For You(150)

“Yeah, listen, I gotta go out on a call and Jack’s not answering. Morrie closed and I know you’re just in too but they need a break from this business and someone’s gotta look after Feb. You think Phy would be cool with you comin’ over and crashin’ on my couch for a few hours?” Colt paused and I not only wondered what the answer would be but also when Darryl had been added onto Colt’s Person Who I Trust to Protect Feb List.

Phylenda, Darryl’s wife, was a good woman, a strong one and chock full of attitude. She had to be, she knew anytime her man could fall off the wagon, do something stupid and, with a strike three, be gone for a good long time so she’d be responsible for taking care of two kids who lived with the knowledge that their Dad was in prison again. She knew this because she’d done it before.

She didn’t come into the bar much because their kids were seven and nine and couldn’t come with her. Not to mention she had a full-time job too and, with Darryl’s hours, did most of the child rearing. And lastly, she didn’t have people close to help out and she tended to keep herself to herself. Though I saw her, just not often. We closed the bar annually for a staff Christmas party where family was invited and we gave out bonuses to Darryl, Ruthie and Fritzi. At the Christmas party, as a grand finale, Morrie disappeared (Dad used to do this) and came out as Santa Claus and gave all their kids gifts, or, in Fritzi’s case, her grandkids. We’d also close when we had our summer barbeque for close friends and the staff was always there. Dad did it for years and Morrie carried on the tradition. Not to mention, I was one of the few people Phy would let watch her kids. Not that I did it often, sometimes when Darryl got his shit together and took her out and other times when she’d had enough and needed to go by herself to a movie.

I understood her and I liked her. She liked me back and there were not many of those kinds of folks on her list so I’d always felt honored by it. Still, I wasn’t sure she’d want Darryl to get pulled into this shit.

“Thanks, Darryl, see you soon.”

There it was. Phy didn’t mind Darryl being pulled into this shit. Another indication about how they both felt about me.

“Hope the bar keeps this turnover,” I said to Colt as he flipped shut what I saw now was my phone likely because he didn’t have Darryl programmed into his. “I’m thinkin’ bonuses should be a lot bigger this year.”

Colt didn’t answer. He just curled up, taking me with him then he twisted and put me down on my back.

Then he touched his lips to mine and said, “Go back to sleep, Feb. I won’t leave before Darryl gets here but, when I do, I’ll be gone awhile.”

My hand aimed at his neck, I had good aim luckily so my fingers curled around it before I whispered, “Okay.”

He touched his lips to mine again then moved to pull away. I dropped my hand before he twisted back and looked down at me.

He didn’t say anything so I asked, “What?”

“This happens a lot, honey, crime doesn’t occur just nine to five.”

I felt what he was saying to me like each word wrapped around me, twining me in velvet lined rope.

He was telling me my future, what it’ll be like, me being in his life.

God, I hoped that rope never dropped away.

“Bars aren’t open just nine to five either, Alec,” I said quietly.

I watched his shadowed head nod before he bent and gave me another kiss.

“We’ll work it out,” he murmured.

Then he exited the bed and I settled into it. It was just coming up to five in the morning and I was dog tired but I still listened to him moving around, getting dressed, going into the living room. Wilson was following him around, I knew, because Wilson was meowing. It was early for his breakfast but I knew Colt gave it to him because Wilson shut up. I also knew Colt gave it to him probably to shut him up.

I couldn’t know for sure, but I think I fell asleep smiling.

* * * * *

Hours later I was standing at the counter on the kitchen side of Colt’s bar, one of Meems’s coffees half-drunk in front of me, the remains of one of her blueberry muffins to my side. I was wearing a pair of cutoff, faded jeans shorts with a hem so frayed, they should probably be tossed but I’d had them so long, I didn’t have the heart to do it. I put on one of my older Harley tees, also faded, with my shorts and some slouchy socks. The mid-March weather had been a bit on the warmer side than usual but I still had on my socks because I always wore socks or slippers on my feet when I was in comfort mode.

Jessie was sitting on a stool opposite next to Josie Judd, their own Meems’s detritus in front of them. Chip, Josie’s husband and one of Chip’s workers, Brad, were in the den positioning motion detectors in the corners.