Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (21 page)

There was a
long landing up at the top of the stairs. A couple of small
cocktail tables and chairs, for guests who liked to be above the
action but still wanted the feel of the club. An honest to goodness
red carpet covered the landing. Nothing plush or lavish. But
definitely red and definitely carpeting.

The double
doors ahead of me were expansive and solid oak, complete with huge
brass handles and an old fashioned key lock. Above the handle a
more modern deadbolt apparatus had been installed. Odd. All of the
sensitive papers and petty cash was kept downstairs in the office
above the main bar. They have a safe for that.

I shrugged it
off and sipped some beer, reaching out to try to doors.

Locked.

Of course.

Not knowing
what else to do, I pulled out one of the steel chairs and sat my
tired ass down. Trying to relax against the balcony railing near
one of the cocktail tables. Patiently examining the door and the
landing.

I stayed there
a good ten minutes. Nursing that beer but good.

I scanned all
over, trying to keep my mind busy and off the weirdness of the day.
My abdomen still ached from where it hit the treadmill and was
likely bruising up something fierce. And then that whole weirdness
at the studio. The thrumming. The tingling.

My head started
to hurt faintly.

I gripped my
bottle tight and chugged the rest of my beer. It was piss warm now.
But it was still beer and that meant it was good.

Feeling more
calm I closed my eyes and tried to relax. I needed to talk to Aaron
before heading home. Mom would be fine for another few hours. Hell,
I would normally be stuck at work until after five o’clock taking
pharmacy orders from American patients.

It was nice to
just relax some. Enjoy the cool air of the ancient stone
building.

No noises,
aside from the faint sounds coming from the boys tidying up
downstairs.

No
distractions, no people asking me questions or needing my help with
things.

No bright
lights, the old school chandelier hanging from the ceiling was
dimmed to the lowest setting.

Just …
peaceful.

For a moment I
almost fell asleep in the uncomfortable steel chair, my arm resting
on the landing’s railing.

Then I felt a
thrum.

Very tiny.

Like a tickle
in the back of my head.

I snapped my
eyes open. Terrified. Sitting up in my chair like a shot.

Still nothing
around me. No people. No nearby sounds.

So what was
causing ….

You ever
played with magnets in school? Really basic science classes as a
kid? I remember being given those old silvery, polarized ion rocks.
One end stamped
N
and the
other stamped
S
. While most
kids had a terrific time trying to force the ends with the same
polarization together (and failing of course) I was always
fascinated by figuring out the range of attraction for the metal
filings we got to play with. Trying to determine just the right
range before the pieces would begin to tremble and slide across my
desk, increasing in speed until they would smack into the
lodestone.

I would do that
over and over, pretending I was Luke Skywalker in the Wampa’s cave
on Hoth. Imagining the magnet was my outstretched hand, desperately
trying to access the Force to bring that lightsaber to bear.

Yes, I’m a
geek. Let’s move on.

The thrumming
sensation made me feel like one of those metal filings. It was very
faint, but pulling at me.

I scanned the
landing again, still nothing stood out to me. Skimming my eyes over
the huge double doors the thrumming suddenly increased slightly,
pulling my gaze upwards. To a spot directly above the doors.

Standing up out
of my chair, I walked up to the doors. My eyes locked on the spot
just at the very center of the doorframe.

Something
glinted at me.

A camera
lens.

I stared at it
for a few minutes, my brain churning in thought.

There
were cameras all over
Cowboy
Shotz
. This wasn’t a surprise. When that many people
come into a place like this, you need cameras for security and
insurance purposes. Only makes sense.

But none of
those cameras were hidden. Not like this. All of the other cameras
were in obvious places. Wanting to be seen. An extra layer of
security to remind fools that everything they do in the club will
be recorded and used against them. Hell, that’s why I was here.
Hoping to understand why the video footage at the main entrance
wasn’t enough to keep my shooter in jail.

This camera was
buried. Hidden in a very delicate manner. There was a ridge in the
doorframe, part of its artistic design that had a planned dip. At
the very center of this dip a tiny camera lens was visible but only
if you really looked for it.

“Huh,” I
grunted.

The thrumming
sensation abated somewhat but remained very faint in the
background.

Seriously, what
the hell is going on with ….

Voices.
Muffled, but loud. Shouting?

Not quite
shouting. Heated for sure.

And coming
closer.

“…
did you
expect to happen?”

“That’s not the
point, and you know it.”

“Est’ce ti Tabernac
, do not be such an
imbecile.”

“For the love
of God, Chris. This is going to seriously impact business.”

“Not if we keep
our heads. We are taking care of things on our end. All you have to
do is …”

At the last
moment I realized that the voices were right at the door. And there
I stood like a teenaged peeping tom trying to catch a glimpse of
the MILF next door.

I took two long
steps away from the door, snagged my empty beer bottle off the
table and made a big show of looking out over the railing as the
door opened behind me.

“All right,
we’ll maintain the status … Joe?”

Miming one last
sip of beer as I turned back, hoping my face wasn’t red in
embarrassment. I gave my small smile.

Aaron stood
there, dressed casually in an expensive pair of jeans and polo
shirt combo. His eyes were a little wild, but going by how his
voice had just sounded it was clear his emotions were high.

Officer Parise
stood next to him resplendent in a shirt and tie with a matching
blazer folded over one arm. His badge and gun were visible on his
belt, his free hand making a quick twitch towards the pistol in
surprise at my presence.

I tilted my
empty bottle to them both in a friendly salute. “Hey.”

Both their
faces visibly relaxed.

Aaron stepped
over first for the bro hug. “Goddamn, Joe. What are you doing
here?”

“Had some
things to talk about, figured in person is always better.”

Officer Parise
stepped over and offered his hand politely, his eyes examining my
face. “Good to see you on your feet. Been waiting long?”

Subtext hung
heavy on the innocuous question.

Did you hear
anything you weren’t supposed to?

Again, what the
hell is going on here?

“Been waiting a
few minutes,” I admitted. An easy lie to have discovered, so no
point in hiding it. “No big deal. I guess Aasif didn’t tell you I
was here.”

Aaron blinked,
fishing a smartphone out of his pocket and giving it a quick
glance. He grimaced. “Shit man, sorry. We were having a discussion
and I missed the text.’

I shrugged
again. “All good. Got a few minutes?”

Aaron and
Parise exchanged a quick look.

“Sure, Joe. Of
course. Chris why don’t you take him downstairs while I finish up
here?”

“Very
well. Let’s get you another beer,
mon
ami.
”

Parise grabbed
at my elbow gently and turned to lead me back to the main floor
while Aaron went back through the doorway, shutting it tight behind
him.

Some silences
are awkward. Others are bearable.

This one was a
bit tense.

“Thank you,” I
said.

He
blinked at me. “
Pourquoi?
”

I cleared my
throat uncomfortably, genuinely embarrassed. “I understand you’re
one of the guys who helped keep me going ‘til the paradmedics
arrived.”

Parise smiled
at that. “But of course, my pleasure. That was a scary thing.”

“Everyone keeps
saying that.”

“It’s true. I
have been a cop for many years, but shooting scenes are always
terrifying.”

We crossed over
to the main bar where Aasif already had another ice cold Corona
waiting for me. I grabbed it gratefully and saluted the officer
with it. “Well thanks again. I wouldn’t be here without your guys’
help.”

Parise leaned
against the bar casually, his smile faint but modest. “It’s what we
do,” he said motioning with one hand between himself and I. An
inclusive gesture.

I frowned. “I
ain’t a cop.”

“Not a cop. A
protector.”

I scoffed.

Parise smiled
wider. “It is true, Joe. You and me are much alike. We both put
ourselves at risk to help others. Often for very little
reward.”

“That’s silly,”
I said with a barked laugh. “You guys do real legwork and track
down criminals.” Parise nodded, accepting the statement. I motioned
out towards the dance floor with a disdainful flick of my fingers.
“I hang out here for a few hours every weekend watching fools get
liquored and occasionally get into fights.”

Parise nodded
again. “There are similarities though. In both instances we serve
the public, to keep them safe.”

I stared down
at my beer bitterly for a moment. “I’m just here to serve myself,
man. Pay my bills.” I looked him dead in the eye. “I could give a
fuck about the drunks who come in here.”

“If that were
true,” Parise said quietly. “You wouldn’t have needed me to save
your life.”

Yeah, I had no
response to that.

Aaron joined us
a few moments later, carrying an envelope in one hand. He handed it
to me, it felt thick. Heavy.

“Am I your mail
boy now?”

Aaron laughed
lightly. “Not at all. That’s for you. Consider it an advance on
your next few weeks of work.”

I hefted the
envelope slightly, curious to open it but at the same time
hesitant. “You don’t need to do this, man. I knew the risks.”

“Take it, Joe.
You’ve more than earned it.” He smiled and motioned to Aasif.
“You’re the most level headed bouncer I’ve ever had and you’ve
always done the right thing. This isn’t hush money. It’s
gratitude.”

I thought about
it a bit. Something felt odd in my gut about accepting it. But then
the thought of bills piled on the kitchen table at home overrode my
concerns. I pocketed the envelope.

“Thanks.”

“Aasif, another
round.”

Parise pushed
off the bar with a sad smile. “None for me, thank you. I am still
on duty after all.”

“Right, of
course.” Aaron looked at me. “Just you and me then.”

I eyed the beer
already in my hand, figured that I still had to walk a few blocks
back to the mall to snag my van from the lot. Grab a little food as
well (my stomach rumbled at the prospect of that). I’d be good to
drive. “Sure, one more.”

“Well, if you
gentlemen will excuse me…”
“What happened with the kid?” I broke in as Parise tried to take
his leave.

Parise froze,
glancing quickly at Aaron. “The kid?”

“Yeah. The one
who shot me.”

Aaron’s lips
pressed tight together and he looked away. Parise to his credit met
my gaze head on.

“You heard
then?”

“What
happened?”

Parise took a
moment to collect his thoughts, something he’d likely done dozens
of times in court when helping out the prosecution on cases he’d
made arrests for.

“Keimac
Cleghorn was released today because we screwed up. Badly.”

I blinked in
surprise but said nothing.

“After
the shooting occurred,” Parise continued. “Don, Gerry and –
pardonnez moi
. Officers Mackie,
Miller and myself arrived on the scene and assisted in restraining
the attackers.”

Aaron nodded.
“It was a good thing they were there, Joe. Things went haywire in a
hurry.”

“Unfortunately after all of the
Native Posse
members were restrained Officer
Miller took things too far. Too personally. He assaulted the
accused when he was no longer a threat.”