Font Size:  

It’s like seeing a ghost.

Tyler holds the man down and punches him in the face, knocking the man unconscious. Once the guy is down for the count, Tyler turns his attention to the two men beating on Blake. Tyler grabs a handful of one of the guys’ shirts and lands a hard right square to the nose. This frees Blake up to fight the other man, and now that it’s an even two-on-two match, the bikers no longer have the upper hand.

Tyler and Blake work in unison, and once they have control of the situation, they drag each of the bikers toward the door and throw them out one by one before locking the front door of the bar.

I take a moment to check Blake’s face. Blood drips from his nose and there’s a pretty decent-size gash over his right eye. “Are you all right?”

His tongue darts out and he licks the corner of his busted lip. “Yeah. I’m good.” He turns his attention to Tyler, who stands there watching us curiously. “Damn, man. You’ve got some kick-ass timing. Thanks for jumping in there and saving my ass.”

Tyler grins and holds his hand out to Blake and they join hands and do that weird guy handshake-hug thing. “Anytime. When I first walked in, I wasn’t sure what in the hell was going on, but when I saw Avery jump on the one guy’s back, I knew shit was out of control. I figured you guys wouldn’t be opposed to me jumping in and knocking some heads around to help out.”

Hearing Tyler say my name brings back a flood of old memories. It’s been three years since I’ve seen him in person.

Tyler’s gaze shifts in my direction and my breath catches as I try to think of something to say to him.

The reunion is cut short, because minutes after the bar is empty, red-and-blue lights shine through the window. I open the door and the cops quickly jump out of their cars, running toward the men who are stumbling around in the parking lot.

“Freeze. Get down on the ground,” one of the officers shouts at the bikers.

Tyler and Blake flank my sides as two of the officers work on detaining the men we just kicked out while another man in uniform approaches us. He’s a short man, with a stocky build, whose dirty-blond hair pokes out beneath his hat. I’ve met him a few other times when I had to call the police to break up a couple fights in the bar.

“Avery,” the cop greets me.

“Good evening, Officer Ryder.”

I’m not sure if it’s a good thing or not that we know each other’s names since he needs to come to my place of business so often.

“We had a report that there was an altercation here. Can you tell me what happened, Avery?” He clicks his pen and is ready to write down my side of the story.

I clear my throat and begin explaining how we were trying to close up and Blake announced last call, and how those particular men refused to leave, and then engaged in an altercation with my bouncer.

He nods and makes some notes on a pad of paper he has in his hands and then turns his attention to Blake. “Would you like to press charges?”

Blake folds his arms across his broad chest and shakes his head. “No.”

I’m surprised by his answer because if I were Blake I would want those assholes prosecuted to the full extent of the law, but Blake being Blake, I suppose he sees pressing charges as a weakness.

The cop sighs. “All right then. If you’re not pressing charges, then we’ll have to let them go.”

“Understood,” Blake says. “There’s nothing about those assholes that I can’t handle should they decide to come back and try that shit again.”

“Have it your way.” Officer Ryder turns to me. “I’m going to release the suspects. If they come back, you call us, Avery. We don’t want things getting out of control again.”

“I will,” I reply and he smiles.

Officer Ryder returns to the other cops, who are detaining the bikers. I can tell by the way he keeps nodding toward us that he’s explaining to the bikers that no charges are going to be filed. Soon the men hop on their bikes, fire them up, and then pull out of the parking lot.

As soon as the parking lot is clear, the cops get into their cars and drive away too.

I turn to Blake and inspect his face a little more closely. Everything appears to be angry and swollen, the busted lip and the cut over his eye being the worst of the damage. “Let’s get inside and get some ice on that.”

Blake doesn’t argue with me. Instead he turns to head inside and holds the door open, waiting on Tyler and me to follow.

I glance up at Tyler and I find myself utterly confused. On one hand I’m excited to see him and on the other I still harbor a lot of resentment for the man. It’s been three years since I was last with him—three years since Dad died and everything in my life changed. I know we weren’t together long, but I expected Tyler to be there for me.

But, as I stand there looking at him now, I realize none of that matters. All of it’s in the past. We are strangers to one another. He’s no longer the nice country boy that I met a few years ago. He’s Tyler White of Wicked White—one of the hottest rock bands in the country. Hell, the band even made him change his last name from Mercer to White. He’s a completely different person.

I followed his rise to fame from the time Wicked White released their debut single until they became the band with the highest-grossing tour of any musical act last year.

Source: www.allfreenovel.com
Articles you may like