I take a sharp breath as I pull into the parking lot. The place isn’t packed, which could be a good sign. I hop out and slam the door shut behind me, hurrying toward the rundown front door.

I press myself inside, into the sticky beer-soaked floors and the dim lighting. Regulars are posted up at the bar like usual, lit up in dim yellow, ignoring their own reflections in the bar. The bartender doesn’t even glance my way, but I feel like all eyes are on me, and everyone knows who I am.

Bill’s sitting at a table alone in the back, nursing a beer and looking at his phone. I stalk across the room, relieved he’s okay, fear replaced with anger.

“What the hell are you doing?”

He looks up at me. “Hey there,” he says. “Wanna drink?”

I shake my head. “We’re not supposed to leave the fucking hotel.”

He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture. “I’m fine.”

“They know we come here,” I say to him. “Or did you forget that?”

“They don’t know me,” Bill says. “They’re looking for you, remember?”

I narrow my eyes at him. “You were seen with us. What the hell are you trying to do? Need a drink so bad you can’t stay inside?”

That seems to get through to him. I see a little anger course through him. “I’m not a fucking drunk,” he says.

“Aren’t you?” I step closer to him. “Come back with me. We’ll talk about this at the hotel.”

“Fuck off, Henry,” he says. “You’re just some punk kid. Why the fuck should I listen to you?”

I sit down across from him and lean across the table. Bill suddenly looks a lot older than he used to. All the wisdom and charm is gone, replaced by the brutal truth: Bill is an aging cameraman past his prime with no wife, no kids, and no life. He drinks to fill the empty void he feels inside of himself, and even that’s not working anymore.

“I don’t give a fuck what you think anymore, Bill,” I say to him. “But you’re putting the rest of us in danger. Come back with me, right now, and maybe you’re not the piece of shit I think you might be.”

He stares back at me, knocks his beer back, and slams it down on the table. “Not because you’re telling me to,” he says to me, sliding out of the booth. “But because I’m out of cash and this place doesn’t take credit cards.”

I shake my head and mutter under my breath as he storms out the front door. He’s drunker than I realized, and I can’t help but wonder how long he’s been here.

I partially blame myself. I shouldn’t have spent all day in that room with Viv. I totally forgot about the guys, left them to fend for themselves. I mean, they’re fucking grownups, but they’re still my responsibility. I should have checked in with them sooner.

I find Bill in the parking lot, looking around unsteadily for the van. “Over here,” I grunt at him, walking over to it. I unlock the door as he hops in through the back, slamming the door shut behind him.

I sigh and glance up at the moon. I don’t know what I did for Bill to suddenly turn on me like this, but maybe it was just a matter of time. I’ve been noticing his drinking more and more lately, and that’s always a bad sign. Part of me thought Bill could just handle it better than guys I’ve known in the past, but that’s the trick of it. You think the people you know will be okay, but people are more alike than they are different most of the time. If a guy’s drinking too much, he’s going down a bad road, plain and simple.

Before I can pull open the door, I hear someone call out. Stupidly, I turn around, and spot three guys walking toward me.

“Can I help you?” I ask the guy in the lead. As he gets closer, I realize with a deep pang that I recognize these guys. It’s the three Strips guys from yesterday.

“Yeah, you can help me, all right,” Tom says, striding toward me.

I turn and face him, which is even dumber. I should get in the van, but there’s not enough time for that.

Tom’s on me in a second. He swings at my face and I manage to protect myself. The two other guys slam me up against the side of the truck, punching me in the gut, slamming a fist into my jaw. Lights crack into my vision.

I shove back and elbow one of them in the teeth. I feel them crunch as I violently heave forward, trying to get some space. I clock Tom in the jaw and they fall back, giving me space. For a second, I think I can make a break for it.

But someone slams their fist into the side of my head, sending me stumbling, and they’re back on me in a second. I get thrown to the ground and I know I’m fucked. I need to survive this, I need to get through, as kicks and punches rain down on me. I protect my head as much as I can, but they’re relentless, and I’m afraid I’ll never see Viv again.

There’s a roar and the kicks stop coming. I look up in time to see Bill charging at them like a bull, swinging a huge wrench we keep in the truck to help put together some of the more complicated camera dollies. The Strips manage to turn just in time for Bill to clock the closest guy in the gut, sending him sprawling.

“Motherfuckers!” Bill growls, swinging the wrench some more.

Tom scatters back. He grabs his friend on the ground and starts to drag him away, Tom threatening them with the wrench the whole time. A crowd gathers by the entrance to the bar, and I manage to sit up, my back against the van, breathing heavy. I can taste the metallic tinge of blood in my mouth. I figure they’re only leaving because of the crowd. They probably can’t kill people in public, not yet at least.

“You okay?” Bill asks, kneeling down next to me.

I spit a glob of clotted red onto the pavement. “I’m fine,” I grunt.

“Shit. You don’t look fine.”

“I’m okay. Help me up.”

I lean against him as I climb to my feet. I press against my ribs and while everything is bruised and aching, I don’t think they broke anything. I’m not in horrible pain, at least.

“We should go to a hospital,” he says.

I shake my head. “No, no hospital. Let’s go back.”

He stares at me for a second and nods. I figure he thinks this is his fault, so he’ll probably do whatever I ask right now. He helps me toward the passenger side but I shrug him off.

“You’re too drunk to drive,” I snap at him.

“Don’t feel drunk,” he grumbles.

I climb into the driver’s side myself as he quietly gets in his side. I start the van and pull out, my whole fucking body aching.

I’m angry but I know I’d probably be dead or worse if Bill hadn’t chased them off. Then again, I shouldn’t even be out in this position, and it’s his fucking fault that I am.

I’m pissed and all I want to do is to throw him the fuck out of the van, but that’s not what keeps coming to mind.

I just keep seeing Vivian’s face. It’s all I was thinking about as those guys kept kicking me. I was afraid I wouldn’t see her again, or if I did, that I’d be too broken to love. I didn’t care about my injuries or what was happening to me, I just wanted to be able to hold Vivian one last time.

I made it through, though. I’m not fucking dead, and I’m not broken. And now I’m pissed.

We get back to the hotel and I head back inside. I can tell I look bad based on how people are looking at me. When we get to our floor, I turn to Bill and stare at him.

“Next time, shoot me in the fucking head first and save us some trouble,” I say to him.

“Henry—“

“Save it,” I snap. “Go sober up. If I see you drinking one more time on a job, I’ll make sure you’re fucking fired and blacklisted as fast as possible. You understand?”

“Yeah,” he grunts. He turns and leaves without another word.

I watch him go before leaning up against the wall. I’m in some pain and I don’t want to face Vivian, not yet. I know she’s going to be upset.

As I’m leaning there, my phone rings. I reluctantly pull it out of my pocket and answer it.

“Yeah?” I say.

“Henry, dear, are you okay?”

I blink, a little surprised. It’s Pat, that old codger. “I’m fine. How did you know?”

“Tom showed up with his idiot friends. I think the one is missing some teeth and the other has a bad concussion. He told me what happened, I’m so sorry.”

“He’s there right now?” I growl at her.

“No, they left, not before stealing some of my cash. And after I looked after his hurt idiot friends.”

“They nearly killed me,” I tell her.

“I know, and I’m sorry. But I got something for you.” She pauses a second. “I think you’ll like it.”

“What is it?” I ask, exhausted suddenly.

“Tom’s going to do an interview with you.”

I stand there, dumbfounded. “You’re kidding me, right?”

“I know, it sounds like a trap, but listen. His friend OD’d last night. This little fight… he was taking it out on you, I think.”

“Jesus fuck,” I say. “What’s to stop him from taking it out on me again?”

“Bring those guards of yours, he’s afraid of them. Hell, he’ll even come to you guys, to the hotel. Nice and public.”

I pause a second. That sounds pretty good, actually. And it’s the exact final shot we need for this whole thing.

“Tomorrow morning at ten,” I tell her. “Make sure he’s here. Otherwise, we’re gone. Okay?”

“Okay,” she says. “He’ll be there.”

“Good.” I hang up the phone, not sure what the fuck to make of that.

Finally, exhausted and aching, I push off the wall and head to Viv’s room. Might as well get it over with.

I knock on her door and she answers right away. She gasps and I must look worse than I thought.

“Henry,” she says, pulling me into her bathroom. “What the fuck happened?”

“Bill,” I grunt at her. “Went to the Floorstander. When I picked him up, the fucking Strips were there.”

“Jesus,” she says, pulling my shirt off. “You’re going to be bruised to hell.”

“Assholes,” I say, wincing as she prods me. I sit down on the toilet as she gives me a tissue to clean my bloody nose with. “But there’s good news.”

“What’s that?” she asks. “Aside from you getting beaten to a pulp, that is.”

“Had worse,” I say to her. “But that gang member, the one related to Pat. He says he’ll sit down with us.”

She stares at me. I decide not to tell her that Tom was the one who beat my ass.

“You’re joking?” she asks. “After this? We’re getting the hell out of here first thing in the morning, Henry.”

“No, listen. He’s coming here. We’ll do the interview in the lobby, public place, with Claude and Jean on hand.”

“And where were they when you get your ass kicked?” she asks.

“Watching this place,” I say. “I didn’t tell them I was leaving.”

“Henry,” she says.

“It’s done. But we can get this last shot and then leave.”

She watches me, uncertain and afraid. I stand up, carefully keeping the pain from my expression.

“This is a good idea,” I say to her. “It’s public. We can do this.”

She sighs. “I don’t know.”

“Let’s finish it.” I touch her face gently. “Together. Okay?”

She takes my hand and kisses me softly. “Okay,” she says.

“Now I’m going to sit in bed for a while and try not to hurt.”

She laughs. “I’ll get you some ice.”

“Thanks.” I glance in the mirror. Not too horrible, actually. She gives me a look as I settle into bed before leaving the room.

I’m afraid and angry, but I know the best thing I can do is get this interview and make sure this story is good. We’ll break the Strips through political pressure and public outrage. Nothing like a bright spotlight on a town to really shake the cockroaches out. We’ll do this the right way, and I’ll get my revenge.