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In moments I'm on the road, on my way to Club Red. I know I told her I'd give the place up. And I absolutely will; I just need to make one more visit there.
I don't remember the drive or even parking as I walk up the front steps to the door of the club. The bouncer nods and steps aside, allowing me into the club, and I make my way into the front room. I see him standing there before he even walked into their room, and I make my way to his side. Touching his shoulder with one hand, I wait for him to turn before smashing my knuckles into his throat.
He grabs his neck, his eyes bulging as he stares at me with rage and hatred. Because he's bent forward, I grab his ear with one hand and pull him close with enough force to make his face contort in agony.
“You are not going to talk to her anymore. You are not going to harass us anymore. You’re not going to call me or stop by my place. Do you understand?”
He nods his head in agreement, but I need to drive home just how serious I am. “If I see you again, I won't pull my punch next time.”
Somehow his eyes widen even more as he realizes the implication of what I'm saying. With that, I let go of his ear and push him away. A couple of bouncers materialize at my elbow, and I lift both hands in surrender. But to my surprise, instead of grabbing me, they both grab him and guide him toward the door, but not before Arson steps in close and speaks into his ear.
Even though he's standing a few feet away in a loud club, I can see his lips move and know exactly what he’s saying. “You’re no longer welcome here. If you show up again, you’ll be removed by cops instead of these nice men.”
With that, they manhandle him to the front door, and he's pushed out into the sunshine. Arson heads my direction, a smile on his face as he claps me on the shoulders. “Things suddenly make so much more sense. I'm just not sure why you made my wife give me the missing pieces.”
I chuckle as he puts an arm around me and we both head for the bar. We both order a drink and he leans a hip against the bar, facing me, his expression curious.
“So, the way I see it is that Methew knocked up your girl years ago. After you left him with egg on his face, he never forgot you. Then you took his backup girl, the one that got away that he fell for that night. So not only does Methew remember you, he fucking hates your guts and wants you dead. Or suffering, at least.” He hesitates, as if hoping I'll give him some clue, but I'm not about to let him give up this fun storytelling adventure. And he continues speaking. “So he starts harassing and antagonizing you. Maybe he doesn't even care about her, but he can't let anybody else have her... and especially not you.”
That's a little hurtful, I'm not going to lie. What's wrong with me?
But I keep quiet, sip my bourbon, and listen to him speak.
“And you're the one that's in love with Alisha. Did I get that right?” He grins, and I can't help but burst his bubble.
“Sounds to me like Laurel figured it out.” I take another sip of my drink, watching as the fireworks happen behind his eyes. Then he catches on that I'm messing with him and he shakes his index finger at me.
“Okay, you might be right. Don't tell her I tried to take credit for her genius.” He chuckles, downing his drink in one quick gulp. “Is it true? You two in love and going to tie the knot? Can I expect a wedding invitation?” He’s rapid firing questions at me and my brain hasn’t even caught up to the fact that he knows the whole truth.
“I haven’t asked yet, she hasn’t said yes yet, but hopefully if everything works out, then yes.” I know my response is fragmented and disjointed, but I'm not feeling particularly articulate right now.
As it is now, I'm just now recognizing that my knuckles hurt from punching Methew. I'm not sure why I have a delayed reaction. Adrenaline maybe? But here we are.
I gently rub my knuckles before finishing my bourbon. Today has been strange all around and I have plans to make things stranger, because why not? Life is fun and crazy and what’s the point if I don’t let myself live a little?
I glance up, and right on cue, Laurel walks into the room with the bouncers.
“What the...?” Arson says as his wife and the bouncers begin clearing out the first room. Some patrons opt to leave, others venture deeper into the club, and I smile at Laurel. She gives me a wink and Arson glares at me.
“Do you want to tell me what the hell is going on?” he asks.
I most certainly do not. In response, I lift my glass, realizing that the bartender refilled the damn thing. Good, I’ll need the liquid courage. Arson clearly does not appreciate my response as he gives me an I’m done with you look and makes his way to his wife’s side.
That's fine, I'm about done with me too.
A few moments later, both Laurel and Arson walk up on me. “Everything's ready.” Laurel sounds excited, but Arson just sounds frustrated.
“Everything what? What are you two planning?”
Laurel gives him a playful glance. “You think I'm going to tell you so you can take credit for that too?”
My mouth drops open and I stare at Arson, waiting to see what he's going to say next.
“You're lucky I love you,” he says, leaning in to kiss her.
“I know,” she says with a smile, kissing him again. “And you're lucky I put up with you.”
He nods his head in agreement before turning and looking at me. “That's the missing part. He knew that Alisha was working for you. That's why he was being such an asshole.”
