Max groaned as he struggled to open his eyes. His whole body felt heavy and awkward. Wincing, he eventually managed to sit up. His throat felt dry and sore as he pushed his hands through his hair and looked around.
He was bare-chested and sat on a sofa in a dingy back room, which he recognized as being part of the bar. Distantly, he could hear the hum of the jukebox playing a familiar tune. Max shuddered, his shirtless skin prickling in the cool of the damp room. He noticed his T-shirt and jacket neatly piled up on a nearby table and hastily reached for them. Pulling them on, he felt them snag against the tightness beside his ear. Max grabbed his cell phone and turned the camera towards himself and then inspected his wound. It was no longer bleeding as several crude stitches were now holding it closed.
“Ah,” Max massaged his aching jaw as he continued to scrutinize the stitches.
“You’re up then?” the door to the room swung open and the aging blonde strolled in carrying a steaming mug of coffee. Max’ felt drawn to its acidic aroma, eager for the injection of caffeine.
“Here,” she offered him the coffee and sat down on the sofa beside him. “This might help you wake up a bit.”
“How long was I out?” time seemed to have lost all meaning. He could have been asleep for hours or even days and it would have felt the same to him.
“A couple hours,” the woman gave a light shrug. “The sedatives I gave you should have pretty much worn off entirely by now.”
Max nodded as he sipped at his coffee.
“Whoever cut you with that blade caught you good,” she glanced at his fresh stitches. “Leave those in for a few days, let it heal, and then I’ll cut them out for you.”
“Thanks.”
“Just don’t go getting too roughed up tonight. There’s only so much patching up I can do here.”
“Tonight?” Max’ thoughts were coming too slowly as if they were stuck in glue. What was happening tonight? He knew he was at the Skeleton Kings’ bar, but he couldn’t quite remember why. It was as if he’d woken from a deep, deep sleep and was struggling to reconnect with reality.
“You boys are storming Colridge tonight, remember?” the blonde gazed at him intently, narrowing her wrinkled eyes. “Those sedatives didn’t fry your brain too much did they?”
“Colridge.” Brittany. Max’ senses instantly sharpened when he thought of her. She was still in Colridge, still in danger. He had to get to her. Leaning forward he placed down his coffee and stood up but, he’d underestimated the effects of the sedatives that were still lingering in his system.
The dingy room tilted on its axis and Max swayed on his feet.
“Careful now,” the woman appeared behind him, grabbing him by the shoulders and gently guiding him back down toward the sofa. “You don’t want to run before you can walk,” she advised, handing him back his mug of coffee.
“I need to get to Colridge,” he told her desperately.
“This about that girl who called your phone?”
“What?” Panic leaped up into Max’ throat, almost preventing him from speaking altogether. “Brittany? She called me? When?”
He was firing his questions like bullets at the blonde.
“She called while you were knocked out,” she replied slowly, not bothered by his level of desperation.
“She won’t be calling again.”
“Wait, what? What did you say to her?” Max felt like a mad man possessed as he reached for his makeshift nurse and grabbed her roughly by the collar of the dress she was wearing, which would be better suited to a woman half her age.
“Relax,” she didn’t bat an eyelid as she eased herself out of his grip. There wasn’t even a flash of fear in her eyes. She was well accustomed to the tempers on display in the bar.
“I kept her safe,” she told him sternly.
“I can keep her safe!” Max insisted shrilly.
“Can you?” she cast a dubious eye over his latest wound, which would surely leave a scar. “Because, son, I’m not sure you can. And if you’re really sweet on this girl, you’ll just let her go. You see, you’re already in a relationship, with the Skeleton Kings, and your Uncle. He don’t take too kindly to anyone cheating.”
Max groaned in frustration. What had Brittany said when she’d called? What had his nurse said? He could only imagine how mad she must be at him. He needed to talk to her, to convince her of how much he loves her.
“Let her go,” the blonde advised, getting up and dusting off her dress as her old bones creaked in protest. “The Blood Gang is no place for a lady. Unless you want her to turn out like me.”
Max looked at the old blonde, really looked at her. Behind her tired eyes, there was still the sparkle of the beautiful girl she'd once been. A girl who had been lured into the gang by his Uncle Alex back when the old man was enigmatic and handsome. No, this wasn’t the future Max wanted for Brittany, for her to sit around and stitch up gang members. He wanted her to follow her dreams, to follow her art, her passion. He rubbed a hand across his chest, across the tattoo which had originally bought them together.
“Take care, kid. Think about what I said,” the woman was at the door now, about to leave.
“Thanks for fixing me up,” Max forced a weak smile and tapped the side of his head.
“Anytime. Just be careful out there tonight, you hear?”
Max nodded. He wasn’t ready to go back to Colridge, to fight again. But if Brittany was there, he’d have to. Somehow, he’d have to sneak away from the others and get to her apartment. They’d have to run. If he abandoned the pack during a fight, there was no way they’d take him back. He’d become as much as an enemy to them, as a Red Riders member. But for Brittany, Max was willing to run and turn his back on everything he knew. She was worth that. She was worth running away for.