Page 40 of Wrecked

“He’s gone?” I ask, referring to the biker.

“Yeah,” Ron says. He walks back to his post in the back of the bar.

I look out the front window at the girls walking away. I really would prefer it if they had a ride. I have no idea what they took or when it’s going to kick in.

“Damn it,” I say to myself.

I walk out the front. I can’t in good conscience let them go, no matter how bitchy and immature they might be. I look to the right and see them in the parking lot, doing exactly what I was hoping they wouldn’t do. They’re talking to the drug-dealer biker.

“Change your mind?” He pushes off the streetlight he was resting against and stands upright. “Three’s a crowd, but four’s a party.”

Ignoring him, I look to the girls. “Why don’t you come back in? I’ll give you a ride home myself.”

People are walking from their cars toward the bar, about to start their night to party. I give them a smile as they pass. The biker doesn’t seem to care if he has an audience or not. His attention is solely fixed on me and the sliver of skin showing between my shirt and shorts.

His heavy boots thud on the concrete as he moves closer, making a clomping sound with each step. The closer he gets, the bigger he seems. He squeezes his dark brown eyes and slowly licks his front teeth. “I bet I could show you a real good time.”

He raises a hand toward my cheek, but I force it away.

“Don’t touch me.”

He gives another smirk. His voice is low and a little raspy. “You’re missing out on a golden opportunity. With your connections in there, we could push a grand a night, easy.”

He takes a step closer, and I fall back, catching myself on the side door of a car. A glimmer of sweat beads on my chest as my nerves catch up to me. The smell of leather and something sweet permeates off his body and into the air, which is odd because he’s not wearing leather. I’m about to call out to Juice even though he’s inside the front doors when an arm comes flying out and shoves the biker back.

Adam pushes me to the side and goes after the guy again. The biker falls back, and Adam is on top of him, yanking him up by the collar and hauling him toward a police cruiser.

The girls run off. I yell out to them, but it’s no use. One look at Adam, and their fear of being arrested just overwhelmed any sense of clarity they might have had.

“What the fuck?” the biker asks as Adam cuffs him.

He pats the guy down and reveals a screwdriver from the back pocket. He holds it up to the biker’s cheek.

“Is this to clean your pipe?” He then digs into a front pocket. He pulls out what looks like mini water balloons and a Ziploc bag of pills. He gives the guy a second shove.

“What was that for?” the guy asks, his face smooshed into the metal of the car.

“For being a fucking scumbag!” Adam reads him his rights and slams the door with a velocity so powerful that I’m surprised it doesn’t fall off.

He turns around and stalks toward me. “Damn it, Leah, what the hell were you thinking?”

His body is ignited, full of anger, with his shoulders up and hands clenched tightly. He’s red-faced and tight-jawed. I can feel the heat of burning rage pouring off of him.

Juice and Paulie come rushing out of the front entrance.

“What’s going on here?” Paulie asks, his chest puffed in alarm. “Are you okay?”

I nod to let him know I’m fine, despite the fact that my heart is beating wildly in my chest and I can’t seem to catch my breath.

Turning back to Adam, I shudder as I speak, more affected by the incident than I initially thought, “He was dealing inside my bar. We kicked him out.”

Adam points to Juice. “You let her come out here with that piece of shit?” he shouts, irate, eyes wild with accusation and disgust.

In an act of bravado, Juice starts toward Adam, but I hold my arm out to him.

“I came out here to take care of those two girls who fled when you showed up. Now, they’re off gallivanting with pills in their system.”

“What were you planning to do? Take them home? They would have just gone out again and did whatever the hell they wanted.”