Aftermath Book Two Crash Series

Chapter Four

Aria

            Loud, obnoxious music shakes the sticky floor beneath my feet, it is too loud for such an empty space. While not empty exactly, there are a few groups scattered around the dark and dingy bar but nowhere near crowded enough to warrant the nose level.

            Pressing my back to the bar I take a second to stare. The lights are low leaving plenty of shadows across the dingy space. The walls are covered in dusty, outdated wall art and peeling yellowed paint. It might be illegal to smoke indoors in most places, but they don’t give a s**t in here. My gut twists with uncertainty and hesitation. Maybe I didn’t think this through as much as I thought.

            There are a few pool tables with ruffed-up felt and chipped balls sitting at the back. A group of biker-looking men wobbles around, talking animatedly to each other. Cigarettes and beer bottles hanging from their fingertips. With long beards, messy hair, and leather jackets they are the type of men I expected to see here. But they aren’t the men, or man I’m looking for.

            The chill of the fall air pushes through the side door, mixing with the stale smoke and cheap beer. A few women with too much cheap makeup and faded box dye litter around the bar flirting with any man willing to give them attention. I feel uneasy taking in their appearances and comparing them to mine. So far I’ve managed to slip inside with barely a second glance thrown my way. I’m good at staying in the shadows but usually, I can blend in. I’m afraid my outfit might be screaming for attention.

            There are two reasons it took me a few weeks to make this first move. One, I needed information, a lead. I had to ask around the soup kitchen on the down low and drag bits and pieces of information out of people that had no idea I was even digging. I made sure the conversations always happened naturally and didn’t last long. As soon as someone started getting suspicious of my intentions I’d pull back and divert the conversation in another direction. But, finally, after a few weeks, I managed to gather enough info to get the name of this bar and a low-level man known to work in Stasevich’s circles.

            Two, I needed to gather supplies for my disguise and my safety. There was no way I was going into this empty-handed. I learned my lesson and I’ve been thinking this through. That’s why I twisted my hair uptight and covered it in a black-styled wig. Bangs run across my face with poker-straight hair that just brushes my shoulders.

            I don’t normally wear much makeup but tonight I have bright red lips, with magnetic fake eyelashes and a smokey eye that took way too long and looks majorly half-assed. Like I said I don’t do my make-up much but the thick, blue, cat-eyed frames with plastic dud lenses hide some of the mess of my eyeshadow. They also go great with my tight blue crop top only partially covered by the used leather jacket I found at a second-hand store. Paired with my shiny black leggings and cute chunky heeled booties I thought I would look tempting and badass.

            Tempting enough to draw some wanted attention when I find this guy. Make him buy me a couple of drinks, participate in some friendly flirting, and see if I can get any relevant info out of him. But still, I needed to be badass to fit in with the regulars and not draw too much attention. Ha. I failed at that.

            My outfit is too college girl and way too little of a mid-life woman. The ladies here are in cute tight t-shirts with long necklaces and variations of jackets over top. They’re all in some form of ripped jeggings and high leather boots or cute slim booties, nothing like the ones I’m currently wearing. My age is showing and it’s only a matter of time before the men start swarming at the sign of fresh prey and the woman start glaring at what they perceive as a threat.

            Running my sweaty palms on the top of my leggings I turn towards the bar and search out the bartender. She’s a woman around my age leaning against the back of the bar scrolling through her phone. Looking down the worn wooden bar my eyes settle on a pair of men at the far end. They’re shouting over the music as they discuss something funny. Only pausing the conversation to lift their beers to their lips and only long enough to finish off their beer and order another.

            One of them wears a black beanie over their hair, the rim budding up to his thick eyebrows above dark eyes. His face is rough with scars and a raggedy beard. There’s something about him that screams to danger and raises the hair on my arms. I clear my throat to push down the rising anxiety at having to approach him and try to manipulate a known criminal.

            Glancing down I pull my purse closer to my body and wedge my hand in the side pocket, finding comfort in the cold plastic I find there. My trusty taser, right where I need it, waiting on standby. I’m really hoping tonight is not the night I need to use it. Patting it one last time I pull myself away from this end of the bar and make my way closer to Carl and his friend.

            The walkover is all it takes for people to start noticing the outsider. I can feel their stares burning up and down my body and I fight the urge to cower and cover myself up. Drawing up all my confidence I keep my shoulders straight and settle in a chair two down from where Carl’s standing. I don’t look in his direction, not yet. Instead, I look towards the bartender leaning over the bar waiting on my order.

            “What can I get ya?” Short and sweet, no introduction or how ya doing, Just right to the nitty-gritty and I appreciate it at this moment.     

            “A shot of Jameson and a seven seven thanks.” Reaching in the other side of my purse I go to grab the fake ID I bought off a shady website. I’m probably on some FBI watch list now but a girls gotta do what a girls gotta do. I figure there isn’t much trouble I can get into since I actually am legally able to drink. Not breaking too many laws really.    

            She nods and gets to work so I grab a wad of bills ready to pay for my drink as Carl and his friend try to get closer without making it obvious. Turning my head to the side and looking to the ground I smile smugly with the knowledge that I have his attention already. The less I have to flirt the better. I’m already going to feel dirty and guilty enough. I don’t need any more bad juju.

            She slides the shot and drink in front of me and I lay a twenty down and tell her to keep the change. I don’t hesitate to throw the shot back, schooling my face so I don’t grimace before settling it back down and grabbing for my drink.

            I pivot on the barstool so I can look around like I’m just taking everything in when really, I want it obvious that I have nothing to fill my time. Leave every door opened for Carl. I don’t really take in the room, having already done that, instead my mind wanders for a moment that leads me to once more reach down and feel for my taser friends’ stiff shape.

            I haven’t been alone in so long I feel naked being in public with no security to back me up. At first, I found it stifling, and now without I realize how much comfort I really get from having them there. Tomorrow I’ll make them a special treat to show my appreciation, but tonight I need to be grateful I managed to make it out of the mansion without alerting anyone.

            I sip at my drink as the guy's conversation makes it to my ears over the insane music. I can make out Carl’s side profile out of the corner of my eye. He’s managed to make his way to my side and it’s the only reason I can hear anything at all.

            “…crazy. b***h, threw all my s**t in the tub, covered it in cheap ass vodka, and lit it on fire. Charred the f**k out of the bathroom acting like she had no idea the fire wouldn’t stay in the tub,” The man next to Carl is nearly shouting with his big green eyes spread open like he still can’t wrap his head around it. Carl leans forward with amusement, but no shock, and I can’t help but wonder if this is normal behavior.

            “You finally leave her?” His voice is as rough as his face. I won’t be surprised if he pulls out a cigarette, sounds like he smokes a couple of packs a day.

            “Am I dead? What the f**k do you think?” He shakes his head and chugs the rest of his beer back. The bartender is there a moment later with a new cold bottle to swap out for the now empty one.

            “Pussy.” Carl shoots back with no hesitation, knocking his fist into the other man’s arm with a hard shove that has him stumbling into the chair on the side of him.

            “Dude!” He straightens out and glares at Carl but makes no move for revenge.

            “I’m not your f*****g therapist. And I don’t give a s**t about your crazy b***h. Stop crying to me like a f*****g p***y. Leave her, don’t. I don’t give a shit.” What a good friend he is. And really asshole needs to learn more about p***y. Being a p***y should be a badge of honor. They can get pounded, stretched and a whole f*****g human can get pushed out of one and still squeeze a pencil d**k like a pressure cuff.

            d***s get tapped a little too hard and they shrivel up and cry out in pain like a useless wet paper straw. So really, he should have said “Stop crying to me like a f*****g dick.”

            After a minute of tense silence Carl’s friend grunts and changes direction. “Hear about Friday?”

            I sip my drink and lean my elbows on the bar giving me a better view of the guys without making it obvious I’m looking. Carl’s slightly turned away from me so he doesn’t notice the change in my posture, but I can feel his friend’s eyes, so I take a deeper pull from my glass and turn my face away from them.

            “Who do you think they’re sending.” Carl grunts back.

            “Figured. Seems too soon.” He says it as a statement, but it feels like a question. A question Carl hears too.

            My purse starts vibrating and my stomach drops. It’s late enough to know there’s only one person that could be calling. f**k, he should still be asleep, but I don’t dwell on it nor do I pull out my phone. This conversation is exactly why I’m here, so I finish my drink and spin around to get the bartender's attention and lean a little farther back and closer to the guys. I’ll deal with Mason later.

            “Business is good.” Simple with no information. Frustration swells as I ask the bartender for another round of both. As I grab for the glass the charms on my bracelet clink together like a warning that my time is almost up. It won’t be long now before someone’s pulling up.

            “Nah, there’s something more. Mickey says business is lower than average. Profits down for everyone. Supplies too high and demands not there. So, why another shipment?” Why indeed?

            “You questioning Ivan? That’s how you end up like Wick.” Carl’s empty bottle hits the bar harder than necessary as he pivots to search for the bartender. I keep my head in my drink, swirling it around and pretending to be lost in my head as the bartender drops a new bottle off and his eyes burn the side of my head.

            “Whatever man. Glad I won’t be there.” His buddy says more resigned than before, leaving the perfect dull in the conversation for Carol to make his move until the stool next to mine pulls out and a heavy arm settles over my shoulders making me jump at the unexpected contact.

            “Sorry I’m late, Baby.” The voice settles my surprise as I turn my head and take in my “date”. Wyatt’s beefy arm pulls me closer to his toned chest and his curious eyes. He drops his voice lower as he leans in so he can whisper in my ear. “You’ll explain in the car. Let’s go.”

            He must have been the closest one to my location when they found me missing, therefore tasked with the midnight extraction. I briefly wonder if he had to leave Tara’s bed to get here and instantly cringe at the additional storm that will create.

            f**k, I was supposed to get away with this a lot longer than this. What the hell.

             “Please.” I push away from him and stand while I roll my eyes and glare. “I’m sick of your excuses. Take me to my house and you can grab the rest of your shit.” I don’t wait for a response or look back to Carl. My mission has been compromised and this is my perfect out. And maybe if I’m ever able to escape again Carl won’t think I have a man waiting for me at home.

            I stomp out of there with my head held high until the fresh air hits me. The chill in the air and the hulk-like man behind me have me shrinking and letting out a long breath.

            I have no idea how I’ll explain this one. And explaining I’ll be.

            One AM and my night is not even close to being over.