It was Tuesday night at the Goat and the place was packed for a weeknight. It took awhile to wade through the crowd of people and finally find a couple seats at the end of the bar. We passed over my blood stains on the floor from the stabbing. No need to tell Grace that was the spot where it happened. Jimi Hendrix's “Purple Haze” screamed over the loud speaker and two bikers were playing air guitar.
“Nice place,” Grace yelled to me.
I couldn't tell if she was joking or not. The Stinky Goat was one of the best bars in Sacks County. I waved Randy the bartender over.
Randy clapped his hands and smiled. “Well I'll be damned. Tanner King. I didn't think I'd see you here again so soon.”
“Good to see you too, Randy.”
“Everything all okay with the...” Randy did a stabbing motion with his hands.
I put my arm around Grace's shoulder. “Yeah the doc right here fixed me pretty good.”
Randy looked Grace up and down with wide eyes. “Well if that's the case the drinks are on the house. What can I get for you two?”
“Just a beer for me.” I gazed over at Grace and waited for her to choose but she looked so lost. “Get the lady an expensive cocktail.”
Randy rubbed his hands together and flipped a white towel over shoulder. “Coming right up.”
Grace leaned over and I got a nice whiff of that same flowery perfume. She smelled so damn good. “The bartender seems very nice,” she said.
“We've been friends ever since we were kids. But he's only on his best behavior because there's a lady present. Normally he's foul mouthed and rude.”
Randy returned with drinks. “A Guinness for the son of a bitch and a watermelon margarita for his lovely date.”
I took a sip of the beer and watched Grace take drink. She scrunched up and turned her nose at it. I chuckled and whispered in her ear. “I never said Randy was good at making drinks.”
“Its fine,” she replied, taking another sip. “Just a little too strong for me.”
Once Grace got a little more relaxed from the alcohol, I'd take her back to my place and tear that tight dress right off.
I felt a slap on the back and looked behind to find Isaac. His long black hair made him look like he was apart of a metal band from the 80's. He was the treasurer of the Black Widow MC which meant he took care of all the money. Isaac was smart—almost too smart to be a biker. But we were lucky to have him.
“Glad to see you out and about, Tanner,” Isaac said.
“I had to get a little time away from Claire. She was checking in on me every minute.”
Isaac noticed Grace and licked his lips. Down boy! “Who's the chick, Tanner?”
“Grace this is Isaac. He's also a member of Black Widow.” I turned back towards Isaac. “Grace is the doctor who saved me.”
Everything clicked for Isaac. “Thanks for saving this bastard. But nobody would have noticed if you had let him die.”
I playfully slugged him in the arm. Isaac loved to break my balls. “Pay no attention to him,” I told Grace.
Isaac sat down next to Grace. “You don't want anything to do with this guy,” he said, pointing his thumb at me. “This guy's bad news. Heed my warning, stay away from him.”
“Okay she's had enough, Isaac. Go bug someone else.”
Isaac grabbed my beer and took it with him. He deserved a sucker punch to the stomach later. Randy saw what happened and already began pouring me another.
“Is this where you guys...” Grace searched for the right words.
“No our club house is a few miles from here. We like coming here because there's more liquor.”
“Are there any other members here?” she asked.
I scanned the room. “See that big oaf in the corner with the two girls.” Grace nodded. “That's big Mike.” I pointed over at the other end of the bar. “That's Mason over there with the gray hair and glasses.”
“Oh yeah, I remember him from the hospital.”
“The rest of the MC are probably back at the clubhouse.”
Grace nursed her drink and looked around acting bored. How could I engage her more? I'd never really been on a date before. My experience was one-night stands. I didn't even know most of their names. All it took was one look from across the bar and they'd be under my sheets within the hour. What do people normally talk about on dates?
“Why did you become a doctor?” I asked, shuffling closer to her.
Grace returned to me, batting her long eyelashes. She seemed surprised by my question. Maybe that was a good thing? “It started when I was a kid,” she began. “My parents wanted me to become a doctor since I was six years old. I never dreamed of doing anything else. They pushed me and my younger sister to be the best. Anything lower than an A- wasn't good enough for them.”