Page 11 of Money Shot

VINCE

July 1st,2014

I did my best to open my eyes and tried to focus on my surroundings. The unfamiliar room was dark, illuminated only by the streetlights shining in through the cracks between the blinds. After a few long minutes of my eyes adjusting, I tossed my legs off the side of the bed and attempted to stand.

With each breath I took, it felt as if a knife was being inserted into my chest. I sat on the edge of the bed and searched my mind for memories of what had happened. After a few more minutes of confusion, I recalled the events of the Sunday night that got me to where I was.

A disagreement about a parking spot turned into a fight, and the fight was over almost before it started. The mouthy – and very disrespectful – driver of the truck was put in his place with half a dozen quick punches and a short choke hold. The other three passengers in the truck were a totally different story. While holding the driver in a choke hold and doing my best to explain the benefits of being respectful – all the while attempting not to actually choke him – one of his three friends blindsided me with a punch. Before I knew it, I was on the ground being kicked and stomped by three cowboys.

As they laughed and turned to walk away, I cut the calf of one of them. Through the leg of his jeans – and from the back of his knee to his ankle – I dug my knife as deep as I could, dropping him to the ground as he turned to walk away. As his two friends carried him away, I crawled to my bike and rode the three blocks to the closest place I knew to go.

Assuming I was still at Sienna’s home, but not sure of anything, I once again tried to stand. As I moaned in agony and relaxed on the edge of the bed, the bedroom door opened.

“Don’t you dare try to get up,” she said as she opened the door.

Although I couldn’t see her clearly, her voice was enough for me to know who she was. After a short and almost blind stare on my part, the bedroom light came on.

“Got to, I got a job I got to do tomorrow,” I said as I shaded my eyes with my hand.

“Tomorrow being Monday?” she asked as she walked to the edge of the bed.

I sighed softly and nodded my head. “Yeah.”

“I don’t understand how in the hell you do anything without a phone, and it’s Tuesday, so you’re a day late,” she said harshly as she stood in front of me with her hands on her hips.

“Fuck. Tuesday?” I asked as I glanced upward.

She sat down beside me and cleared her throat. “Technically, yes. It’s about 1:30 am. And Monday’s passed, so yeah. It’s Tuesday. You’ve been asleep on and off for twenty-four hours.”

“Swelling’s gone down quite a bit, and the stitches look pretty good,” she said as she closely inspected my face.

“Stitches? You stitched me?” I asked as I reached for my face.

She slapped my hand away from my face and shook her head. “Don’t you dare touch it, it’ll get infected. And, fuck no, I didn’t stitch you. You’d look like some pieced together sock monkey if I did. I got a nurse and a PA over here and they took care of you.”

I gazed down at the floor, swallowed heavily, and nodded my head. At the time, I only wanted to get somewhere where I felt safe. Coming to her house was inconsiderate on my part, undoubtedly unexpected on her part, and troublesome at the least.

“Look, I don’t want you thinking I’m some weirdo, ‘cause I’m not. You live two blocks from the busiest intersection in this city, and although I don’t live close to here, I ride by here a couple times a day…”

“Save it,” she interrupted.

I shook my head. “No, just hear me out.”

“Some of the fellas run in packs, and some hang out at the clubhouse and do whatever comes up. I’m a loner. I mean, I’m loyal to the MC, and I love the brotherhood, but I run alone. I just don’t trust people. Not really,” I paused, inhaled a shallow breath, and winced from the pain.

She shook her head and tilted it toward my mid-section. “He said you probably have cracked ribs. Based on the boot prints, anyway.”

“Feels like it,” I coughed.

“How many stitches?” I asked as I raised my hand toward my cheek.

Another slap of my hand and a sharp exhale reminded me of her obviously protective nature.

“Thirteen on the big cut, and I think four on the small one,” she said as she leaned in front of me and inspected my wounds.

“You look a lot better than you did,” she said.

I shifted my eyes toward the floor. “I’ll pay for whatever it cost. You got friends in the medical field, huh?”