“Talk,” he growled.
“I heard about everything,” I said. “I got a fucking medal for what happened. People shaking my goddamn hand. Telling me I was some kind of hero. They fucking had the fire trucks out and shit for me. Like a goddamn parade. But I couldn’t get that scene out of my head. What you said to me. What all happened. I lost my edge, Jim. That’s truth. I figured you would recover, no matter what. You had Big Jim on your side. Shit, I wished that man was my father. And your sister. You had her. I didn’t want to come crashing into your lives with my stuff. Fuck, listen to me. I sound like a fucking bitch right now.”
I stopped talking. I wasn’t going to sit there and throw excuses around.
So then there was silence for a little bit.
We passed the bottle back and forth.
Then Jim asked, “How’d the MC thing happen?”
“Brotherhood,” I said. “Long story. Saved me.”
“Can’t ride with one leg, huh?” Jim asked.
“You could do anything you want,” I said. “But you don’t need me to tell you that. You’re choosing this right now. You’re choosing hell.”
“I went to hell and it never left me.”
“We all did.” I paused. “You saved two men’s lives. They have families now. They’re happy. Healthy.”
Jim looked at me. “I couldn’t get to Bill.”
I felt my heart starting to race. I didn’t like to do this share your war story bullshit. I gritted my teeth. Rage filled up inside me. I had to stand up. I wanted to take an ax to that fallen tree. No. A gun.
“Sometimes I imagine if I did…”
I spun around and grabbed the bottle of whiskey from Jim’s hand. I cracked it against the railing, breaking it. It was just like at the clubhouse with Cash. My hand wrapped tight around Jim’s shirt and I put him against the steps.
I looked at the bottle and let it go.
“You want to do it?” I growled. “Is that what you really want? Get rid of the demons? Huh? I have a gun with me, Jim. Take a walk. Meet your maker.”
Jim made a growling sound and then spit right in my face. I let him go and stepped back. A second later he pulled himself up to his feet. He raised his fists and nodded to me.
A half smile crept on my face as I nodded back.
The door opened and Belle stood there. “What was that sound?”
Me and Jim ignored Belle.
Jim came right at me, tossing a weak right to my jaw. I barely moved.
I swung back, hitting him in the gut. He jumped back, losing balance, and I grabbed the back of his shirt.
“Come on, asshole!” I growled.
“Stop!” Belle cried out.
Jim lifted his head and thrust his forehead, smashing my nose. My eyes filled with water and then Jim got me with a good left, right combo. It sent me back and I tasted blood in my mouth.
He hobbled at me, swinging a left. I blocked him and got a nice hook to his nose, opening him up. The fucking asshole would have better balance if he had taken the time to learn how to walk with his new leg. I could picture him in my mind being a stubborn prick about it.
Jim punched quick and hit me in the shoulder. My bad shoulder.
I let out a cry and jumped back. He got me good, breaking me open, leaving blood on my shoulder.
“What the fuck?” Jim asked.
“I got shot,” I said. I put my fists back up. “You done yet?”
“You got shot? When?”
“Shut up, Jim,” I said. “Hit me. Come on. Fucking hit me.”
We closed in on each other when I felt a stinging pain on my cheek. I looked to my left and there was Belle. She was damn crazy. She swung again and slapped me square in the nose. Then she showed me that she picked up the broken whiskey bottle.
Jim got one last punch at me before the fight truly ended.
I was goddamn in disbelief.
I slowly showed my hands. “Okay, sweetie. Take it easy.”
“What is wrong with both of you?” she screamed. “You were shot?” She looked at Jim. “And you only have one leg!”
Jim started to laugh. He had his deep, cocky laugh that got on everyone’s nerves. Except mine.
I started to damn laugh.
Belle dropped the bottle, tears in her eyes, and turned to storm away.
“Ah, shit,” I said. “Belle!”
She ran away crying.
Shit, I had seen that scene so many times as a kid with her. Me and Jim one time piled up her dolls and lit them on fire to watch their faces melt. Man, we were fucked up kids.
I looked at Jim.
We nodded. A sign of respect.
“Don’t ever waste my whiskey again,” he said.
I watched as he hobbled to the back steps and climbed them.
And there I was, outside and alone, bleeding, in the last place I ever thought I’d be.
I really shouldn’t have wasted that whiskey.
**
Jim was on the couch, his eyes shut. He crashed freaking hard. I wished there was more I could do for him, but there was nothing. No book, no doctor, none of that could help what was swirling through Jim’s mind. It was the hardest damn thing to explain. The fantasy and dream coming true, being the worst of a nightmare you ever thought possible, and then you’re left teetering in and out of that nightmare.