Halfway to the bar, it finally occurred to Alyssa that she had just stormed out of her own house. She quickly decided that she didn’t care, and that she needed a drink more than she needed to act rationally.
Greg Marchant’s bar had an improbable name—The Hollow-Horned Moose—but inside it was just your regular joint—smoky interiors, dimmed lights, old wooden furniture, a beat-up pool table, and a juke box in even worse condition.
She had not been here since she had come back to Pinebrook, and Marchant, a middle-aged man with still more black than gray in his hair, watched her in surprise as she walked in and approached the counter.
“Alyssa Kelley,” the man greeted. “I haven’t seen you in a decade. How are you?”
Marchant wasn’t Alyssa’s favorite person in town, but he didn’t rank amongst those she hated the most, either.
She nodded in greeting and settled on a bar stool. “Fine, thanks,” she said curtly. Remembering a shred of manners, she added, “And how have you been?”
“Can’t complain,” Greg said. “What can I get you?”
If anything, Marchant was a man of few words, which at that moment Alyssa could appreciate immensely.
“A beer, please.”
Alyssa didn’t stop at one beer, and after the second one she switched to Jack Daniel’s, because she loved clichés when it came to drinking, even cheap ones. And the more she drank, the more frustrated she got. Her head was spinning, and it had more to do with what Prince had told her than with her current alcohol intake.
She could not believe what was happening. While precarious, their situation had been somewhat stable. In the space of two days, everything had been upturned. She was getting sick of it. Life had been dealing her unexpected, horrible hands for almost two months now. It was blow after blow after blow, and she had yet to process any of it. She had not had time to deal with the loss of her parents. She had not had time to let her getting reacquainted with Prince really sink in. She had not had time to digest the truth about why he had turned his back on her eight years ago. She had not had time to deal with her hatred of Benedict “Bennie” Lenday and his Devil’s Fighters.
And she sure as hell could not find it in herself to deal with this latest blow—or rather, blows. Plural. As it happened, Prince could pack a punch outside of the ring as well as within. In one evening, he had given her two horrible pieces of news. Alyssa still could not believe he had gone behind her back and allowed Bennie Lenday to dictate the rules of the game—once again. God, but she hated the man. It felt as though Lenday was the source of any and all pain Alyssa had ever suffered. The only thing he was not responsible for was the death of her parents. Unless…
Alyssa shook her head. She could not and would not go there. Life was complicated enough without looking for made-up conspiracies and imagined attempted murders.
The more she replayed her earlier conversation with Prince and tried to make sense of it in her mind, the less she succeeded. Eventually, she concluded that it was a blessing that his actions made no sense to her, because it meant her perspective wasn’t as screwed up as his was. She hated to admit this, and she did so without any malice whatsoever, but Prince was damaged. Eight years with the Devil’s Fighters, leading the life he led, had made sure that his views and morals were a little tilted, a little out of whack. Acquiescing to Benedict Lenday’s blackmail attempt, putting his life in danger, and seeing all of it as “the only way” was anything but a balanced course of action in Alyssa’s book. And yet, she also could see his point when he said he was taking his life back in his own hands for the first time in almost a decade.
She shook her head, pushing all thoughts away and trying to start from scratch. She was just so confused. She supposed the priority right now would be to find a way to stop Prince from going through with his foolish, suicidal plan. She had absolutely no idea where to start with that.
She waved at Greg for another whiskey.
“Drowning your sorrows? It doesn’t seem like you.”
Alyssa turned and was relieved to find Rick taking his place on a stool next to her. Seeing a friendly face in her general turmoil felt incredibly refreshing.
“Over the past two months I’ve been doing a lot of things that aren’t like me,” she said, nodding her thanks when Greg put a glass in front of her.
Beside her, Rick asked for a beer. He patiently waited for his drink to arrive before he spoke again.
“To things that aren’t like us,” he said, raising his pint.
Alyssa made their glasses tinkle together, and she drank another sip of Jack Daniel’s. The whiskery burned her throat, but she didn’t mind. In fact, she appreciated the sharp sensation; it helped her focus, oddly enough.
“I’m guessing he told you?”
She looked up at Rick. He was watching her intently. “You know about this?” she asked.
He nodded grimly. “I’ve been trying to dissuade him. It’s fucking suicide.”
“Yes, thank you!” Alyssa exclaimed. She was immensely relieved to discover that Rick shared her thoughts on this. “What can we do?”
“Nothing.”
Alyssa blinked. On the other hand, maybe they weren’t exactly on the same page.
“What do you mean, ‘nothing’?” she asked, appalled.
“There’s nothing we can do,” Rick repeated. “It’s his choice.”
“It affects us, too.”
Rick arched a dark blond eyebrow at her. “Do you really think he’s doing it for us?”
Alyssa frowned. “What do you mean?”
“I mean, he may say he is. He may also be telling that to himself. But there’s no way in hell that’s the real reason.”
Alyssa’s head had resumed its spinning, and this time it was mostly due to the alcohol—although Rick’s recent declaration also played a part. She squinted drunkenly at him. “What the fuck are you talking about?”
Rick looked surprised at her drunken tap into vulgar language, but he didn’t comment on it. “The man has been pretty much enslaved for eight years,” he began. “He’s not doing this for us; he’s doing it for himself. He’s doing it to prove to himself that he still has control over his own life.”
“But he doesn’t, does he? This is all part of Bennie’s plan.”
“It is,” Rick admitted. “But Prince won’t see it, or he doesn’t care. It’s in his hands, whether Bennie likes it or not, and he’s going to savor that feeling if it kills him.”
“Which it very well might,” Alyssa said darkly. She shook her head, pushing away all excuses and defenses of Prince’s actions. “Well, I don’t give a fuck why he’s doing it. It’s bullshit. I won’t let him.”
Rick gave her an amused grin. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”
“You mean other than the fact that I’ve saved your ass?”
Rick laughed. “Besides that, yeah.” He sobered quickly, his handsome features darkening. “Look, Alyssa. I don’t like this either. In fact, I fucking hate it. But to be honest, even though I will always tell him he’s being an idiot, I really do understand why Prince is doing what he’s doing. And if I had the chance, I would do the same.”
Alyssa stared at him. “I wish I understood,” she admitted after a few moments of silence. “Really, I do. I would love nothing more than to be able to just get it. But I can’t. I’m trying, and I can’t.”
“That’s a good thing,” Rick said. “It means your past wasn’t as awful.”
Alyssa sighed, feeling the familiar pang that hit her whenever she thought about Prince’s past. “Sometimes I think it was my fault, you know? What happened to Prince.”
Rick frowned. “How was that your fault?”
“I was too quick to believe him when he told me he had decided to join the Devil’s Fighters for no particular reason other than the fact that he thought they could offer him a sense of family.” She shook her head at her own stupidity. “I was too quick to let him go.”
Rick smiled gently. “It wasn’t your fault, Alyssa. You were young and in love, of course you felt betrayed.”
Alyssa shrugged. “It’s not an excuse.”
They lapsed into silence then, and once they broke the silence, they moved on to other topics of conversation that, twenty minutes later, Alyssa could not recall for the life of her. Things had gotten blurry. Sounds reached her from far away, as if from underwater and yet extremely loud at the same time. She felt vaguely nauseous.
“Christ, Aly. How many did you have?” someone asked her at some point.
It took her a while to realize that that someone was, in fact, Prince. He was leaning over her, exchanging what looked to be worried glances with someone over her other shoulder—probably Rick.
Alyssa squinted drunkenly up at him. “What’s it to you?”
“She’s hammered,” another voice said.
It was a female voice, and Alyssa turned her head to discover that Lynn was standing next to Prince. Unlike him, however, she appeared more amused than concerned.
“Lynn,” Alyssa slurred. “I’m so glad you’re here. Have a drink with me, girlfriend.”
Lynn laughed. Her plump, friendly face swarmed in front of Alyssa’s eyes. “I think you’ve had enough, girlfriend.”
Alyssa scowled. “Not nearly enough.”
“All right,” Prince said. “That’s it. We’re going home.”
Alyssa batted at his hands, pushing him away more or less effectively. “I’m not going anywhere with you. You’ve betrayed me.”
Prince sighed heavily. “Aly, come on. Don’t be melodramatic now.”
“Eight years ago, I mean. You betrayed me. You didn’t tell me the truth. I could’ve helped you, but you gave me a pathetic excuse so I couldn’t do anything.” Alyssa stared at him in open, drunken accusation.
“Where is this coming from?” he asked, dumbfounded.
“Somewhere in Tennessee, along with Brother Jack,” Rick put in helpfully.
“Alyssa, how much did you drink?” Prince looked shocked.
“Doesn’t matter,” Alyssa said, waving her hand in dismissal. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean what I just said, you know?”
“What?”
“What I just said,” Alyssa repeated, as though she was dealing with the stupidest man on Earth. “That you betrayed me. That it was your fault. It wasn’t. It was my fault.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I should’ve realized you were lying to me.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Prince muttered, so ferociously that Alyssa actually drew back.
“Don’t be mad,” she said. “I’m sorry.”
Prince let out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m not mad, Aly. All right? I’m not mad. Now let me take you home, please.”
“I don’t want to go home with you,” Alyssa said. She was sorry she had hurt and was hurting him, but she was still furious with him enough to know that she didn’t want to spend the night with him and that she didn’t want him to rescue her.
“How about me?” Lynn interjected. “Would you come home with me?”
Alyssa squinted suspiciously at her. “I don’t know,” she said. “Are you leaving me with him afterwards?”
Lynn chuckled. “No, Lyssa, I’m not leaving you with him. You’re spending the night at my place. Sound good?”
Alyssa hesitated. “I don’t want to put you out.”
“Nonsense. It’ll be like a sleepover.”
Alyssa beamed. Now that sounded good. “I’d like that,” she finally said.
“All right, we have a winner,” Rick said, grinning from ear to ear.
Prince glared at him. “You’re not helping.”
“I think I’ve helped plenty.”
“I think you let her get drunk.”
Rick shrugged. “She’s an adult. She has a right to get wasted if she wants to. Besides, something tells me it’s not something she does very often.”
Prince grunted. “Whatever. Let’s get out of here.”
“I said—”
“All right!” Prince snapped, cutting off Alyssa’s protest. “I get it! Geez. I’ll stay here until you’re gone, okay?”
Alyssa watched him warily. She tried to pull herself up straight and assume a dignified look. “I’d appreciate that. Thank you!”
“You’re welcome,” Prince said, and in spite of the situation, he was grinning.
Alyssa let Lynn haul her off the stool. She stumbled and would have fallen had her friend not promptly caught her.
Alyssa gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.
“You’re welcome, Lyssa,” Lynn said, and she was smirking too. “Now come on, off to bed with you. You’re going to be nursing one hell of a hangover tomorrow.”
Alyssa let herself be half-carried and half-dragged out. Next thing she knew, she was in the passenger seat of Lynn’s car and they were speeding off.
“What got into you, Lyssa?” Lynn asked curiously.
Alyssa shrugged. “I don’t know,” she said. “I just felt like getting drunk.”
“For no reason?”
Alyssa frowned. “Didn’t Prince tell you?”
Lynn shot her a quick glance before turning her attention back on the road. “Tell me what?”
“He’s going to get himself killed for me. And for himself, Rick says.”
“What?” Lynn appeared to be utterly confused, which was more than understandable given the circumstances. “What are you talking about?”
“He’s made a deal with Bennie Lenday that if he fights one last fight he’ll let him and Rick go.”
“And that’s a bad thing?” Lynn ventured carefully. “I mean, what’s one more fight after eight years of competing in the rings?”
“He’s fighting against this guy…” Alyssa scowled, realizing that she didn’t know the name of the man who would probably kill her one true love (both literally and figuratively). “This guy has a reputation for killing his opponents. During the fight. With his bare hands,” she added for emphasis.
Lynn was so shocked she almost swerved off the road. “Are you serious?”
“I’m not drunk enough to make this up.”
“Oh, honey,” Lynn said, smiling despite everything. “You’re drunk enough to spot pink elephants right now.”
Alyssa grunted. “Perhaps,” she conceded begrudgingly. “Anyway. Prince’s gonna get himself killed for me. That’s why I got drunk.”
Lynn didn’t say anything, probably deeming it wiser to wait until Alyssa was sober to pick up the conversation. Alyssa could not fault her for that; she hardly knew her own name at the moment, but somewhere through the fog in her mind, she did realize just how wasted she was.
She leaned her forehead against the cool window and watched as the streets of Pinebrook sped by. By the time they reached Lynn’s house, Alyssa had puked in her friend’s car.