Tough s.h.i.t.

She continued, waving her hand in my direction. "Well, this is that someone."

"I...see." He turned to her, a disappointed look plastered across those old wrinkles. "So, in exchange for rescuing you, you just thought that you'd throw this stranger a little pity f.u.c.k?"

Angel was visibly stunned.

"Hey," I told him. "I don't know who the f.u.c.k you are, but don't you dare talk to her like that."

The man chuckled. "Got a mouth on you, too. I'll have you know that Angel lives here, rent-free, under a few conditions. Rule number one, no boys."

"I'm not a boy," I growled.

"Yes...I can see that," he observed, his withered glance sliding along my muscles. "And that's even worse."

He turned to face her, and she wilted under his angry gaze.

"Nice to see that you have such reverence for my rules. You have disappointed me, Angel. I thought that I had been very clear what would happen if you did. Have I not put you up here, taken care of you, and put up with your constant rulebreaking? And now this."

"I'm sorry, Old Greg," she murmured. "Don't throw me back out. I was only patching him up, honest. He just woke up. Ask him."

Old Greg glowered at me.

"Is this true?"

I thought about spitting out some sort of retort. Of punishing him for daring to come between us, or her for leaping up and ripping my prize away.

"Yeah, it's true," I answered begrudgingly.

"But you're shirtless."

"You're observant, aren't you?" He was seriously p.i.s.sing me off, and I couldn't help but take the pot shot. But before his indignant glare could smolder into action, I quickly added: "I took a few hits. She was making sure my ribs weren't broken."

After a moment to stifle his reaction, the old man nodded, apparently accepting this explanation.

"Which reminds me... next time, you let the hospital handle your wounded friends. Angel, you told me that you're supposed to be letting that part of your life go. Always patching people up yourself. Isn't that true?"

"Yes sir," she quietly agreed.

"Because it doesn't look like that now." He pointed at me. "He should be seeing a doctor right now. Not lying around in the back of a bar. I mean, what kind of supplies do we seriously have? What if he needs an emergency room? You should have sent him from here in an ambulance."

"I'm in good shape," I cut in.

"No son, you look as bad as your att.i.tude. Both of which are absolute s.h.i.t," he grumbled throatily. A slight cough rumbled out from his chest, and he quieted it with a handkerchief. "Tell me, is that your fancy jeep out front?"

"That's right," I answered.

"Good. Can you drive?"

"I think so," I blurted out.

I realized my mistake too late.

"Fine. Get in your jeep and drive, then."

I swallowed angrily.

Old Greg continued. "Closest after-hours clinic is a few miles down the Interstate. Head east. Look for Brightsdale. Pa.s.s the welcome sign, a mile down on the left. Can't miss it. Big bright building, probably the only one with the lights on at this time of night."

Angel's eyes met mine. She was hurt and confused, but I could tell she was resigned to this.

I, on the other hand, wasn't so convinced.

"You want me out? After I saved your tenant?"

Old Greg bristled. "Son, as the owner of the roof currently over your head, I want you seeking proper medical attention, instead of sniffing around my tenant as you so respectfully put it."

I wanted to lash out.

I wanted to hit him.

But I bit my tongue.

When I didn't snap at his words, the owner visibly softened even if only by a little. With a deep sigh, he pointed over at Angel.

"Don't get me wrong: you saved her. I'm grateful. The sheriff told me what you did, and I shudder to think what would have happened if you weren't here."

I couldn't help myself.

"This sort of thing happen often?"

Old Greg soured.

"Not usually, no. I have no earthly idea what got into them tonight. You see, now I have to go through the trouble of figuring out a bouncer for a little while..."

"Right. Not a bad idea. Better than leaving her here alone with patrons you two clearly can't control."

He looked me in the eyes, deciding whether or not to jump into a fresh round of pa.s.sive-aggressive arguing with me. Only, I was prepared to back it up a little more viciously this time, fueled by a rock-hard c.o.c.k that demanded release.

This idiot had f.u.c.ked it all up.

Things had been going great.

"Yes... you're right," he conceded. "And I will figure out what to do about that very soon. Now then, I'm going to politely ask you to leave my bar. Make me ask again... maybe it's not so nice next time."

"Can she walk me out?" I asked him.

The crusty bar owner turned to her, and then nodded. "If Angel wants, so long as she's back inside shortly. She's got a d.a.m.n hole in my roof that needs patching. I'm amazed, frankly, that you didn't blow my whole f.u.c.king bar down."

Pushing my confidence and arrogance aside, I decided to leave on a high note. "I'm sorry for the trouble, sir," I extended my hand. "I'll be on my way."

Old Greg nodded quickly, but ignored the gesture all the same. "Two minutes," he a.s.signed me. "More than enough time for the two of you."

I let his blatant disrespect slide, and instead just walked out the door. Angel dejectedly fell into step beside me right afterwards. We hung around at the jeep for a moment.

"You're not coming back, are you?" She asked morosely as she twisted her hair in her fingers. It was kind of sad to see, even for me.

"Do you have a cell phone?" I redirected the conversation. "Some way of getting in touch with you?"

"No, no phone," she responded quietly.

Wow. No phone, living in the back of a bar, and I barely saw anything that looked like it could be hers...

"That's a shame, because I still owe you for trying to patch me up," I told her. An opportunity was already formulating in the back of my head. "RipFest doesn't shut shop tonight. We're playing another set tomorrow night. You should come."

"But that's so far," she mumbled, glancing vaguely in the right direction. "There's no way I can walk that, and I have to patch that hole tonight..."

"Don't need to walk it," I replied calmly. Yes, this is all falling into place. "You're staying here, right? I'll send someone to pick you up."

"You'd do that?" She was stunned.

"Of course. Least I can do," I smiled. It was hard to keep my wickedness out of my voice.

Angel apparently saw that, and hesitated for a moment. It was enough for my smile to falter. f.u.c.k. Did I just overplay this? "But I, well... I guess it's true that I'm not working tomorrow night..."

"Want to see a real rock star in his element? I'll get you a backstage pa.s.s. You'll watch the show from the sidelines. No fighting through sweaty crowds and mosh pits. You'll be safe with a view to kill for."

"That sounds incredible," she murmured, still carefully watching my eyes. "What time?"

"I'll have someone pick you up here around 4 o'clock. That'll get you there in time to see our set... And all the other sets, too. We're sharing the stage with some f.u.c.king legends."

She was quiet for a moment. "Old Greg is out of town tomorrow. He probably won't even know that I've left. This could work."

"You think so?" I asked.

"Alright," Angel nodded, not without some reluctance. "Yeah. I guess it's a deal."

"You bet it is," I whispered, slipping a fingertip below her chin. She shivered at my touch, staring into my eyes fearfully. It would be so easy to kiss her right now.

No. I'll wait.

There's a better time for this.

Instead, I told her goodbye, slipped into my jeep, and whipped out of the parking lot. Before she disappeared from view, I turned over my shoulder to give her one more little wave. I smiled knowingly to myself.

Just a brief delay.

No big deal.

I felt my usual confidence rush back into my veins, my swagger emboldened by my understanding of where I belonged in the universe.

Where she belonged.

Which was around my c.o.c.k, tomorrow night.

Who needs the back of a rickety old bar?

I'd rather f.u.c.k you in the tour bus, anyway.

8.

Angel

When I woke up hours later in my familiar old cot, I crawled out of bed and brushed my teeth. Peering at my sleepy gaze in the mirror, I wondered why I was so exhausted. But then, it all came flashing back, in a slideshow montage of events in my head.

The bikers, trying to rape me.

The rocker, shirtless and oh so handsome.

The seductive way he looked at me.

How close I'd been to giving myself up.

Sweet Caramel Jesus on a stick.

How f.u.c.king stupid had I been? I could barely believe it. Hot or not, no boy had ever had that kind of effect on me. I mean, yeah, I felt like I was a little indebted to him for rescuing me and taking those punches. But...

Old Greg had been right.

I'd almost f.u.c.ked him.

I'm such an idiot.

That look in his eyes...that seductive, low yarl of a baritone in his singing voice... and then there was all that bulls.h.i.t at the end of the night. He'd been putting serious moves on me, coercing me to come along to see him play life. I could see the burning l.u.s.t in his eyes, and I knew that he didn't really give a rat's a.s.s about me.