Cowboy Ending - Overdrive: Book One (38 page)

“Corona?”
Shelby asked when I got closer and rested my palms on the bar,
doing my very best to keep my eyes on her face.

“What else?” I
replied with my small smile as my belly rumbled hungrily.

She laughed
softly and walked down the bar, passing the only other person there
without a glance at him. Officer Don Mackie was also dressed in an
expensive black suit, only his tie was loose and the collar was
unbuttoned to mid-chest. He was seated on a stool and leaning
heavily on his forearms, his face unshaven with big black circles
under his eyes.

Shelby reached
the far cooler and purposely bent at the waist to open it as she
rummaged for my beer. Both Don and I enjoyed the show, which is
clearly what it was.

It would’ve
been impolite not to enjoy her efforts, right? Officer Mackie could
barely keep his eyes off her pert, swaying posterior.

Shelby stood
upright and sashayed back towards me with a bottle opener in her
hands and an impish smile on her overly red lips. Her fingers
circled the neck of the Corona carefully. Teasingly. With a slight
twist she popped the cap from the bottle and pursed her lips in
“surprise” at the froth that bubbled over her fingers.

Unsurprisingly,
Shelby usually made more money in tips working one night at the
beer tub than I did in two weekends of tossing out drunks. Little
tricks like that were the main reason why.

Life. It’s
rarely fair.

However, I
always tip for excellent service. So I was surprised when Shelby
frowned at me as I pulled a handful of bills out of my pocket.

“Don’t you
dare.”

“What?”

She put the
bottle down on the bar in front of me and leaned forward slightly
making it nigh on impossible to keep proper eye contact. Somehow I
managed.

Bless you
peripheral vision.

“Your money’s
no good here,” Shelby said, cocking her head at me slightly. “And
even if Aaron hadn’t made that perfectly clear to us, I wouldn’t
take it anyway.”

I blinked at
her. After two years of working in the same club I couldn’t
remember saying more than three or four words to Shelby at any one
time. This sudden friendliness seemed a touch out of character.

Her glossy red
finger nailed hands touched mine, and pushed them slightly away.
“You saved all our lives, Joe.” Her eyes were very big, and a deep
brown. Had I ever noticed that before? “Your money’s no good
here.”

She held my
gaze for a good second longer than she needed to. Was this a
signal? Am I getting a signal? Dammit why can’t women just tell you
what they’re thinking?

I nodded my
head slightly and pocketed my cash, saluting her with the bottle
before taking a long draught. The Corona was cold and delicious,
hitting my empty stomach like rain on a parched desert landscape.
It rumbled insistently at me as the beer poured down my throat.

After
leaving Cathy at the TV Station I had rushed to the Forks Market
along the river bank. In my haste to find a good place to toss the
acquired
Posse
guns I had
intentionally passed every food vendor on site. After finally
finding a secluded spot underneath the Norwood Bridge I made sure
there were no witnesses and hurled each gun as far as I could. They
disappeared into the black water and with any luck were on their
way out of the city by now, riding the current all the way up to
Hudson’s Bay.

I made my way
back to the van taking a different route through the trees, too
busy looking over my shoulder in every direction to even
acknowledge my rumbling tummy. Driving back up Waterfront Drive and
finding a decent place to park, I forgot all about how hungry I was
until the first taste of Mexican Magic hit my empty stomach.

And hit my head
like a tap on the back of the skull.

“Wow,” I
muttered, blinking rapidly. I stared at the bottle for a moment.
Only about a third of it was gone.

“You okay?”
Shelby asked, her smokers alto husky with concern.

I blinked some
more to clear my head, then met her eyes confidently and gave her
my small smile. “Yeah.” I took another sip, a much smaller one this
time, savoring the flavor. The head rush was much more manageable.
“Yeah. All good. Just haven’t eaten yet.”

Shelby cocked
her head to the other side, her lips pursing slightly again.
“They’ve got food upstairs for the guests. Sandwiches and
stuff.”

My stomach
rumbled in response. Loudly. Shelby blinked at the noise and gave
another small laugh. I shrugged slightly.

“Sandwiches
sound good.” I motioned my head behind me towards the stairs. “You
want me to get you one?”

“Don’t be
silly, I’ll go.” Shelby insisted coming around from the back of the
bar her spiked heels clicking loudly in the mostly empty room. She
threw another mysterious look over her shoulder that I had no
chance of reading anything into as her impossible to ignore ass
swayed away and started up the marble staircase. My eyes followed
her until she was out of sight.

“Damn,” I
muttered quietly sipping more beer. My head started to ache
slightly, so I rubbed subconsciously at my eye for a moment.

It had been a
long day.

“Bitches,”
Officer Mackie said suddenly from off to the side. His voice
slightly slurred and clearly bitter. “Bitches. All of them. Just …
Just a bunch of fucking bitches.”

I eyeballed him
from my perch. He wasn’t looking at me. Was barely looking at
anything other than the item he was twirling in his fingers, still
slouched over against bar.

“Beg
pardon?”

“They’re all
bitches,” Mackie repeated, still staring at his fingers. His voice
louder, obviously bitter. “All they do is ruin your life. No matter
how hard you work, how hard you try to … to provide….” He took up
the glass tumbler next to him, tilting it back until the amber
liquid was drained to the ice. He slammed it down on the counter.
“Bitches.” He muttered again.

Over Mackie’s
head I saw Officer Miller looking our way, still deep in
conversation with the Asian gentlemen. His face was oddly
tense.

My beer was
getting warm so I finished it in one pull. It hit me harder than a
single beer ever had before in my life, making me lightheaded for a
brief moment. I put down the bottle and rubbed at my eye again, the
ache I’d felt before started to get deeper.

“You shouldn’t
drink so much,” Mackie said drunkenly, with sincerity. Opening my
eyes I noted him looking at me, his fingers still twirling but his
attention on me.

“What?”

“In your
condition,” he clarified motioning towards me vaguely with his free
hand. “The pain meds and stuff the hospital gives after surgery.
Powerful stuff. Bad to mix in with booze.”

Huh. Drunken
advice from the drunken cop.

Made sense in a
perverse way.

“Maybe,” I
conceded. No point in mentioning I hadn’t taken a pain pill in over
a week, though I would’ve loved one now. My mouth felt dry and
tacky as my head began to pulse, throbbing in time to my grumbling
belly.

“S’good to see
you though,” Mackie continued, his voice slurring even more. His
fingers stopped twirling the item – a ring? – and placed it in the
front pocket of his suit jacket. “After what happened here things
got bad. Bad here. Bad at the shop. Reports …” He shook his head
sadly. His eyes were very red, completely bloodshot. “Reports had
to be filed. It was a mess.”

Odd.

“Well .. sorry
my getting shot by street gang members made you file paperwork back
at the station.”

I might’ve been
a touch sarcastic.

Mackie’s face
twisted. “Well you should be sorry. All that paperwork put us in a
position, made us responsible for things. Things that started
questions.” He was angry now as well as bitter. “It’s hard making
child support demands on a cop’s salary already. You think I can
afford it if we lose all this?”

Officer Miller
had excused himself from the Asian gentlemen, waving some female
distraction over while he made a beeline for the main bar.

I kept a cool
eye on him as I prodded. “Lose all what?”

Mackie clammed
up, knowing he’d slipped. Guilt on his face.

“Lose all what,
Officer Mackie? This club? Your cut of it?”

“You don’t
know. Shit … “ He reeled back on his stool, eyes widening. “You
hadn’t been brought in yet. You don’t know what …”

“Don!” Miller
barked roughly a few seconds before clapping a big meaty hand over
Mackie’s lean shoulder. He landed it up high, over the trapezius.
Going by the way Mackie winced and gasped, I had no doubt that
Miller was applying his very own Cro-Magnon Nerve Pinch.

“Don,” he
repeated more calmly, giving me a patently false smile. Way too
many teeth. Looked predatory. “You gotta stop talking when you’re
drunk. We’re tired of hearing you whine about your ex.”

Mackie’s wince
lessened slightly. Muttering “Bitches,” quietly under his
breath.

Miller’s eyes
never left mine. His toothy smile never wavered. My head began to
pound but I tried to ignore it, keeping my poker face up as I
stared right back at the Sherman Tank disguised in an expensive
suit.

Chapter
36

I hate staring
contests.

Even when you
win, what have you really won? But once you start one they’re hard
to stop.

Stupid macho
bullshit.

Miller
definitely was into the intimidation game and who could blame him?
I know I’m big but this guy was ridiculous. Slightly shorter than
me but almost double wide. I couldn't imagine how many bolts of
cloth it took the tailor to get a custom fitted suit put together
for this guys’ torso. I wear a fifty-four inch jacket but Miller’s
blazer would’ve been a tent on me.

For
myself all I wanted was to keep up the stoic front. Mackie’s
inadvertent admission was resonating strongly in my mind with the
things the
Posse
members had
said. Nothing specific obviously, but given all the money Aaron had
thrown around for these private parties it was clear that something
was up. Hell, the suit Mark was wearing easily cost more than a
month's worth of bouncing. The type of individuals being wooed and
just the fact that Miller was trying to intimidate me while keeping
Mackie silenced spoke volumes.

But above all
else I needed to remain focused. My headache was rapidly increasing
in intensity and the hunger I was used to feeling was quickly
turning uncomfortable. Similar to when you’ve got the flu, only I
knew my stomach was empty. I had to roll my tongue around in my
mouth to get some moisture flowing, the tacky sensation increasing
by the moment.

Bottom line? I
felt sick.

I
never
get sick.

The last time I
remembered throwing up at all was over ten years ago after an
alcohol induced evening. Sure, this time was similar. But one
beer?

Insanity.

Thankfully
Shelby returned a moment later, the clicking of spiked heels on
stone flooring announced her arrival before she appeared in my
periphery. Once she did Miller and I turned to watch, the staring
contest unofficially declared a draw as something more fun to stare
at sashayed forward.

Shelby smiled
politely at Miller and Mackie as she approached, handing me a plate
and some napkins. A huge over stuffed sandwich on fresh rye bread
with pickles resided there, the scent of which actually made my
stomach roll instead of making me salivate.

My face must’ve
betrayed me as Shelby looked concerned. “What? Is this okay?”

Clearing my
throat was suddenly an issue, the lack of moisture making it hard
to speak. “Great,” I coughed. “ No, it’s great. Just bit of a
headache.”

“Do you need
Aspirin?”

I nodded. “If
you’ve got it. And some water please.”

Shelby nodded
quickly and went back behind the bar. I put my sandwich next to my
empty beer bottle and leaned heavily against the bar with my hands,
fighting to keep my arms locked straight and my head upright.
Miller was watching me intently, his grip on Mackie not
lessening.

A small tumbler
filled with water and two pills appeared on the bar as Shelby
peered up at me with concern. "You going to be all right?"

My fingers
trembled slightly as I scooped up the pills and pushed them past my
lips. I managed a brief nod to Shelby as I got the glass to my
mouth. Water spilled down my chin, but enough made it into my mouth
to wash away most of the grit in a glorious cool wave. Relief rode
that wave down my throat all the way to my stomach. I blinked in
surprise, the sudden onset nausea abating a bit. My head still
throbbed like a four hour erection but just that one mouthful of
water was enough to bring me back a sense of control.

I stared at the
glass of water in my hand for a moment.