For You by Kristen Ashley
“Take a load off, I’ll bring ‘em out,” Mimi told them.
Colt led Cheryl to a table at the window not wanting her near Feb’s place or the scratches that declared it so. Cheryl had enough to deal with, she didn’t need to see that Feb belonged in a warm, welcoming coffee house with a proprietress who smiled and made orgasmic fucking brownies though he suspected she already knew if she watched any of the tapes. But she didn’t need to know the fact that Feb belonged in a place like this so much, her name was etched into the furniture.
Cheryl sat with a view to the street. Colt sat with a view to the door.
They were silent until after Mimi left their order on the table and walked away.
“I know you think I’m a moron,” Cheryl told Colt, her mouth hard, her eyes though, now on him, held hurt.
“Trusting someone nice to you doesn’t make you a moron. It makes the person who fucked you over an asshole,” Colt replied.
She jerked her eyes from him and looked out the window.
“Feds talk to you about protection?” Colt asked and Cheryl didn’t acknowledge his question so he went on. “Denny’s behaving erratically, Cheryl, be good for you to take your son and disappear for awhile.”
“Got a friend in Ohio, he doesn’t know about her,” she muttered, eyes at the window, “already called her.”
“Good,” Colt said and leaned forward, took out his wallet, pulled out a card and slid it across the table to her before he put his wallet back and leaned back in his chair. Cheryl eyed his card but didn’t touch it.
“You take that card, Cheryl,” he said quietly and her eyes came to his but her body didn’t turn to him. “You find another man, you call me. I’ll run a check on him, see he’s clean.”
She rolled her eyes, not like Feb, not with humor at the foibles of the world, but with disgust, before she shook her head twice and said, “Right.”
“Cheryl –”
She turned bodily to him and wrapped her arms around her chest, grabbing her biceps, protective again but her voice was fuelled with acid. “I know what he did. Denny,” she spat out the name, “killed folks. You think I’m gonna find another man? You’re fuckin’ crazy.”
“I know it won’t seem like it now but you’ll find a time when you change your mind.”
“Bullshit,” she hissed, voice quiet but both furious and terrified, leaning toward him. “He’s been around my kid! I been fuckin’ a murderer!”
Colt leaned forward too and said, just as quiet but with no fury or terror, just force, “No, you thought you were fuckin’ me.”
“Makes it better?” she asked, brows going up, disbelief filling her face. She thought he was nuts.
“Yeah. It does.”
“You that good?” Now she was sarcastic.
“No complaints, Cheryl,” he told her honestly, “the thing is, I work hard to be a good cop, a good friend and that’s what he was playin’ at. That’s what he showed you. That’s what he wanted you to believe. You believed it, lick your wounds but let ‘em heal and move on. When you do, you come to me and I’m tellin’ you now, I’ll do what I can to make sure you move on to the right guy.”
“So, this a new service cops provide to gals like me?”
“No, this is somethin’ I’d do for you because we both been fucked over by a sick fuck who threw you into hell and has been makin’ me and my woman live in one for twenty-two years. Anyone finds out I offered it, much less did it, I’d be fucked. But still, I’m offerin’ it to you. Throw away the card, I don’t give a fuck. But it was me, someone fucked me over and another person showed me a kindness, I’d take it. I’m guessin’ you don’t get much kindness thrown at you. Ryan, me, not much else, am I right?”
She looked away. He was right.
“Learn one thing from this, Cheryl,” Colt advised. “Learn to see a kindness, a real one, when it’s handed to you and learn to take it.”
She closed her eyes and twisted her neck, her face exposing pain before she opened her eyes and stared out the window again.
She wasn’t giving him anything more.
Colt took a sip from his to go cup and called to Mimi, “Meems, wrap up a couple more of those brownies and a few cookies. Cheryl here has a kid.”
“You betcha, Colt,” Mimi called back.
Colt turned to Cheryl and started to stand, saying, “I’ll leave you to your thoughts.”
He was on his feet before he heard her ask, “Twenty-two years?”
He looked down at her to see she was still staring out the window. “Yeah.”
She shook her head and the tears hit her eyes. The wall of hardness she’d built was flimsy, likely how Denny got in.
“You really All-State? Play at Purdue?” she asked, her eyes never leaving the window.
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you go pro?”
“Good enough for Purdue, not near good enough for pro.”
“You want that?”
“Nope. I wanted to be a cop.”
She tipped her head back to look at him and he noticed for the first time she was very pretty. Not because she looked like Feb. All on her own.
A tear slid down her cheek and she said, “I wanted to be a dancer. Looks like we both got what we wanted, hunh?”
The words had the edge of bitterness which coated an underlying sadness.
“Card works a second way, Cheryl,” Colt said softly. “It works for kids who wanna learn to play football.”
She closed her eyes and new tears slid down her face.
“Got a friend named Morrie who’s got a boy, Palmer,” Colt went on. “We toss a ball around a lot. Ethan would be welcome.”
She nodded but looked away without a word.
“Feb would want to meet you,” he pushed it, speaking quietly.
“Why?” she asked the window.
“Because she’s a woman who’s led a lonely life forced on her by a number of shitty guys and she’s found her way through. She’d know what you’re feelin’ and she’d listen, or not, you don’t feel like talkin’. She owns a bar, least she could do is make you a drink.”
Cheryl put her hand to her ponytail, tugged it and said softly, “Right about now, I could use a drink.”
“J&J’s, two doors down, you can’t miss it and you’re welcome.”
She said no more, Mimi came up with a filled white bag and said to Colt, “I’ll put it on your tab.”
“Catch you on that tomorrow,” Colt told her as she set the bag beside Cheryl’s untouched brownie and quickly took off.
“Later, Cheryl,” Colt said and turned to the door.
“Lieutenant Colton?” she called, he stopped and looked at her.
“Friends call me Colt.”
She swallowed before she nodded and went on. “Colt,” then she whispered, “thanks for not bein’ an asshole.”
He smiled at her. It wasn’t the best compliment he’d ever had but, from Cheryl, it was likely one of the better ones she had to give.
Then he left.
* * * * *
At ten past six, Colt entered J&J’s, looked to the bar, saw Feb and didn’t get the jaw tilt.
She turned, walked down to his end and he met her there.
“Reece okay?”
Colt slid onto his stool. “Checked in, safe and sound and now on the alert for a hatchet murderer. Thinkin’ about takin’ a vacation.”
She closed her eyes and whispered, “Thank God.”
Colt fought back the jealousy her obvious emotion for this Reece guy caused. She didn’t need that now. They’d talk about the fact that she’d need to phone Reece and let him know that contact would be minimal and friendly from here on in but they’d talk about it later. And he’d share then that that contact would be very minimal and more cordial than friendly.
She opened her eyes and asked, “Off duty?”
“Yeah, baby. Beer.”
She twisted, got him a beer and set it in front of him.
“So, you
She was still wearing the relief on her face, shoving the last drama aside and letting the next snatch of the good life in before the shit hit again. She reached under the bar and pulled up two white, square Styrofoam containers.
“Ham and cheese?” Colt asked.
Feb shook her head.
“Oh fuck, another tenderloin?”
She smiled then flicked the latch and the Styrofoam flipped opened.
“Patty melt!” she announced then burst out laughing, so hard she flopped down beside the food, her arm bent on the bar, her head on it, her hair flying everywhere.
She was hysterical and he should have called her about Reece. Then again, he found out that Reece was safe ten minutes ago so he walked the news to the bar. He didn’t know if that ten minutes would have stopped her from cracking up but he was learning that he probably shouldn’t have taken that chance.
He put his hand to the back of her neck and called, “February.”
Her shoulders were shaking and she also shook her head.
“I’m all right,” she told the bar then straightened, his hand fell away, she pulled her hair from her face and took in a breath before repeating, “I’m all right.”
“Be a cryin’ shame, honey, you miss me earnin’ an omelet because you cracked up.”
“An Omelet a la Feb,” she corrected him.
“I can’t say that,” he told her.
“Why not?”
“I’m a man, Feb. I don’t say shit like, ‘a la’ anything.”
She started laughing again, luckily this time not hysterically, before she said, “I’m not gonna crack up, Colt.”
“Promise me, baby.”
She leaned toward him, putting her elbows on the bar and whispered, “I promise.”
Colt leaned toward her, wrapped his hand around the back of her head, pulled her to him and kissed her.
When he pulled back, she asked, “So, how many folks are yanking out their cell phones just about now?”
Colt grinned at her and said, “Fuck ‘em.”
“Wanna move to China with me?”
“China?” he asked.
“Yeah, that’s my next stop. Bet the Chinese won’t care you kissed me in a bar.”
“Soundin’ good, baby.”
“Now, you wanna know what I got for dinner?”
“Sure.”
“Reuben.”
“Sounds better than a patty melt.”
“I ordered a ham and cheese.”
Colt burst out laughing before he wrapped his hand behind her head and kissed her again.
“Trade ya,” he said when he sat back.
“You’re on,” she smiled before she got herself a diet.
* * * * *
I should have known it wouldn’t be an uneventful night because that wasn’t happening much for me these days.
The bar for a Thursday was busy. This sucked, not because we couldn’t use the money, we could always use the money. This sucked because it was so busy I didn’t get a lot of time to stand at Colt’s end of the bar talking to him. We’d been able to chat while we ate but I wanted to know how he felt about his shitty day, take his pulse about Amy and her note and, mostly, I just wanted to stand at his end of the bar and talk to him. Being busy meant I couldn’t do that which sucked.
Morrie was home with Delilah, still working hard on taking the trial out of their trial reconciliation and when Colt got there, I’d sent Mom and Dad home for a night of rest. It was Darryl, me and Ruthie with Colt playing my bodyguard. I didn’t like this either, this meant Colt would have a long night of it, unless the crowd lightened and I could get him home. I could trust Ruthie to close if the crowd got light, Darryl, not so much.
It was when Stew and Aaron walked in that I knew there was going to be trouble.
I knew this because Stew was an asshole, always was, always would be. He’d brought trouble into that bar more than once when Mom and Dad were running it and also after Morrie and I had taken over. Stew was two years older than Colt and had been married once, for six months, which was all his woman could take. No other woman was dumb enough to try it for even that long.
Aaron, on the other hand, was a nice guy, in Colt’s class at school. He was married, happily as far as I knew, and had two daughters he doted on. He and Stew hadn’t been friends in high school or close after. How and when they hooked up, I didn’t know. I just knew Stew could be trouble and Aaron was often along for the ride, mostly, it seemed, solely to yank Stew out of the trouble he caused. Why he put up with Stew was anyone’s guess. I couldn’t understand it but maybe, with home and hearth, wife and two girls, he needed to take a walk on the wild side that was Stew every once in awhile. Personally, I would have picked something else.
I also knew there was going to be trouble because I felt it coming from Colt’s end of the bar.
Colt looked for all the world like he was casually enjoying a beer at his best friend and reconciled girlfriend’s bar. But everyone knew he was being vigilant. He clocked Stew the minute Stew walked in and the hostility coming from Colt was palpable.
At first I didn’t get it. Except for the fact that everyone knew Stew was an asshole.
Then I got it.
Back in the day Stew was the first person who spread the rumor that he’d nailed me. The only one in town who’d have balls enough to break the seal and court Colt’s wrath. That was how much of an asshole he was. But, worse than that, he never touched me. I didn’t like him back then either and I’d never even kissed him, nor would I, not even if I was trashed.
Also, Aaron did the same. It was later, after Stew, before they became friends and it was different. And it hurt because I actually liked him. The difference was, I got sauced and made out with Aaron mostly because I liked him. He seemed to be a good guy, nice looking and, with him, I had some hope. So at some party we hooked up and went at it, even though I didn’t let him get his hands up my shirt. It only happened once and then Aaron called and asked me out but by then I’d heard the rumor that he’d fucked me and I told him to take a hike. He told me he didn’t spread it which likely he didn’t. It was likely we’d been seen necking and someone like Stew spread it. Then again, he didn’t say it wasn’t true either.
That last part was the part that hurt.
Those rumors spread far and wide and I knew Colt heard them, everyone did. I knew Colt heard them because after each new one, when he looked at me, he did it with less and less respect. Same as my Dad. And Morrie. And everyone.
That part hurt more.
And I knew now, with Colt knowing the truth, with two men who lied about me hitting J&J’s, the shit was going to hit the fan.
They came to the bar and Darryl cut me off to serve them. Darryl had been working at J&J’s for five years and he’d moved his family to the ‘burg then from a town about half an hour away to do it. A fresh start, mainly because it was the only job he could find after being let out of the joint. He wasn’t cutting me off from Stew and Aaron because he knew about the history, he was doing it because he didn’t like Stew and he didn’t want me anywhere near him.
Darryl had done time twice, both for assault. He’d been to anger management classes so often they could name the program after him. Second time inside, though, he got a counselor he liked to talk to, someone he could trust and he let some shit go. Not all of it, but enough to get a lock on it and keep his cool.
Darryl might not have been the brightest bulb in the box but that didn’t mean he couldn’t read people. You learned that in life, if you paid attention. You learned it in prison, if you wanted to stay healthy. And you learned it in a bar, if you wanted to stop trouble before it started. Therefore, Darryl had a lot of practice.
Darryl also wasn’t dumb enough to know that Morrie and I put up with a lot of his shit. Then again, Morrie and I were smart enough to know that an ex-con who everyone knew had been locked down twice for assault and had the body of a huma
I left Darryl to it and went about my business but I kept an eye out.
I didn’t have to wait. The minute Stew and Aaron paid, Stew took a look at me then his head swung to Colt. Then back to me. He didn’t even hesitate before he wandered toward Colt and I had the distinct feeling his hearing about Colt and I was the reason he came in.
Aaron on the other hand, did hesitate as he should. I saw as the light dawned on him as to Stew’s intentions and he started whispering to Stew. But Stew had his eyes on Colt, his face set and I knew he wanted trouble.
Colt had his eyes on Stew and his face was set too and I knew he was willing to give it to him.
I felt the whole bar tense, watching this and waiting for the showdown.
Stew hit Colt’s end of the bar, settling in, standing right next to Colt.
Stew barely got an elbow down and his head turned to Colt before Colt bellowed, “February!”
It was a bellow, it was loud and it carried.
I was surprised by this. Colt wasn’t a man who bellowed. If Colt had a point to make, he did it quiet. Further, when he was with me and, although it pained me watching him all those years with Melanie, I knew he was gentle with his women. He could tease and be annoying in doing it and he had a temper, definitely. He would raise his voice if he got aggravated but there was never any danger there, not like what I felt from Pete when his temper would start to rear out of control. And I’d learned, watching Colt with Susie and feeling the hit of it myself, he could play dirty, but bellowing… not his style.
Also I wasn’t the type of woman to be summoned by a man. Not that I had many men to be summoned by but the last one I really had, Pete, taught me the valuable lesson that I should always be me. I might have lost hold of me for awhile but one thing was for certain after Pete, February Owens was not someone who was summoned.
However, looking toward the end of the bar, I had to be the February Owens that part-owned J&J’s and didn’t want trouble in her bar. I also had to be the Feb, of the brand new and improved Feb and Colt, and, for whatever reason, and whatever reason that was it was important, my man wanted me.