Chapter Five
Trethan
I set another empty pint glass down on the bar and waited patiently for the bartender to pour me another. The Roasted Bison wasn’t very busy on a Sunday evening, but it was still lively enough to be a worthwhile place to go to.
A few women spun on the dance floor in time to the music, but none of them caught my eye. I sighed and turned back to my beer. It was the only thing in here holding my interest tonight. I couldn’t stop thinking about Vanessa.
“Hey man, how are you feeling?” Jeff asked from behind the bar, reaching out to tap the counter next to me to make sure I knew he was talking to me.
I looked up at him and shrugged. “I’m fine, man,” I said.
He gave me a sympathetic look and shook his head, wiping his hands off as he moved on to pour the next order. “Rough week, eh? I get that. Just don’t go too far down the spiral.”
I rolled my eyes, but I knew he was just looking out for me. I nodded at him. “I’ll behave myself, I promise.”
He looked like he wanted to say something more, but customers waited for him at the other end of the bar. After one last look at me, he moved down to take their order.
I watched the women again, trying to force myself to feel interested in one of them. It had been a few weeks now since I’d gotten laid, and I knew I needed a good fuck. If nothing else, it would help me sleep a little better. But none of the women here tonight got a rise out of me, no matter how much they gyrated their hips and tossed their hair.
In disgust, I turned back to my beer, not sure what was wrong with me.
Unbidden, Vanessa’s face swam before my eyes yet again. It wasn’t the face of the young, teenaged girl who had left town a few years ago to pursue her university education. This was the new face, the one I’d seen just the previous night. Her black hair was long now, rather than that bob she’d favored through high school. She’d been wearing a green dress that I knew I’d seen her in before, but her curves had filled out, and the dress flowed around her now in a way that it never had before, accentuating her narrow waist.
I could feel my member stir a little just at these thoughts, and it wasn’t even like I was thinking of something particularly sexy. Except that Vanessa was always, somehow, sexy.
I felt embarrassed by the very thought and took a deep swallow of my beer, trying not to choke on it. Then, I cast my gaze back over the bar, trying to find some sort of distraction, but nothing came to my rescue. She’d looked so damn good at dinner that I couldn’t seem to keep my thoughts away from the gutter. Finally, something grabbed me from my nefarious thoughts and pulled me back to my ever-lonely reality.
Some heavy-set dude was riding the mechanical bull, pushing his luck a bit that night. I’d seen Mike around the Roasted Bison a few times in the past; he liked to come here nearly as much as I did. I knew he worked on one of the ranches at the far end of town, but I didn’t even know which ranch it was. We had never talked before.
Mike flew off the bull just as I looked over at him, but he rolled with a grace surprising for his size and came up laughing. “I bet I could beat anyone in this bar!” he called out, and I could see a couple of the girls giggling and watching him as though he was hot shit.
I was still bruised up from the other day, but there was no way that guy could beat me on the bull. He didn’t even have it on the most difficult setting, I noted as I walked closer to the padded area. This was going to be a piece of cake.
The man’s eyes lit up as he looked over at me. “I see you there, hotshot,” he said, pointing to me. “You think you got what it takes to beat me? Well, come on up. That’s right, strut up here with that hat and boots. Show off for the ladies, cowpoke. They won’t be so impressed when you get knocked on your ass.”
I rolled my eyes at how over the top he was. The guy was like a carnival barker trying to draw a crowd. I had to give him credit, though. I wasn’t bored anymore.
“What was your time?” I asked him.
“He made it 7.5 seconds!” someone else called from over to my left.
I snorted. “I could beat that. Easy.”
The man raised an eyebrow at me. “Well now, that’s what I like to hear! How much you want to bet you can beat me?”
I hadn’t realized he wanted to bet on the winner. But having money on the line always made a man ride better, didn’t it? “A hundred bucks,” I said as my bravado swelled within me.
Mike grinned. “A hundred bucks, sure,” he said, reaching out to shake my hand. His palm was slick with sweat, and I fought not to make a face. He was still gawking at me. “You ever ridden this thing before? Haven’t seen you on it.”
“A couple times,” I said evenly, not wanting to admit that a couple times was literally all the bull riding I’d done.
He laughed, brimming with confidence. “A couple of times? And you think you’re ready for the big leagues? It’s your funeral. You want to go first, or should I?”
“You go first and show me how it’s done.” I was letting him go before me so I knew what time I had to beat before I got on the bull, but I wasn’t about to say that.
Mike snorted but clambered back on the bull, giving a nod toward Mickey. “Let’s go, man,” he said.
The bull rocked and spun. He clung to its back with both hands. People cheered him on as it became clear that he was about to beat his previous time. The bull lurched and threw him off. He landed in a roll and sprang to his feet nimbly like a circus performer. He’d beat his earlier time, but not by much. Still, it was enough to have me nervous about it.
Eyes on the prize, I reminded myself, stepping forward amidst both cheers and jeers from the crowd. I waved a hand, acknowledging everyone. I hoped their cheers would help me pull through this and keep me motivated. I climbed up on the bull and steadied myself. I was as ready as I was gonna be. I nodded at Mickey to start her up.
The mechanical bull lurched between my legs, and I nearly fell off in the first couple of seconds.
My hands slipped on the leather. I had to clench my knees together and make a quick grab to avoid sailing off. Embarrassment turned my face red, but I forced myself to focus and to find that rhythm. It was different from riding the bull at full speed. I felt like I could anticipate the bull better when it was moving faster. Like this, I had to be a bit more patient. But I started to get into it.
I grinned, drinking in the cheers from the audience that gathered around me. I had to be doing well. More and more people were coming over to watch. There was part of me that screamed to get the fuck off while I was ahead — but reason never rested with me too long.
Mickey kicked up the intensity a notch, and I moved with it, easily keeping my seat. When he kicked it up one more notch, I lost the rhythm and ended up getting tossed. Unlike the other night, I was able to roll through the fall. My bruises flared with pain as I tumbled over the mat, but when I got to my feet, I was beaming with pride. I had absolutely destroyed Mike’s time.
“That might be a record for an amateur here in the Roasted Bison,” Mickey told me, clapping me on the back. “Nicely done.”
“Thanks,” I said, grinning at him. I looked around for Mike, who had a sour look on his face. “Better luck next time, buddy,” I said. Then, I held out my hand. “Pay up.”
Mike spat off to the side. “You know we were just joking. There was never any money at stake.”
“Bullshit,” I said. “We shook on it. You owe me a hundred bucks, and you know it. Everyone in this bar knows it.”
“Why the hell would I actually bet a hundred dollars on some punk kid that I don’t know anything about?” he scoffed. “Would have had to see you ride before if I was going to stake that kind of money on a bet.”
“So that’s how it is,” I said as anger burned in my belly.
He shot me a smug look, like he’d won. God, he had a face made for punching. I was frustrated as all hell, but I wasn’t about to start a fight over a hundred bucks. It would take more than that to make me lose my cool.
“I thought I was betting with a man,” I said, shaking my head. “Not a lying little bitch.” I turned to walk away.
“What did you just call me?” Mike roared drunkenly, pushing through the crowd and coming after me.
I made it outside the Bison and then turned around to face him. If things ended up getting physical, I didn’t want to wreck my favorite bar. I respected the place too much for that. Mike, on the other hand, I didn’t respect at all.
He stalked toward me, his feet crunching on the gravel and his face was an ugly shade of purple. “What did you say to me?”
“Which part? The part where I said you weren’t a man or the part where I called you a lying little bitch?” I shouldn’t have been taunting him when he was clearly itching for a fight, but I couldn’t help myself. I’d been in a bad mood all night, and I wasn’t going to take any shit from this ape.
Besides, I didn’t expect things to escalate any further. This kind of guy was all talk. He’d get up in my face, make a big show of what a tough guy he was, and then he’d walk away, pretending he won. It was the quiet ones you had to worry about — the ones who never said a word before knocking you out with one punch. Mike was anything but quiet.
Other patrons were spilling out the front of the Bison, hoping to see some action. I wondered if any of them would intervene if Mike went after me. Probably not. The regulars had seen me fight before. They knew I could handle myself, and they all knew who my father was.
Had been, rather. No time to dwell on that now.
Mike lunged at me, arms swinging wildly. I sidestepped out of his way easily and fell into a fighting stance. I felt that familiar surge of adrenaline rush through my veins like rocket fuel. It had been a long time since I’d felt this way. It scared me how right it felt, like coming home.
The crowd kept their distance. Mike threw a wide, meaty punch. I ducked beneath it and swore under my breath. That one had been close. I could avoid his ham-fisted attacks for a while, but eventually, he would get lucky and connect. Then, there was no telling what I’d have to do to him.
Better to take control of the situation while I still could. I swung my leg around and caught him behind the knee, sending him crashing to the gravel with a pained snarl.
“Cut the shit, man,” I growled. “Just get out of here and don’t come back to until you’re ready to pay up, do you hear me?”
He heard me. His eyes burned with anger as he struggled to his feet. Blue and red lights flashed around us. I squinted against them, blinded. Mike chose that moment to come after me again, but the local sheriff stepped between us and halted his advance.
“Easy, Mike,” the man said, leading him away. “Let’s get you back home to your wife. Time for you to sleep it off.”
The onlookers cheered, but the sound if it didn’t thrill me the way it had when I’d been on the bull. Instead, I felt physically sick. I turned and stalked off in the opposite direction, heading home for the night.
For all that John insisted that I’d changed over the past few years, I couldn’t really believe it — not when I was still drinking and fighting like this. I felt disgusted with myself. But all the same, I knew I’d never change. I didn’t think it was possible to change anymore.
I kicked at a rock, sending it skittering off across the road. It did nothing to soothe the pent-up anger and frustration inside me. I wondered if maybe John was right, maybe I was better when I was smoking weed. I scrubbed a hand over my face and went up to bed, hoping I could pass out for a couple hours and forget about everything, seeing that nothing was soothing the tiger pacing around in my chest.
I knew one thing that would: Vanessa.