Jay Crownover - Rome

We stared at each other in a tense silence for a long time. I was trying to figure out if he was serious and I think he was waiting to see if I was going to waffle or not. Finally I had to blink, so I leaned back in the stool with a sigh.

“Are you sure you don’t just want me to come regulate, like watch the door for you for a few weeks or something? Then no one would have to worry about bleeding on the floor in the first place.”

He barked out a laugh that made me cringe.

“No offense, son, but last time you were in a scuffle in here, you were the one that had to get dragged to the doc.”

I made a face and tried not to let the truth of it sting my already wounded pride. “I was drunk, and outnumbered.”

“It doesn’t matter. I don’t need a bouncer. I need a helping hand, someone I can trust, and someone that can be in here and not judge, because maybe, just maybe, he sees a little bit of himself in some of the regulars.”

It took every single fiber of self-control I had not to react to his dead-on assessment of how I was feeling. I had to fight not to fidget but to just sit still and try and think of any good excuse not to do what he was asking me to do. When nothing came to mind, it made that dark place I was hovering on get just a little bit wider.

Not even six months ago I was in charge of over a hundred men. I planned clandestine missions, I was the go-to guy for all the answers and solutions, and none of that translated to any kind of goddamn real-world job experience. I indeed had way too much free time on my hands and no end in sight for it. It made my head hurt and my heart speed up a little in my chest, so I cleared my throat and told Brite thanks when he set a glass of water down in front of me.

“Are you sure you wouldn’t rather me write you a check?”

He shook his head and that grin I was really starting to mistrust broke through once again.

“Nope. I don’t need your cash, I need you.”

Seeing that there really was no way around it if I wanted to be a man of my word, I nodded solemnly. I wanted to show this burly man who I respected without question, because I felt like we were kindred spirits, that I might not know where I was going or what I was doing but I still had more honor than one man needed in this lifetime.

“All right. I can do what you need me to do. How long do you think it’ll all take?”

He laughed long and hard, so hard that some of the other regulars looked our way in curiosity. I didn’t see why it was funny but I kept my mouth shut.

“As long as it takes, son.”

That seemed vague and open-ended, but before I could make him hammer down a more definitive time frame, he slapped his meaty hands down on the bar in front of me and leaned across the wooden expanse so that we were eye to eye. It was unnerving to have those dark eyes peer so intently into my own, but I immediately understood that whatever he was going to follow up with was to be taken seriously. This was without a doubt Brite’s I’m serious as hell face.

“No drinking while you’re working. I mean it.”

I frowned a little. “Okay.”

“I’m serious, Rome. I know firsthand how easy it can be to lose track of what it’s like trying to live outside the bottle. What you do in your free time is of no concern to me, you want to pickle your liver that’s your choice to make, but while you’re here, I won’t watch another good man go down.”

“Weren’t you the one pouring me endless shots of Wild Turkey the other night?” I would rather have all my teeth removed from my head by rusty pliers than admit how often a bottle of Belvedere was putting me to bed these days.

“It was the Fourth; every soldier should be allowed to celebrate what they have given up to support freedom, no matter how long ago that victory was.”

I considered him carefully, but couldn’t fault him his reasoning, so I just shrugged.

“All right, I don’t think that should be a problem.”

“It won’t be a problem.”

Jeez, this guy sounded like the very first drill sergeant I had when I enlisted.

“Okay, Brite, it won’t be a problem.”

His teeth appeared through the tangle of facial hair again and he smacked his palms flat on the bar.

“Excellent. You’ll meet the rest of the gang eventually as we go along. The Sons of Sorrow haven’t been back in, but if they come, I’ll have a talk with the chapter president and let him know he better rein his prospects in. I don’t mind a fistfight here or there, it gives the place character and keeps things interesting, but I have a hard-and-fast rule and no one, and I mean no one, touches servicemen or women when they’re in here. Everyone knows that.”

I laughed a little and climbed to my feet.

“It’s the American Legion.”

Brite laughed with me and picked up a bar towel. “Civilian life can be a real bitch to settle back into, sometimes it helps to have a place that feels more familiar. That’s what the Bar is all about, son.”

Since I was feeling so adrift myself, I had to admit what he was talking about sounded not only nice but also particularly necessary. I slapped my ball cap back on my head and shook Brite’s hand. I agreed that I would be back tomorrow when he opened the doors at ten in the morning. I wasn’t exactly excited about it, but it was the first time since I got back to the States that I actually had someplace to be. And that felt more right than anything had in a long time.

I would’ve gotten up early the next morning, but considering I was sleeping fitfully at best, I was wide-awake already when my alarm went off at eight. Since Nash normally didn’t have to go into work until noon, we usually tried to hit up the gym before he went in—that is, if he made it home from wherever he spent the night before. I think he felt bad for me, because while he and Rule had a pretty lax gym ritual they usually adhered to, I went every morning, and since I’d moved in he had managed to trudge along or at least made the effort to try. I needed the gym to work out the things chasing me in my subconscious, and even if I didn’t feel like a warrior anymore, at least I could still look like one. Besides, I was just too big; if I didn’t go to the gym, I would turn into a blob of a man in no time flat, especially since I was no longer out running PT and ops with kids ten years younger than me on the regular.

I was rubbing my eyes and making coffee when Nash’s bedroom door opened. I never knew if it was going to be him coming out or some dewy-eyed young thing that looked like she had been through the sex spin cycle. Nash and my brother both had a way about them that drew attention from the opposite sex in a way I just never really understood. Not that I lived like a choirboy in my youth, but I had never been the kind of guy who wanted quantity over quality. That made my momentary lapse with the trashy redhead even more stupid. Man, maybe I really did deserve having my ass kicked the other night.

Nash was flying solo this morning, which was unusual. He was pulling a T-shirt on over his head and muttering a few swearwords under his breath. I handed him a cup of coffee and asked him what was wrong.

He just shook his head and cracked his neck.

“I’m trying to get my uncle to go to the doctor and he’s being stubborn. Cora called after work last night saying he sounds like he’s hacking up a lung and looks pale. He’s insisting that it’s just a cold, but even over the phone I can tell he sounds terrible.”

I knew they were really close. Uncle Phil had raised Nash and been more of a parent to Rule than my own folks. I didn’t know much about the man, but by all accounts he was a real stand-up guy and I knew the guys held him in really high regard.

“Maybe it really is just a bad cold.”