all kinds of adornment in all kinds of in
teresting and visible places, and I swore to God that ever since Rule had officially gone off the market, the girls who came in to get work done specifically by him had doubled in number. I would never understand the allure of wanting something you clearly couldn’t have, but I had to admit it was a riot to watch them try to get it.

  The Terrible Trio were booked solid for the next six weeks, as were the other three artists who rounded out the crew at the Marked. I wasn’t as busy since I had to schedule appointments around my other obligations at the shop. Today a young guy had wandered in talking a big game about getting a full Jacob’s ladder, but hadn’t even made it past the point where he actually had to take his pants and underwear off to let me get at the goods. That happened a lot, so I found myself with an hour of downtime that I was using to stalk Jimmy on Facebook.

  For the last five years Jimmy only popped up in my mind when something or someone reminded me of him, but ever since that wedding invitation showed up in the mail, I was obsessed. It was like all the old hurt, the old embarrassment, was fresh in my mind and all the wounds he had left me with were opened back up and bleeding. I really owed that jackass a punch in the nuts if I ever saw him again. I hated to admit that the girl my ex was going to marry really was lovely and that they looked happy together, but then I remembered that he and I had looked that way as well at one point in time and it hadn’t kept him faithful to me.

  The guys were listening to some really loud punk rock and I wasn’t really paying attention because I was lost in my own memories when I realized someone was leaning on the counter across from me. The waiting area had people milling around waiting for their friends or family members to finish up with their appointments, but I hadn’t heard the chime of the bell over the door ring to indicate a new arrival. At first I thought it was a walk-in wanting to set up a consult, but it was only when I had to lift my gaze up, and then even farther up, that I realized it was not someone I was particularly happy to see. My feelings must have been reflected on my face because the hard mouth I was used to seeing in a harsh downturn actually kicked up on one side in a grin that transformed Rome’s entire face.