Free Tragic Love by M. S. Brannon Page B

corner booth, shrugging myself against the cool vinyl seats. I just want to be alone with my hurt and the whiskey.
    The bar is pretty secluded this time of day. It’s only me and a couple of regulars, but as soon as the factories change shifts, the bar will fill up pretty fast. By that time, I’m hoping to be completely numb and passed out in the front seat of my Chevelle. I have nowhere else to go. I can’t go home. I can’t face her because that would mean I need to face the reality of our situation and I simply can’t do that right now.
    I tip my head back and allow the whiskey to burn down my throat as it warms my belly and makes my head spin. When I feel the hurt try to escape my eyes, I don’t allow it, taking another long guzzle from the bottle. It runs out the corners of my mouth and down over my chin. The burn is making its way back up my throat, but I choke it down then wipe the drops away with the back of my hand.
    I can barely keep my eyes open as the whiskey intoxicates my body. I must have started to pass out because, when I lift my head from the table, I see Reggie is standing next to it. His arms are crossed over his chest and his face is unreadable. This is the same look he has been giving us for years; where he demands answers without even saying a word. I’m sure my behavior is questionable right now,considering this is something I’ve never done—drowning my problems in whiskey like Jake does—so I can’t evade this look and the questions that follow. In my drunken state, though, I will try. I’m not ready to tell anyone what Presley’s done to me.
    “What’s up, Reggie? Do you want a shot?” I ask, trying to keep the anger from my voice.
    “No,” Reggie states calmly, waiting for me to start spilling my guts, but I refuse.
    “Then what the fuck do you want because you’re standing over me and it’s starting to piss me off.” Through my hazy vision I can see his body go rigid. I’ve never talked to Reggie like this and I can tell instantly he’s ready to punch me.
    He readjusts his weight on this feet and my blood begins to boil as well. Reggie is one intimidating son of a bitch, even now, when I stand almost as tall as he does. I know exactly what he’s capable of and he’s shown me his strength everyday as we spar with one another in the garage. We’ve had this routine ever since Grady knocked me out over two years ago. Right now, though, all he is doing is pissing me off, and as much as I love and respect Reggie, I will fuck him up just to get him out of my face. What’s going on now is none of his business. It’s mine and I’m man enough to take care of it. I don’t need him to intervene.
    “Start talking, Drake, before Darcie takes you home.” Reggie’s voice is cold and demanding. I’m not sure if it’s the whiskey or the shitty day I’ve had, but all I can feel is the boiling rage in my blood and how I want to take out that rage.
    I slap my hands on the table, causing the half full bottle of Jack Daniels to teeter and then make the attempt to stand. The anger of the last couple of hours is growing to an enormous beast inside me. I need to unleash it and it’s going to be on Reggie’s face because he simply wouldn’t leave me alone.
    I meet his eye and then everything inside me explodes. With my right hand I swing viciously at his face, but he ducks then his fist comes straight to my midsection. Fucker! He fucking hit me. I pull back and take another swing, but Reggie quickly deflects my fist away.
    Darcie comes around the bar and is now standing between us. Words are leaving her mouth, but nothing registers. Reggie spins me around, pinning my arms behind my back as I try to will all my strength to fight against him, however my body is too sluggish. That’s my eyes focus to the light shining through the entrance and Presley standing just inside the door.
     
    Presley
    Watching Drake drive away from me breaks the last piece of my fractured heart. I knew he would