Page 27

DIESEL

M errick and I stand behind the bar on one of those rare lulls where everybody has a drink, nobody’s getting in a fight, and it feels pretty fine to own an establishment like the Leaky Skull.

Tonight’s live band is less thrashing than usual, and we can make out a word or two of the lyrics here and there.

Vicki’s actually taking orders for once.

It’s all the usual crowd. Two-Shit and his woman, Stoney, Low Joe, Chain. The whole Wild Hair MC, about thirty of them in leather cuts even though it’s pushing ninety degrees.

And a good contingent of military types, some in fatigues. I like this. The difference between the vets and the bikers is in the posture, the manner of dress, and the haircuts, for sure.

But they have a lot in common. They laugh loudly but not often, defaulting to something more serious once the joke’s over. They scan the room without even thinking about it, looking for a threat or the stirrings of one. They don’t relax.

Two-Shit sidles up the bar. “You two look like jacked-up gargoyles,” he says, slapping the counter. “Get me a whiskey and a shot of rum for my woman.”

I turn and pull bottles while Merrick reaches above the bar for glassware.

“Rocks?” I ask to fuck with him because I know he takes it neat.

“Do I look like fucking Double-O-seven to you?” Two-Shit asks. “Don’t answer that. I’m way more of a badass.”

I pour the whiskey and slide it over to him, then fill the shot. “There you go.”

“I’ll settle up. I got a hard-on that isn’t going to fuck itself.” He shoves a wad of cash at me.

Jake takes it and heads to the till. I always prefer a degree of separation between me and the money changing hands if I can help it. Some of these men have shot people for less than shortchanging them, but I can intervene with more ease when I’m the third party.

Jake gives Two-Shit his change. The front door opens, and I know before looking that trouble has walked in. Everybody feels it.

“Well, damn,” Merrick mutters. “I’ll handle it.”

I turn to look. Marietta crosses the bar, timid and unsure. Symphony isn’t with her. She’s come alone.

This might be worse.

Merrick hops over the bar to approach her. “All right. Come with me right now before you cause any trouble.”

I yank my phone from my pocket.

Marietta notices. “Please don’t text Symphony I’m here,” she cries. “She’ll be so mad. She told me to check to make sure I wasn’t banned, but I didn’t.”

Carla, one of the regulars, shouts, “You bannin’ little girls now, fuckface?”

There’s a general grumble.

Now I wish we had a thrasher for a band. I want to tell the one we’ve got to take it up a notch, but they choose that moment to go on break. Great.

I hold up my hands. “Nobody’s banned. Go on about your business.”

Merrick stands by Marietta. “What do I do with her?”

“Give me a drink,” she says. “I’ve been working on my tolerance. I can take three shots without getting drunk.”

Merrick blows out a long gust of air. He’s trying to figure out what to do.

I decide to let him handle it and shove the phone back in my pocket.

“Did you drive out here?” he asks.

“Yeah.”

“You can have one drink, then. One.”

Marietta sits on a stool.

I half expect someone to bring up her incident from last weekend, but nobody does. I head to the sound system to pipe music in until the band goes back on stage.

When I come back, the drummer has sat down next to her. “I’ll have what she’s having.” He grins at her. “Or you can have what I’m having.”

Marietta smiles big. “Okay!”

Merrick scowls, his arms over his chest.

Huh. I didn’t think he had any interest in the shy wildling.

“You go on,” Merrick says the man. “Jake will get you something at the other end of the bar.”

The drummer frowns, but he knows where his bread is buttered. There aren’t many gigs for a band like his, and he won’t piss us off. Even so, he tells Marietta, “I’ll sing one for you later.”

“Okay!” Marietta’s eyes are bright, shining as blue as her T-shirt.

But I can see my brother in the mirror. He’s hovering.

“One drink,” he says. “I’ll make you something.”

“Ohhh,” she says. “Yes, please!”

I catch Jake staring at Marietta’s shirt. She isn’t the bra-wearing kind, and he does not seem to be able to handle it. “Eyes to yourself. Refill the peanut bowls, will ya?”

He takes off for the kitchen to fetch the bucket. When I glance back at Merrick, he’s returned to his place behind the bar and started making a Cosmopolitan, extremely light on the liquor.

Despite Marietta’s plea, I text Symphony anyway.

Me: Marietta’s here.

She replies right away.

Symphony: What? When?

Me: Five minutes ago. Merrick is giving her a light drink. We’ll watch her.

Symphony: Should I come?

Me: No. I’m not supposed to tell you.

Symphony: What should we do?

Me: We’ll figure it out if there’s any trouble. She’s already caught a few eyes. You think she’ll do something crazy again?

Symphony: Honestly, she might. She’s always been quiet and studious. I think she’s going through something.

Me: So her metamorphosis is at my bar.

Symphony: I can come. It’s no trouble. I kind of want to do you on your desk.

Down, boy, I tell my dick.

Me: That’s definitely going to happen. But let’s see how this plays out. Stand by.

Symphony: Roger that.

Merrick stands across the bar from Marietta. They appear to be deep in a conversation, both of them leaning across the surface so they can hear each other.

I wonder if something’s going on there. Shouldn’t be. When would it? As far as I know, this is only the third time they’ve laid eyes on each other.

The band takes the stage and cranks the noise level. I’m relieved that we won’t have any trouble from that quarter. We’ll get Marietta out of here before their set ends, and the drummer tries to shoot another shot.

Patrons line up at the bar, and Vicki calls for six Jack and cokes while she pulls out a cigarette.

Jake and I handle the influx easily, and I wave off Merrick when he looks like he’s about to leave Marietta to help. I need him there to make sure that girl’s shirt stays where it ought to.

But Stone waves Merrick over, leaving Marietta alone. That will not do. As soon as Vicki’s off with the tray, I sidle over to her end of the bar. “Is Merrick going to give you that ride?”

“I think so.” She stares into her glass. “Do you know a lot about your brother?”

“Yeah.”

She keeps her eyes cast downward. “Do you tell him everything?”

“Not necessarily.”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Depends.”

“It’s about your brother.”

I figured. “Are you asking how to murder him in his sleep? Because I’ll gladly tell you the steps.”

Her mouth falls open. “No!”

“All right, lay it on me.”

Then she does. “Has he ever been with a virgin?”

I work hard to keep a straight face. “He is one.”

She sits up straight, her face bright and excited. “Really?”

I laugh. “Hell no. And he’s probably broken more cherries than a pastry chef.”

“Oh.” She hunches down.

“Are you interested in him?”

Her cheeks go pink. “No. I mean. Maybe.”

Of course, she is. That’s all Merrick needs. A virginal wisp of a thing trying to sow her oats. I better put her off. “He’s not much on girlfriends.”

“But you weren’t either and look at you and Symphony.”

Fuck. I knew this was going to cost me, but now I’m dragging my brother in on it. “Just know what you’re getting into.”

The drummer takes that moment to lean into his mic. “And this love song goes out to the pretty girl in blue at the bar.”

Everyone turns to look at Marietta. She presses her hand to her cheek.

Merrick looks up from the drink he’s mixing. I can’t quite get a bead on his expression, but it’s not good. “They’re fired,” he says.

Marietta whirls around. “Why? Because he’s singing me a song, and you won’t give me a ride?”

He shoves the drink at the man. “Oh, I’ll give you a fucking ride. I’ll ride you all the way into next goddamn week.”

I push on Merrick. “Let’s go check on the kegs.” I practically shove him through the door to the kitchen.

“What the fuck?” Merrick asks. “I’m just going to rail her and get it over with.”

“She’s a fucking cherry, bro. Don’t go there. She’ll expect a proposal. Let this one go.”

He breathes hard, glaring at me so hard I think his eyes are going to pop. “That piece of shit drummer is all over her.”

“I’ll get Pops to give her a ride.” Pops is a soft-hearted biker who settles a lot of disputes for the Wild Hair MC.

He takes a step back. “Why?”

“That’s all she wants. Some thrill.”

He crosses his arms. “No.”

“No?” What the hell has gotten into him?

Merrick’s jaw is set. “If she wants a motorcycle ride, I’ll do it.”

I shove his shoulder. “You like her.”

“Fuck you. I just want to be the one. In case.”

“Don’t fuck her on your bike. Take it easy.”

He shoves back at me. “You think I don’t know that?”

I punch his jaw, and he punches back. We scuffle until Vicki pushes through the swinging doors to throw a pitcher of water on us. “You goddamn Neanderthals were born in a barn. Knock it the fuck off and get out there before someone drinks straight from the kegs.”

I flip my hair and head into the bar.

Marietta’s gone. Shit, what now?

Merrick follows me in and notices her empty stool first thing.

“Where is she?” he asks, scanning the space.

“Maybe she’s in the bathroom,” I suggest.

Vicki comes around. “She left. Are you two beating each other up over that slip of a thing? That girl wouldn’t hold up to a gust of wind.”

Merrick jumps over the bar and heads for the door. I’m tempted to follow him, but there’s a line for drinks, and it seems Vicki’s not working again. Jake is pulling beer like there’s no tomorrow.

Fine. I take a handful of orders and line up the mugs to pull the draughts.

He’s back in no time. “She’s gone,” he says. “Her green Bug isn’t out there.”

I shut off the tap. “Well, hell. Wonder what spooked her.”

“No fucking telling.”

“Next time,” I tell him.

He moves the full mugs to the bar side. “If there is one.”

Interesting. Seems maybe both of us have the bug.

“You think Grammy put a hex on us during the wedding?” I ask.

“You were the only one there,” he says. “I’m fine. It’s fine.”

But the way he slams glassware around tells me he’s anything but.