Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (20 page)

“Allegedly.”

The thrum began
to tingle.

“What?”
“Allegedly saw him shoot you. As he was improperly arrested and
assaulted on site in front of witnesses by off duty officers. As
such his actions are officially of an alleged nature.”

I smoldered. My
heart beating angrily and the tingle growing stronger.

“So they let
him go?”

“Yes they
did.”

“And you want
to know how I feel?”

“I do.”

My hands
gripped the arms of the chair firmly and I worked very hard to
control my breathing. That thrum was getting impossible to ignore
and I began to feel warm, my neck tingling in time to the thrum in
the air.

At that moment
I knew something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

And I was
afraid I was about to become the lightning rod for something
terrifying.

All around me I
could feel the thrumming sensation. No longer in my head, but along
my skin. In my scalp. Hair standing on end, like the familiar
adrenaline induced gooseflesh I am used to. But more intense. And
all over.

Something was
building around me and the news that my attempted killer was loose
on a fucking technicality had pushed me to the edge.

I couldn’t
answer her. I was too busy trying to control my breathing, to bring
down my heart rate. To gain control.

Cathy leaned
in, reaching out a hand to mine. “It’s okay Joe. You don’t have to
…”
A spark leaped from my knuckles to her palm with a hissing crack.
Like when you build up a static charge by scuffling your feet on
the carpet during a dry day. You have that latent charge running
through your body and then sneak up behind a buddy and zap em.

Everybody
laughs.

Nobody laughed
this time.

Cathy gasped in
surprise, lurching back and away from me clutching her hand to her
breast.

The lighting
grid around us that Jimmy and Kurt had spent so much time setting
up for this interview went dead.

Jimmy stepped
back from his suddenly powered out camera while Kurt threw off his
headphones, the boom microphone bombarding him with a painful
squealing.

I jumped up out
of my chair. Staring at the scene around me. Over in the production
area, a few people had turned to see all the ruckus. Same from the
administration end. People peering around corners and whispering
amongst themselves. A few interns began making their way over.

The disruption
was minimal, only to the immediate area of the set. Nothing
appeared to be damaged overtly. None of lights had burst and there
was no smoke in the air.

“Cathy,” I
muttered turning to her. I reached over to her, anguish written all
over my face. “Dammit Cathy, I’m…”

“I’m so sorry,
Joe.” She said, wringing out her hand with a faint grimace. “We’ve
been having power issues like crazy since the snow began
melting.”

I blinked.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Kurt
acknowledge, rubbing a finger in one ear to clear it. “I’ve blown
two panels this week alone.”
“It’s half the reason why we took so long getting things set up
today,” Jimmy cut in, examining his video camera. “Hydro says it’s
something to do with the old cabling leftover from when this
building was a power station. With the extra humidity in the air
and the ground it can cause surges.”

Cathy stood up
next to me and let me look at her hand. No damage. I breathed a
sigh of relief. “The boss has a couple of high end surge protectors
on back order. Should be in by the end of next week.”

I stared at her
blankly. “So, you guys are all right?”

Jimmy and Kurt
waved at me, making with variations on the manly rebuffing of all
things weird and painful. Cathy looked away from me shyly.

I was still
holding her hand between mine.

Smooth.

I cleared my
throat and pulled away, running my fingers through my dry, frazzled
hair. She stepped back as well, making a show of adjusting her
skirt and blazer.

“Think you got
what you need?”

“We got lots,”
Cathy said, skimming over her cards once again. “We’ll probably
have too much for a simple two minute segment. I’m hoping to get
permission to put together a full fifteen minute special for the
weekend cast, complete with footage from the scene and the
rest.”

“Okay.”

I stood there
awkwardly for a moment. Then picked up my gym bag and swung it over
my shoulder.

Cathy grabbed
my arm before I could go.

“I really am
sorry, Joe.”

“Hey, shit
happens.” I said hurriedly, trying to shrug it off. I had to get
out of there. The thrumming sensation had died away, but the tingle
still remained. And coincidence was getting hard to ignore.

“No, about
telling you like that.”

I blinked.

“About the
shooter?”

She nodded.

“Yeah.”

The shock had
faded slightly and I was able to be rational about the news.

“He really got
released?”

“This
morning.”

“All charges
dropped?”
“More or less.”

I raised my
eyebrow inquisitively.

“One of the
officers was seen knocking him unconscious after he was already
restrained,” Cathy elaborated, a look of disgust on her face. “In
the eyes of the law that negates his arrest.”

“And
negates his attempted murder?”

She raised her
arms outwards in a helpless shrug. “This is why I’m a reporter and
not a lawyer. It doesn’t make sense to me either.”

I said nothing.
But I did it loudly.

“What?” she
asked.

I shook my
head.

“I gotta
go.”

“Joe, if you
need to talk …”

“I don’t.”

I turned away
and stalked out of the studio, people parting out of my way.

Chapter
17

What do
they call it when you get a chill up your spine for no
reason?
Somebody just stepped on your
grave
.

Is that it?

Well, you get
the same feeling when you stand in the spot where you should have
died.

The snow
was almost melted away from the curb in front of
Cowboy Shotz
. The light post to the
right of me was rusted some at the base. More than before? Hard to
say. I never really gave a damn about how the sidewalk
looked.

Police tape had
been removed from the scene of course, but fragments of cellophane
remained on spots if you cared to look for them. Separate from the
tape used to hold up event posters for bands and rival
nightclubs.

So much blood
.

That’s what
Tamara said. Not a drop of it remained in front of me. Scrubbed
clean. Possibly by the weather, but more likely by Aaron’s cleaning
crew. Nothing turns off party goers more than bloodstains at the
main entranceway.

I stood there
for a long time. Staring down at the pavement. The mid-afternoon
crush of people flowing around me, paying me no mind. I paid them
less.

Pain.

Shouting.

Light.

“Stay down,
asshole.”

“Joe!”

Pain.

“Joe!”

I turned.
Aasif stood in the entranceway to the club. Astonishment on his
skinny face.

“My God, Joe!”
He opened the door wide and motioned me forward. “Come in, man.
Come in.”

I nodded and
let him usher me inside.

It was dark,
and quiet. The old bank was practically a tomb when the lights and
music weren’t blaring at top levels. The air smelled of alcohol,
both the cleaning kind as well as the stuff found in bottles behind
the bar.

Aasif wasn’t
alone. A few of the bar backs were in early with him, doing the
frantic last minute tidying and restocking before the Friday night
open in a few hours. Aaron was very particular about cleanliness,
at least in the hours before people crowded in. Once the hundreds
started packing the joint from wall to wall rules tended to get
situational.

The bar backs
waved at me from the side, a few of them coming over for handshakes
and pleasantries. I didn’t know these guys all that well but they
all knew me, which wasn’t really a surprise I suppose.

Aasif clapped
me on the shoulder and turned me into a bro hug, which is always
more awkward with a narrow shouldered and skinny dude. Less beef to
keep the belt buckles twelve inches apart. Still, well
intentioned.

“Damn, man.
Mark was saying you were up and about, but look at you.”

I gave him my
small smile and shrugged slightly. “Go right ahead.”

Aasif laughed
and led me over to the bar, motioning me to take a lean as he went
around back. “You want a beer or something?”

“If it’s cold I
want a beer.”

He dug into the
fridge and pulled out my favorite.

Frosty cold
Corona, no lime. Clean, crisp and delicious.

It had only
been two weeks but it tasted like forever.

I pounded half
the beer in one draught, then paused to press the cool glass bottle
against my forehead. A genuine smile on my lips. Amazing what the
simple pleasure of a cold beer does to my demeanor.

Don’t judge me,
I’m Irish-Canadian. If our blood alcohol level drops too far we get
ornery.

“It’s real good
to see you, Joe.” Aasif said, leaning towards me on the other side
of the bar. “It was a scary night.”

“Tell me about
it,” I muttered.

He
nodded. “People were real freaked out. We had to shut down early
and everything.”

I raised my
eyebrow at him. “Well, I should hope so.”

“No no, of
course we were going to do that,” Aasif said apologetically. “I
meant that it turned into a real scary scene trying to hold people
inside so that the paramedics and police could do their jobs.
Questioning witnesses and the like.”

I could easily
imagine it. Trying to keep people inside the club when something
violent happens is a nightmare. Everyone’s first instinct is to run
for safety, unaware of how badly they were getting in other peoples
way. Being able to keep a crowd calm meant the difference between
life and death for victims of a beating. Giving people space to
work, to breathe and the like.

“Like you
said,” I muttered, taking another sip of cold Mexican perfection.
“Scary stuff.”

“No doubts.” He
leaned back, letting one of the bar backs pass by carrying two
cases of beer. “At least you’re okay, man. Seriously. You’re
looking good.”

“Thanks.”

“When do you
think you’ll be ready to get back to work.”

I chuckled and
sipped more beer. “I’ll let you know when I know. But not
soon.”

“No, of course
not. Just know we’re always happy to have you back, man.”

“I bet.” I
drained the beer gratefully. “I need to talk to Aaron. Is he
here?”

Aasif motioned
behind me with his head. “Yeah. Upstairs. But he’s in a meeting, so
give him a few.”

I looked back
over my shoulder to the marble staircase to the penthouse area.

“Okay,” I said
pushing off the bar. “Beer me, I’ll wait over there.”

Aasif laughed
and dug out another Corona for me before turning back to the job of
getting the club ready for the night’s festivities.

Strolling
across the empty dance floor I eyed the staircase askance, trying
to enjoy my beer. At the foot of the staircase I paused, leaning
against the cold stone wall.

I’d been
working for Aaron off and on for a number of years. At other clubs
he’d managed before he’d up and opened
Cowboy Shotz
. I’d been here with this crew for
about two years and had never been up these stairs before. Not
once.

It wasn’t like
forbidden or anything. I was just always working. And when working,
this staircase perpetually had velvet ropes blocking the steps
telling folks to go party elsewhere. Which was fine, most everyone
did. For after parties, select bouncers had been asked to stick
around and hang out upstairs in case of trouble. Like Aaron had
asked me about the other night.

Still.

I looked back
into the main bar. Aasif and his helpers were busy puttering
around. Paying no attention to me.

It was a long
assed staircase. Two flights in one, over fifty feet straight up.
I’d never noticed the artistic designs on the walls before, though
since I’d never been up here before I don’t know why I was
surprised. Again, this building is from the turn of the twentieth
century and architectural standards back then were loaded with
artsy-fartsy ideas and designs.
They also built things to last, that’s for damned sure.