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Stuart’s raised voice became indignant and slightly condescending. “Get your hands off me, you reprobate. Do you know who I am?” More muffled voices floated over the airwaves before Stuart spoke again. “Can’t you take a little joke? Fine, give me a minute to say goodbye.” There was a long pause and he sputtered, “No…stop that, I say.” Finally, Stuart yelled out dramatically, “You’ll always be my sexy little kitty, Tiffany! I’m getting out of here, and we’ll be together again real soon, baby.”
Rolling her eyes, Tiffany shut her phone off. “Can I get a double this time, Ace? I swear that man is driving me to drink.”
Leaning over the bar to refill her tiny margarita glass, Ace remarked dryly, “I’ve only got two things to say. You did him a solid by putting him in a psych ward rather than letting us give him a dirt nap, and it’s up to him to make good on the second chance you gave him.”
“I don’t regret getting him help, but damn, when is it going to end?” The poor woman sounded exasperated.
Ace cautioned gently, “You don’t have to keep taking his calls, Tiff.”
Letting out a deep breath, her shoulders sagged. “He’s got nobody else, except his father. We both know he isnotgoing to get better with that horrible man in his life. As long as Stuart’s participating in his own recovery and not calling on his dad to get him discharged, I guess I’ll keep visiting and attending therapy sessions with him.”
“I can’t believe the man tried to kill his own wife.”
“Stuart was always a little unusual, even when he was a kid. When that situation with his parents popped off, it really messed with his head.”
“What does Ryder have to say about you staying connected to your bat-shit crazy and abusive ex?”
A deep voice sounded off from the clubhouse door behind them. “Ryder says this whole situation is fuckin’ nuts.”
Ace quipped, “Talking about yourself in the third person puts you squarely in the nutty category.”
Shooting him a cheerful look, Ryder replied with his pat answer for everything. “Shut the fuck up, dude.”
“I’m thinking you’re about a six or seven on the ten-point scale of crazy.”
“Nobody asked your opinion of my mental state.”
“I wish you both would stop using the word crazy in reference to real people. Mental illness is a treatable disease, just like high blood pressure or rheumatoid arthritis.”
Ace sighed. “Stuart’s particular type of mental illness is proving tough to treat, and he’s annoying the shit out of you.”
“They’re working on a differential diagnosis. He either has obsessive compulsive disorder or high-functioning autism. They’re thinking all this kitty business is just part of the obsessive part of the OCD or the serial obsessions that comes with autism. Once the psychiatrist figures out that piece, they’ll be in a better position to affect a positive outcome.”
“My sweet little nurse has a heart of pure gold, so she’s naturally going to see his situation as curable.”
“I’m not being sweet, babe. I’m just reminding everyone that we live in a civilized society where those kinds of problems can be managed enough for the person to have a long and happy life, even if they can’t cure it totally.”
Ryder stood in the middle of the floor, glaring at her. “In other words, he’s gonna need someone looking out for him pretty much the rest of his life, right?”
Pressing her lips into a firm line, she replied succinctly, “We can’t just keep throwing people away like they’re garbage.”
Sliding onto the barstool beside her, Ryder jerked his chin for a beer. Just when Ace thought the conversation was over, Ryder spoke again. “I understand all that, sweetness, and I can appreciate what you’re sayin’. Now, you hear me. I’m gettin’ pretty fed up with my woman dragging home strays.”
Before Ace could give his best friend a well-deserved reality check, Ryder did a complete about-face all on his own. “Since I’m one of the strays you saved, I guess I got no call to be complainin’ about it though.”
Ace beamed at the conflicted pair. “You got that right, brother. She got a two-for-one deal when she forced us to lay down arms.”
Ryder’s expression turned smug. “You were an easy mutt to tame, ‘cause you were fighting someone else’s battle.”
Taking a draw off his beer, Ace’s mind wandered back to first time he met Tiffany. He was fresh from prison and obsessed with getting revenge against the man who killed his twin. The thing was, his brother’s dirty deed was one in a long string and enough to turn even Ace’s stomach.
“I was gettin’ pretty tired of us riddling each other with bullets anyways. It worked out for the best.”
“I sure as hell did,” Ryder agreed. “You made the cut in record time and are now a sworn member of the Blind Jack’s MC. How’s that for a Cinderella story?”
Shooting the man who was once his sworn enemy a lopsided grin, Ace shrugged one shoulder. “Sure, if the MC is my prince and this cut is my glass slipper, I’ll buy that analogy.”
Ryder rubbed his chin speculatively. “That reminds me, why are you working behind the bar like a prospect?”
