He stared into Andy’s face a moment longer, mentally tying his fists to his sides so they wouldn’t reflexively jab up and under Andy’s chin. Andy stared right back at him, not moving a muscle.
“I don’t know how we got off to such a bad start,” Andy said evenly. “We got a lot in common. I mean, just look at her – we’re obviously both into the kinky shit. Now, I can’t speak for you, but I would definitely consider tapping that once, at least. Call it curiosity or whatever, but I’d go there. I mean, can she even feel anything down there? Cos if not, maybe foreplay isn’t really necessary y’know? Or maybe that’s out of the question completely – could be that she’s more of a giver than a taker, if you catch my –”
Suddenly, Andy careened away from him in a tangle of arms and curses. Jack bulldozed him across the pavement and slammed him up against the nearest wall, face-first. Callum, his brain struggling to make sense of what just happened, could only stand and watch as Jack leaned in close to Andy, whispering something. Then he spun him around to face him, punching him so hard that Andy’s head rebounded off the wall with a sickening crack.
Callum stood, frozen, as the scene unfolded before him. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn that wasn’t Jack, but someone else. As long as he had known him, Jack had never been a fighter. He was the voice of reason, Callum was the one with the temper. Watching him now, though, Callum could see that something had changed.
“That’s assault!” Andy gasped, blood pouring out of his nose and dripping off his chin. “You’re gonna be sorry you did that – just like he was!”
Jack glanced over at Callum and his blood ran cold. What the hell was going on?
Jack turned his attention back to Andy, punching him again and sending him careening sideways. He reached down to haul him to his feet before driving a hammer punch into his ribs, doubling Andy over.
Callum tried to reconcile the Jack that stood over Andy now, with the friend he once knew. The two seemed worlds apart. As teenagers, they had brawled once, and it had been while Jack’s mother was going through chemo. Jack hadn’t had the skill or experience that Callum had, and it was over with one punch. Callum had put it down to stress and they never spoke about it again.
But this was different. He hadn’t had time to think about it at the funeral, but watching him now gave him chills. Jack fought like a pro – he knew where to hit, when to hit and when to dodge. His body moved differently. He seemed calm, even when he delivered a blow. He was calculated. It was chilling.
Jack hauled Andy to his feet yet again and pushed him out into the street. Andy staggered, hunched over with his arm held close to his ribs. He glanced up at Callum briefly, blood pouring from his nose, dark in the streetlight, before stumbling down the street towards his car.
“Why’d you do that?” Callum asked, rubbing the back of his neck.
Jack cradled the knuckles of one hand in the palm of the other. “He deserved it.”
Callum stared at him, trying to read him.
“I heard what he said, about Ally,” Jack added. “He’s an asshole, nailed to a pair of feet.”
Callum smiled in spite of himself. That was Tom’s expression and they both knew it.
“I don’t know about you,” Jack said finally. “But I could do with a drink.”
Callum nodded slowly, the blood still rushing in his ears. If he didn’t know better, he would have sworn it was nerves. He had no idea what had happened to Jack in the last four years, but the guy standing in front of him wasn’t the Jack he thought he knew. This guy could hold his own in a fight. This guy had an almost dangerous air about him, hidden right beneath the surface. This guy had some explaining to do.
“Yeah,” he said. “I could do with a drink right now myself.”
Jack sat in a booth inside Barney’s, rubbing his aching knuckles. Callum waited at the bar, while Harry poured their drinks.
The bar was almost empty, except for a guy Jack thought he recognised propping up the bar, and a couple of guys he didn’t know playing pool across the other side of the room. One of them laughed loudly and Jack cringed as the sound echoed through the room. He couldn’t help but think that he and Callum used to spend hours in here playing pool, just like them. Life seemed to be split into two distinct chapters: before the accident, and after the accident. It seemed like it was a defining moment, for all of them. After that, everything changed.
Callum walked towards him with two beers in one hand, and two shot glasses in the other. He set them down on the table and sat down opposite him. Without a word, both men picked up the shot glasses and downed them in a single gulp. Jack glanced up at Callum as the fiery liquid burnt its way down his throat, wondering what was supposed to happen next.
He had come in here with a plan, but the fight outside the bar had upturned everything and he wasn’t sure what to do now.
He rolled the empty shot glass between his palms on the table. “Who was that guy?”
“Andy McLeish. Works at the mill.”