The man next to Joella kept coughing, which made Avery nervous he had a cold. She didn’t want her friend to get sick. Maybe it was just a smoker’s cough.
She ordered a diet soda and sipped it as her friends danced with the soldiers from the base outside of town. Avery was familiar with it. Once a month, her mother made her and her siblings bake homemade cookies which she delivered to the base. She said it was a nice thing to do for men and women so far from their homes. Avery remembered going there once with her to make the delivery when she was under the weather. She was probably around twelve years old at the time. It was an imposing place with tall fencing and razor wire at the top. The soldiers were all smiles at the prospect of something home baked, though.
“I need another daiquiri,” Joella announced.
“I think you’re doing just fine with your tea,” Avery told her friend.
“I need to pee,” Joella said next, making Avery cringe. If her friend knew the things she was saying, she’d cringe, too.
“Okay, let’s go,” she said and hopped down from the stool.
She helped her friend and waited until she stopped swaying. Joella had just turned twenty-one a few weeks ago, so this was her first foray into alcohol. It wasn’t going well. Avery didn’t drink and had no intention of starting when she was of age but wasn’t going to sit in judgment of her friends if they did. She just didn’t want them making regrettable decisions in a drunken state.
There was a line for the bathroom, so she waited with Joella, leaning against the hallway wall.
“Hey, baby,” a man said behind her.
Avery turned to look up at him. She turned back with the barest hint of a nod acknowledging him.
“I said hey,” he repeated.
“Hello,” Avery said with a touch of antagonism, hoping he’d go away. He was clearly drunk, had long hair that looked like it needed a good washing, and cutting for that matter, and had bloodshot eyes as if he were also on some sort of drugs.
“Wanna’ dance, baby?” he asked, touching her bare arm.
“No, thank you,” she stated more firmly this time and pulled away. He leaned closer, his breath hitting her neck. It caused a grimace. His breath didn’t just smell like beer; it was rank, too.
“Bitch,” he said in a malevolent tone and stalked away, hitting her in the shoulder with his own as he left for the men’s room.
“Wow! What a jerk!” Joella declared.
“Yeah, let’s just steer clear of those kinds,” she warned her friend, who was normally so straight-laced.
They used the facilities, washed their hands, and returned to the bar where Renee and the guy with the tattooed forearms were sitting. She recognized him. Avery was pretty sure he didn’t recognize her, but she’d seen him before. He was at her mother’s office Tuesday. He was a patient.
His dark gaze locked on hers as she approached with Joella and never wavered. His eyes weren’t brown, though. They were a deep blue. But there was just something dark about him. She broke their stare first and looked at Joella instead. He immediately offered her his seat again, which her friend took.
“Tristan was just telling me that they’re going four-wheeling tomorrow and invited us,” Renee told them.
Avery just nodded slowly.
“Got you a tea,” Tristan stated and handed it to her. “Not tampered with. Scout’s honor.”
She nodded self-consciously and thanked the soldier with the neatly trimmed black beard and matching hair that curled over his forehead like Superman.
“We should totally go tomorrow, Avery,” Renee stated, to which she shrugged.
Her friend needed to be more careful. He was a lot more advanced than they were. She could tell by his mannerisms. His friend, Royce, was kissing Sheba’s neck on the dance floor. Another guy had come over and joined their group while she was gone. Tristan introduced him as Freddie. He seemed like quite the character. Whereas Tristan was tall and dark and had arms the size of a small compact car, Freddie was a lanky redhead with freckles and a sweet disposition, if not a bit goofy. He had a crazy laugh, but the other one didn’t laugh at anything.
“Yeah, you should totally come. It’s gonna be so awesome,” Freddie circled back to four-wheeling while eyeing up Joella, who probably wasn’t even on this planet right now.
“Hm, maybe,” Avery answered for them without committing.
“No, you gotta come,” Freddie pleaded, looking at Joella again.
“I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow,” she said evasively.
“Like what?” Renee asked, throwing her under the bus. “Work? Taking care of the kids? Playing tag in the woods?”
Freddie chuckled, “Really?”
“No!” Avery answered tightly with offense and sent her best friend a glare of warning. “Not tag.”
“You guys do, too. You’re always playing in the woods,” Renee kept going.
“We aren’t playing,” she corrected, getting angry and feeling a flush rising up her neck.
“What are you doing? Playing with your kids? I’m confused,” Tristan stated.
Avery opened her mouth to answer but was cut off.
“No, her siblings. They’re always playing airsoft in the woods and stuff like that. It’s like totally crazy at her house,” Renee, an only child, said.
“You weren’t so quick to judge a few weeks ago when you came over and joined us,” she reminded her. Then she mumbled defensively, “And it’s not crazy.”
“Yeah, that’s true. It is pretty fun actually,” she admitted.
Someone bumped Avery from behind and caused her to spill her iced tea on the front of her dress. Great. She should’ve worn the black one.
“Heh, ba…,” the man said in a slurred manner and boldly wrapped an arm around her waist.
She tried to step forward out of his embrace, but he squeezed her too tightly.
“Excuse me,” she complained angrily.
His speech was terribly garbled, nearly incoherent. Avery was pretty sure it was the same man who was rude to her in the line for the restroom.
“Please, sir,” she mumbled and grabbed at his arm, which caused more tea to spill.
It was quickly becoming a scene.
“Hey, asshole, let her go!” Renee yelled at him. Joella joined them and started screaming at the man to release her.
The dark man with blue eyes took a step toward them. Freddie also stood. Two other men from further down the bar rushed toward them, too, but Tristan was the most severe looking.
“Gr…ba…tch,” the man murmured in her ear. Then he tightened his grip and picked her off the ground and swung around with her as if he were just going to carry her off.
“Arms!” she heard Tristan yell behind her as if shouting an order.
“Sir, unhand me this instant!” Avery screamed as he kept walking forward as if she only weighed ten pounds. She dropped her glass, shattering it as she struggled to get free.
Avery twisted her head in time to see Tristan come up behind the man, slip his forearm between her and the man’s neck and grip the back of his skull with his other hand. Freddie rushed to the front of them and tried to pry the man’s arms away from her, obviously what Tristan wanted him to do. Freddie got shoved hard by her assailant’s other arm and went all the way down after stumbling over someone else’s feet who was not involved or even aware of what was going on behind them.
“Steve, Jesus!” someone yelled. “Put her down, man!”
Apparently, some of the men from down the way knew this man and were trying to stop their friend. Without dropping Avery or stopping as Tristan tightened his grip around the man’s throat, Steve punched at a man as he passed him, one of his friends who was trying to deter him, and he went down hard, too.
“Let her go right now, man!” Tristan warned in “Steve’s” ear as Avery continued to struggle.
Steve growled and babbled, “Mmm…gr…mine…ta.”
He was squeezing her so hard she felt like she couldn’t take in a full breath. His unusual blathering and unrecognizable words were frightening her as much as the fact that the man thought it was acceptable to drag her out of the bar like she was his property much the same as a person would collect their pet that ran off.
He used his left elbow and connected with Tristan’s face.
“Oh, you wanna’ play, boy?” Tristan taunted and punched the man in the side of his head. It made a sickening cracking sound. They were all three momentarily thrown off balance and slammed into the wall where she hit her forehead. Then Tristen repositioned his free hand and bore down with all his size and weight on the wrist of his other arm wrapped around the man’s neck. Steve started making awful strangling sounds.
Steve lurched backwards trying to dislodge Tristan from his throat and in the process took Avery off the ground further. She didn’t like that. It made her feel helpless.
The man roared and made one last attempt to keep going. He charged forward, slamming Avery into the railing overlooking the dance floor, which hurt her arm and ribs.
Tristan very calmly stated as if he knew it was over, “Night-nights, motherfucker.”
And they fell in a heaping pile. Avery cracked her jaw against the railing as they went down. Freddie immediately grabbed her by the waist, having come out of nowhere at them again.
“You okay, ma’am?” Freddie asked. Renee was right on his heels, as well as the other men with Tristan from the bar.
She felt like her legs wouldn’t hold her up. She sagged slightly against Freddie’s frame, which was a lot stronger and more stable than she would’ve given him credit for being. They all three watched as Tristan halted his descent on his knees and rolled the man away from him, having choked him until he was dead.
“Is he…?” Renee cried out.
“Nah, dirt nap,” Tristan stated with confidence and bounced to his feet as if grappling with a sexual predator was something he did every day. He was so calm. “He’ll be fine. Cops on their way?”
“Yeah,” the bartender that had waited on them earlier said. She was beside Renee, who was hanging back with Sheba and Tristan’s other friend, Royce. “I called them. What the hell was that? What happened?”
Avery rubbed her sore arm and shrugged as two bouncers came over, a little late to the scene.
“Avery, that was the guy that was bugging you earlier,” Joella mentioned.
“You okay?” Tristan asked, ignoring her friends, and lifted her arm to inspect it where it was already bruising and definitely red. His fingers prodded gently, tenderly, even though he’d just choked a man into unconsciousness with those massive hands and arms.
Avery felt foolish. She was making a big deal out of nothing, so she nodded and blinked back tears. The same bartender who’d waited on them earlier rushed over and handed her a white towel.
“You’re bleeding,” she stated and pointed at Avery’s chin. “I saw you hit that railing. You should go to a hospital. You got pretty banged up.”
“Oh,” she whispered and touched her fingertips there and came away with blood.
“Where’d you get hurt?” Tristan asked. “I know you hit that bar with the force of both of us behind you.”
She shrugged and shook her head, unable to speak because she was afraid she’d actually start crying. Tristan bent slightly to look her in the eye and tipped her chin back gently without touching where she was holding the towel against it. Avery turned her head away. She couldn’t look at him, at anyone. A crowd had gathered. She was humiliated.
“Okay, just stay right here,” he said and held up a hand as if she were a toddler and he was commanding she stay put. He then stepped in front of her, which blocked her from view. Renee slipped her arm around her shoulders. She could feel her body trembling from shock. Nobody had ever touched her like that before. Freddie seemed to understand what his friend was doing, so he mirrored it. Soon Royce and some of the other men had gathered and did the same as Tristan. She and her friends were essentially confined within a protective wall of soldiers. The band kept playing, but Avery just wanted to go home. She didn’t feel safe.
“He’s stirring, Tris,” Royce said.
Tristan called to another man, who Avery remembered as being the man at the door who took the entry fee. He was probably a bouncer, too. He did some sort of hand signal. Avery wanted the heck out of the bar if Steve was waking back up.
“Hey, sorry about that, guys,” Steve’s friend told them. “I don’t know what the hell he was thinking. He’d commented about her earlier. He’d been watching her all night, but hell, lots of dudes were. I didn’t think anything of it. I mean, she’s hot, so I just thought maybe he’d try and get her number or something. Sorry if he hurt your girl, bro’. He was acting weird all day, man.”
He was speaking to Tristan, who didn’t correct the man for thinking she was with him. Instead, he was angry, “What the fuck’s his problem? You can’t just go around grabbing girls like that.”
“No, I know, man!” the guy said. “I don’t know. He’s never done anything like that before.”
“Russ, he was sick earlier,” another one said who Avery couldn’t see through the wall of men’s backs in front of her.
“Nah, he’s been sick for a few days,” the first one corrected. “I don’t know. I hope the cops take him to the hospital, though. Something ain’t right with him. Like he’s havin’ some sort of breakdown or something. He’s been sick with the pukes and fevers. I didn’t even think he’d come tonight.”
The band struck up a particularly peppy line dancing song. None of her friends suggested they join it. The men continued their discussion as the police walked in. Without even pausing to get the full story, they zip tied the man’s wrists behind his back and his feet together, too. He started saying odd words again that weren’t really words at all as he came to. The police carried him out without a word to anyone.
“C’mon, Avery,” Renee said. “They’ll want a statement.”
Her friends went with her, and so did the Army soldiers as if they needed to escort them. Avery felt weak in the knees and unsteady. She was glad for the support of her girls and the men they’d just met.
“I’ll grab our stuff,” Sheba said and left with Royce for the other side of the restaurant where they had a booth.
Tristan held open the door for everyone, and they filed out. She turned to find him right behind her, having cut in line in front of Freddie and Joella. The bouncer was out there, too. The police cruiser with the lights spinning around so brightly in the dark of the night sped away from the bar. There wasn’t another one in the lot.
“Um, where the hell are they going?” Freddie asked as someone placed a jacket around her shoulders. Avery looked up to see Tristan settling his leather jacket on her small frame that felt engulfed by the size and weight of it. He didn’t look at her. He was staring keenly at the police car flying down the street away from them. He stepped away from her, but Avery found herself wishing he wouldn’t. Earlier, she’d felt afraid of him. Then that man had attacked her. Tristan hadn’t been the one she should’ve been scared of then.
“No idea,” he answered Freddie.
“Third time this week,” the bouncer said as her friend and Royce came out of the building and passed around everyone’s belongings including Avery’s white cardigan she’d worn tonight. As she started to shrug off Tristan’s brown leather jacket, he stayed her by holding out his hand as if he didn’t need it. He was only wearing a t-shirt. She was enveloped by the warm jacket and was still freezing.
“What’s going on? Where’s the po-po?” Royce asked and held onto Sheba’s hand.
“They’re gone,” Freddie answered.
“Are we supposed to take her to the police station to give a statement?” Renee asked.
The bouncer shrugged. “You can if you want. It don’t matter.”
“Why wouldn’t it matter?” Tristan asked.
“They’re handling it. Like I said, third time this week they took people outta’ here like that, actin’ like that and all. They ain’t even waitin’ for people to give a statement or get the shit sorted out. Never seen anything like it. People get into fights in bars, they gotta give statements and let the cops sort it out. You know, like they normally do in a bar fight?”
Tristan nodded.
“Yeah, I know you do. You’ve seen some shit,” the bouncer concluded and turned to go back in. “Been a lot o’ weird shit happening around here lately. You kids be careful now, ya’ hear?”
“Yes, sir,” Tristan said to the older man, who was probably around her dad’s age but was built like a bull.
“Thanks for your service, soldier,” the bouncer said to Tristan directly, who inclined his chin a touch higher.
After the bouncer and bartender, who’d been standing in the shadows, retreated into the building again, Freddie said more rhetorically than anything else, “What the hell?”
“This is messed up, Tris,” Spencer, another friend who’d introduced himself earlier, said, obviously looking at Tristan as a leader who should explain it all to them.
He was quiet, though. His eyes were searching nothing at random but his own thoughts. Then he caught her staring at him and walked over to her. “You okay? I think maybe we should take you to the hospital.”
“The hospital’s almost an hour away,” she stated.
“You could have cracked ribs or a broken arm,” he argued and looked like he wanted to ascertain either of those but resisted the urge.
“I’m okay. I don’t need a hospital,” she said.
Renee persisted, “Seriously Avery. He’s right. You should probably get checked out. I’ll go with you.”
“No, you’ve had too much to drink. You can’t drive me. I’m the only one who hasn’t,” she said and winced when she tried to take a deep breath.
“Let me take you,” Tristan volunteered. “Come on. I’ll take you. These guys can all make sure they get each other home.”
“Yeah, I’m sober,” Royce said. Another man stepped forward and said the same. “We’ll drive the girls to their houses, drop them off.”
“But I drove everyone here,” Avery said, thinking of her vehicle sitting in the lot.
“Gimme’ your keys,” Royce said. “Tristan can drive you in his truck. We’ll drop your car at your house, and he can drive himself back to the base after he takes you home later.”
“How will you all get back to the base?” Renee asked.
“I’ve got my Denali here,” the other man said. “I can haul just about all of us in it. We’ll just do a round robin and drop everyone.”
“You guys work it out,” Tristan stated like it was an order and got solid nods from his friends. Then he placed his hand lightly under her elbow. “C’mon. I want you to get checked out.”
He led her to the front of the lot where it was darker near the street and opened her door for her, helped Avery step up into the big pickup truck. Then he shut her door for her. It dawned on her that this exact scenario was something she would’ve warned her friends not to get into. She was leaving a bar with a man in his car, a man she hardly knew for more than an hour.
Tristan drove them out of town and up the state route that would take them to Canton where the only hospitals for a forty-mile radius were located. It was dark once they left town, which made her slightly apprehensive. Her hands were still shaking.
“Cold?” he asked, to which she nodded.
“A little,” she said.
Tristan immediately turned on the heater, and soon, the cab was filled with warmth. Music was playing at a low decibel, something that sounded like classic rock and roll.
“Better?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said.
He scrubbed a hand over his beard as if he were stressed and flipped the station to another playing classical. She recognized Mozart.
“Do-do you like Mozart?”
“Huh?” he asked, shooting her a side glance.
Avery pointed to his radio.
“Oh, yeah,” he said. “It helps me chill when I’m keyed up.”
She thought about that for a second. “Do you often get keyed up?”
He didn’t answer, just chuckled once and ignored her.
“That was so strange,” she remarked, suddenly feeling the need to talk about it. Her voice shook.
“Yeah,” he agreed and didn’t say anything else.
“What was wrong with him? Did…did you hear…I don’t know. I think I was overwhelmed or something.”
She wanted his opinion on the man’s odd use of sounds and guttural words that she couldn’t understand. For some reason, she needed to know that he heard it, too, and that she didn’t just imagine it. There was a long pause, a silence that replaced the heat in the cab and filled it with a void that made Avery uncomfortable. She was used to a lot more noise. At her house, someone was always talking, playing music, playing their piano, or making noise of some kind. Tristan seemed like a lot quieter person.
“D-do you think he was on drugs?” she asked.
Again, silence.
“I think maybe he was on drugs,” she answered her own question, needing to fill the silence. Her eyes darted around nervously. Maybe this was a bad idea. She was starting to feel unsafe.
“You saw him earlier?” he asked finally.
Avery nodded, then frowned because her head hurt. “Yes, when I went to the restroom with Joella. I didn’t want her to go by herself. You know, because she was so…um…”
“Drunk,” he finished for her. “She was piss drunk.”
Avery frowned, then frowned harder because it hurt. She wasn’t used to being around someone who swore so much.
“Yes, she was very intoxicated. But I saw him earlier. He was back that hallway. I saw him there.”
“Waiting for the bathroom,” he stated.
Avery nodded and regarded his profile under the dim dashboard lighting. “Yes. He hit on us, I suppose. To put it simply, of course.”
“Your friend said he hit on you, not her,” he corrected. “She didn’t say anything about him hitting on her. His friends said he was watching you all night.”
That made her shudder. He didn’t seem to notice or probably didn’t care. She was making a mountain out of a molehill.
“Um, I guess so. He wanted me to dance with him. That’s all.”
His eyes narrowed as he stared hard at the winding road ahead of him.
“What?”
Tristan sighed, “He didn’t just want to dance with you. Nobody in there wanted to dance with you.”
“Oh,” she said, not quite understanding what he meant. “I think…”
“Men don’t just want a dance,” he interrupted with an angry face that he turned right on her. “You’d do well to remember that.”
She felt like he was reprimanding her. That irritated Avery. This wasn’t her fault.
“You should carry some mace or something,” he kept going.
“Noted,” she said curtly.
“Or an M60,” he added with a smirk and looked at her in the darkness of his truck’s cab. She saw the hint of a dimple in his left cheek through his short beard.
“I don’t need to carry a machine gun,” she said.
His head shot backward an inch with surprise. “You know what an M60 is?”
“Yes,” she answered honestly. “It’s a very high-powered rifle that takes a 7.62 cartridge. Belt fed and used by the U.S. military.”
“Okay, kid,” he commented.
“Excuse me? I’m not a child,” she rebutted irritably.
“Homeschool kid,” he corrected.
Avery was becoming vexed with him. “Yes, I was homeschooled. But I’m not a kid. I’m an adult. I live on my own, have my own car, have a very successful career underway.”
“At nineteen?”
“Yes,” she immediately answered very pertly.
“Are all homeschooled kids nerds like you?”
She sent him a glare full of daggers. Avery didn’t like being judged by people, especially not for the decisions her parents made about her education. A good education was the most important thing in the world, according to her father.
“You’re still just a kid, though,” he stood by his comment.
“I don’t appreciate that,” she said and folded her arms over her chest. She wanted to throw his dumb jacket on the floor of his stupid truck and stomp on it. Instead, she hissed as she crossed her arms because her right one was really sore. “Besides, how old are you?”
“Actually, I thought you were older,” he said. “I was surprised when your friend said you were only nineteen.”
“I’ll be twenty in a few months.”
“Wow, the big two-oh. You’ll be ancient,” he joked.
She scowled and repeated, “How old are you?”
He paused and said, “Twenty-five technically, but I’ve got some city miles on me. You don’t.”
She stared out her window and tried to ignore him. He was rude, and Avery didn’t like rude people. He was assuming a lot of things about her. He wasn’t that much older than her. Just because he had a bunch of ugly tattoos and a beard didn’t mean he was older and cooler and whatever ‘city miles’ meant.
“Oh, no!” she blurted
“What’s wrong?” he asked, glancing over at her.
“My phone. It’s not in my pocket. It’s gone. I must’ve lost it in the bar when I fell.”
“Do you need it right now? We’re almost to the hospital.”
She debated answering him. The way she answered his question would only further form his opinion of her. Instead, she shook her head and hoped her mother didn’t send out the sheriff looking for her for breaking curfew in an hour. There was no way she was going to tell him she had a curfew. He was already kind of a pompous jerk. As he pulled into the Emergency Room parking, Avery had to amend her opinion. He was a pompous jerk who drove her to the hospital. And lent her his jacket. And also saved her from being hauled away by an insane man with garbled speech.