Brendan laughed and the two walked across the street from Schmidt’s to where Trish’s neon lights beckoned all-comers. Inside, the same bartender from a couple of days ago welcomed them warmly and asked what they wanted before they even reached the bar. Apparently Brendan’s mauled face didn’t faze the young woman, because her smile didn’t skip a beat as he ordered a bottle of Shiner, while Michelle opted for a frozen margarita. While they waited, Brendan and Michelle alternated between looking at each other and glancing around the bar aimlessly. Blind dates probably went smoother than this. The bartender returned and Brendan paid cash. Armed with alcohol, the pair found a booth in the corner.
“So you read any good books recently?” Michelle asked. Both of them cracked up a bit, and the laughter vented some of the odd anxiety between them.
“Yeah, John Scalzi’s got some great sci-fi stuff I’ve been into recently. What about you?”
Michelle grinned. “Between Twilight and Fifty Shades of Grey, I’m set for life.”
“I have no idea what those are, so I’ll have to take your word on it.”
Michelle set her drink down, a look of disbelief on her face.
“Are you serious? Where have you been the last six years?”
“The Marines.” He took another drink from his beer.
“Not much time to read girlie stories in the Marines?” she asked, emphasizing girlie.
Brendan chuckled. “Not really, no. I’d never hear the end of that from the guys.”
The televisions around the bar switched channels suddenly, and a silent broadcast of recent high school football highlights played. Brendan’s mood dipped down at the sight. The bartender appeared, asking if they wanted another round. She glided away when Brendan nodded darkly.
“You follow the Coyotes at all while you were gone?” Michelle asked him, so engrossed in the highlight reel that she hadn’t noticed his change in demeanor.
“No.” He tried to keep a lid on the can of worms rattling around.
The bartender appeared with their drinks. Michelle didn’t seem to notice as her empty glass was traded out for a full one.
“Me and Grant go to almost every game still,” she continued, totally sucked into the TV.
“Good for you.”
Michelle quietly drained most of her second margarita while the broadcast continued. The conversation was apparently on hold for now, so Brendan’s eyes naturally roamed where they pleased. Damn, she was attractive. Her flannel blouse hung open just enough to show she was only wearing a bra and no tank-top underneath. Even her slender forearms and graceful neck drew Brendan’s attention. Had he noticed all of this a decade ago? Shit, if not, he’d been freaking blind.
The show went to commercials, and Michelle turned back to Brendan. He wondered if she’d remember why he wouldn’t give a crap about the local high school football team. A few beats later he saw the light go on behind her eyes. She stared down at her now empty glass, blushing a bit. Brendan took the opportunity to wave to the bartender for two more drinks.
“Grant likes watching the games?” Brendan asked.
Michelle looked up and nodded. “Yeah, he does, but sometimes he finds it a little hard to watch,” she said. “Especially if he thinks he was better than the QB out there.”
“He still get really pissed off about that?” Brendan asked as the bartender showed up with their order.
“You know how it is,” she said noncommittally. Her eyes drifted back to the television on the wall.
He watched her staring at the TV screen, which still silently cycled through commercials for new trucks and barbeque pits. The marketers definitely knew the audience in Shallow Creek, but what worried him was the faraway look on his friend’s pretty face.
“Grant ever hit you, Michelle?” he asked casually, before taking another sip of his beer.
Her drink froze at her mouth. She slowly turned to him and put the slushy margarita down. Maybe it was just the result of the two drinks she’d thrown back in no time, but her cheek’s reddened again.
“No, he wouldn’t ever hit me,” she whispered, eying the bar’s other occupants. “And you shouldn’t say things like that so loud.”
“He had a mean streak in school.”
“He changed after you left.” She leaned against the backrest of the booth’s bench seat. The alcohol flowed in her tone now. Brendan had only put away two and a half beers, so his decision making wasn’t affected, but he knew he was about to embark on an unwise conversation.
“I was surprised when you married him.”
“Why’s that?” she asked, not looking happy.
“Bit creepy, that’s all.” He took another swig while she glared at him. “He was already out of school when you were a freshman.”
“So what? It’s not like we dated in high school. Four years difference isn’t weird for consenting adults.”
“I leave town and my brother hooks up with my best friend,” Brendan said. “You think that’s normal?”
“You didn’t have any claim to me.” Her anger grew with each swallow of sugary tequila; Brendan could see it in her eyes. “We knew each other for years, and you never asked me out.”
“And I’m only back in town for three days before you ask me out?”
“Are you fucking serious, Brendan?” she snapped, adopting the overly loud voice of someone who’s had three margaritas in thirty minutes. Brendan gave no response, instead opting to take the last swig of his beer.
“You’re unbelievable,” she said. “You’re just jealous.”
“Of what?” He knew he should just end this and go home. Unfortunately, that wasn’t going to happen. “Things must be going real well in Casa del Rhodes if you’re going on dates with your husband’s brother while he’s out of town.”
“I don’t need this.” She got up, grabbing her purse in the process. Brendan remained at the table for a moment, irritated with both himself and Michelle, but most of all furious at his brother for sins past and present. One look over his shoulder revealed a dozen pairs of eyes following Michelle from the bar.
Screw it. He couldn’t leave things like this. He drove the bottom of his clenched fist into the thick wooden tabletop and found both pain and relief. Instantly feeling more centered, he got out of the booth and followed Michelle towards the back of the bar, wondering where she was headed; her truck was parked out front at the diner. The patrons of the bar watched, some concerned, some smiling. Brendan dismissed them and pursued Michelle out through a backdoor positioned between the doors to the restrooms.
Now in the alley behind Trish’s, this little blowup had gone far enough. Brendan gently grabbed Michelle’s arm, trying to maintain his cool and not hurt her unintentionally. She was drunk, and still his friend, no matter what. Her face still prominently displayed all the fury such a small package could handle, but Brendan didn’t care. All of a sudden he just felt the need to hold her in his arms. When Michelle didn’t immediately recoil from him, he slowly wrapped his arms around her.
“Oy, you,” came a familiar voice from behind him. Brendan spun quickly, knowing immediately that despite his best intentions, someone was about to get hurt.
Chapter 16
Standing next to the bar’s dumpster was Mohawk, and Brendan wasted no time. Conditioning took over and he charged at the man, knowing he’d probably need to withstand at least one good smack from the man’s club. The man’s smirk turned upside down comically at Brendan’s rush, but Brendan wasn’t laughing. The club glanced off his shoulder as he drove the tattooed Englishman up, and then straight down into the dirt. If he’d stuck around in high school football, his coach would’ve been proud of him.
Michelle screamed behind him, but the bloodlust had taken over. Brendan ripped Mohawk off the ground and slammed the man’s face into the corner of the dumpster. The disgusting crack said it all. Brendan let Mohawk slump lifelessly to the ground, grabbing the club out of his limp grip.
Facing the other way now, Brendan g
ot a good view of some thug struggling to contain Michelle, as three others approached Brendan warily. Seeing their leader’s head caved in probably sent an intimidating message, but two of these idiots hadn’t listened too well. They charged Brendan, but unlike Mohawk, he wasn’t skittish. His club cracked the first guy’s head across the path of the second, knocking both to the ground.
As the guy on top of the pile tried to get up, Brendan was on him, grasping the man’s head between his hands and then slamming his knee into the bridge of the thug’s nose. A muffled cry resounded from behind the man’s hands as he fell, covering his bleeding face.
Brendan turned to the man holding Michelle, who’d stopped thrashing about. Her wide eyes displayed shock at Brendan’s violence, but that was how shit got done. He wasn’t about to let these dickheads cheap-shot him again. Sensing movement to his left, he pivoted and connected his boot to the side of the head of the man he’d clubbed down moments ago.
The guy restraining Michelle started to drag her down the alley, saying, “Come on, Jasper.” The only other thug left on his feet looked from Brendan to the other guy a few times before hesitating, and then bolting. As he passed his counterpart, that dipshit let go of Michelle and followed suit, running like his life depended upon it.
That much was probably true, with the murderous rage coursing through Brendan’s veins. As he walked towards Michelle, who looked absolutely dazed and confused, he could feel the supreme tension that just begged for one more moron to come at him. Instead, he had to just grit his teeth and clench his fists in an attempt to relieve the pressure.
He watched the two fleeing men retreat all the way around the far corner before addressing Michelle.
“You okay?”
She stared past him at the two unconscious men, and the one still writhing, gripping his face. Brendan tapped her on the arm and repeated the question. This time she looked up at him.
“Uh, yeah,” she stammered. She rubbed her arm where the thug had grabbed her.
“You sure?”
“I’ll live.” Her eyes fell back on the unmoving bodies. “Are they dead?”
Brendan followed her gaze over his shoulder. “I don’t think so, but it’ll take more than Advil to cure those headaches.”
“You think this is funny?” She stared at him now the same way people did when he told some of his old war stories. In the past he’d tried to explain to them that he wasn’t insane, but civilians couldn’t understand that. All they saw was a guy who glorified violence, even when that violence was all that separated them from the realities of the real world. People just had no idea what life was like outside the soft, cushy boundaries of their bubblegum existences.
“No,” he responded evenly. “It’s not funny.”
She brushed past him and approached the three downed men cautiously. The one still conscious slowly got to his feet and started weaving his way past the crates strewn behind the bar. Every muscle in Brendan’s body wanted to chase him down and maul him unmercifully, to confirm the threat was contained, but one glance at Michelle’s face told him that was a bad idea. He let the guy go. Michelle didn’t seem to notice the man at all as she stared at the other two.
“Do you recognize them?” she asked.
“Just the one with the Mohawk,” he replied, standing next to her now. “You know him?”
“I’ve seen him around.” She crossed her arms tightly. “Kind of hard not to notice someone like him around here. I don’t know his name, but he hung around my cousin.”
“Good enough for me.”
Brendan ushered Michelle quietly back through the bar and out the front towards her truck. When she moved towards the driver’s side door, he gently redirected her to the passenger side.
“You look like you’re in shock,” he said. “Why don’t I drive you home?”
She nodded as he opened her door and helped her up. He walked back around the truck and got in behind the wheel. As soon as he turned the key in the ignition, the chair automatically started shifting forward to Michelle’s preferred position. With his knees jammed up against the dashboard, Brendan managed to reach over and shift the seat all the way back again. Feeling more comfortable now, Brendan backed the truck out and headed down the road.
Cruising silently towards Michelle’s house, the fight behind the bar replayed repeatedly through Brendan’s head. A couple of things didn’t really make sense, like how did they know he’d be there? Maybe they’d been spying on him and saw the two of them head into the bar. Hell, they could’ve had a guy inside the bar watching them and he’d never have known; he didn’t recognize most of these thugs at all from his previous life in Shallow Creek.
One other thing bugged him as he pulled into Michelle’s neighborhood, and it wasn’t just the close proximity of her neighborhood to Taryn’s.
“Did that guy call you Jasper?” he asked, not taking his eyes off the road.
Michelle turned away from the window.
“What?”
Now Brendan glanced her way as he navigated towards the houses.
“Sounded like the guy called you Jasper as he was pulling on you.”
“Must’ve heard wrong.”
“I know what I heard,” he said.
“And I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about. Are you implying this is my fault?”
“No,” he said. “Damn, chill out. It was just weird.”
“Weird that maybe the other guy’s name was Jasper?” she said, obviously pissed. “After what you did to those other guys, you don’t think they both just wanted to get away?”
He tried to steer the subject elsewhere. “Why mess with you anyway?” She glared at him, not offering any explanations. “Think about it, what could you do? All five should’ve attacked me, but instead they went for you.”
She popped her purse open and revealed a snub-nosed .38. When Brendan didn’t respond, she smiled, but not kindly.
“Guess I’m not a helpless damsel in distress.”
“Why didn’t you pull it then?” Brendan stopped the truck in the street. He had no idea which house was hers.
“Shut up, Brendan.” Alcohol and anger was a volatile mixture. She thrashed at the door handle, trying to get out. Eventually she took a deep breath and composed herself before successfully unlocking the door and exiting. Brendan got out and met her in front of the truck to give her the keys.
She snatched them from his hand and stormed off down the street.
“You want me to come in and make sure it’s all clear?” he yelled.
“Keep the hell away from me.”
He waited in the street until she walked up to a double wide on the left and let herself in. He’d just saved her life, maybe, and that didn’t even warrant a wave as she disappeared from view.
Realizing that Michelle had picked him up from his parents’ house earlier, Brendan sighed dejectedly and started the long walk home.
Chapter 17
Brendan winced as he reached for the handle to the beer cooler. Fighting those guys the night before hadn’t felt that strenuous, but he’d managed to aggravate every injury from getting his ass kicked a few days ago. He’d woken up this morning feeling like one big bruise, so he made the gas station the first stop of the day to get his favorite remedy: Shiner Bock. His dad only drank Coors Light, which might as well have been flavored water as far as Brendan was concerned.
The frigid air escaping from the open cooler was a welcome relief from the heat outside. Even at this time of year, the thermometer in his truck exceeded ninety degrees Fahrenheit without much trouble. The dry heat was an improvement over the humidity in a city like Houston, but it was still unpleasant.
He grabbed a six-pack, but then returned it and grabbed twelve instead. As the door swung close, someone called out behind him, “Hey, stranger.”
When he turned, he expected to see Michelle again, but the friendly tone should’ve been the first hint that it wasn’t her. The woman smiling at him as she appro
ached resembled Michelle very closely, but Brendan quickly realized it was her younger sister.
“Howdy, Kim.” He tried not to be too obvious about taking her all in. Her father, Mr. Prost, had been a complete ass-wipe, but damn, he could make some pretty daughters.
As Kim got a good look at Brendan, her smile turned to concern.
“Oh my gosh, what happened to your face?”
“Michelle didn’t tell you about my little run-in with your cousin, Scott?” And why hadn’t Michelle told him that Kim still lived in town?
The bell over the door rang.
“Hey, Kim—”
Brendan looked past Kim to the open door and found a familiar lady staring at him, stuck in midsentence.
“We’ve got to stop meeting like this,” Brendan said, trying to keep the growl out of his voice.
Casey approached tentatively as Kim’s gaze switched between her and Brendan. “Y’all know each other?” Kim asked.
“Did you get the license plates on the truck that ran you over?” Casey asked, ignoring Kim and scrutinizing Brendan’s wounds.
“Yeah, I did. Scott was driving it. He didn’t mention it?”
“You know Scott—?” Kim started, but Brendan cut her off.
“How did you two meet, Kim?”
“We met at the park,” Kim said uneasily. “At the running track.”
“I didn’t realize it was such a popular hangout,” Brendan said, eying Casey.
“I run a lot, so I’m going to meet a lot of people there,” Casey explained nonchalantly before turning to Kim. “I was getting gas and saw you come in here and just wanted to say hey, but I’ve got to get going.”
“Oh, okay,” Kim said. “See you later, then.”
“Sure,” Casey said. “See you later. You, too, Brendan.”
Brendan grunted in response as Casey strode back out through the door.
“That was awkward,” Kim said, smiling a little.
“It happens,” Brendan said. “So Michelle didn’t tell you I was back?”
Shallow Creek Page 6
