Free Rome: A Marked Men Novel by Jay Crownover Page A

uncle to go to the doctor and he’s being stubborn. Cora called after work last night
    saying he sounds like he’s hacking up a lung and looks pale. He’s insisting that it’s just a cold, but even
    over the phone I can tell he sounds terrible.”
    I knew they were really close. Uncle Phil had raised Nash and been more of a parent to Rule than my
    own folks. I didn’t know much about the man, but by all accounts he was a real stand-up guy and I knew
    the guys held him in really high regard.
    “Maybe it really is just a bad cold.”
    Nash nodded and pointed at the half-smoked pack of cigarettes he had abandoned on the counter.
    “I picked up the habit from him when I was younger. It makes me nervous.”
    “Then quit.”
    “I’m trying.”
    I snatched the pack of the counter and tossed it in the sink. Nash hollered my name and swore at me as
    I turned on the garbage disposal.
    “Try harder.”
    He glared at me. “You’re a douche bag.”
    I shrugged. “I’ve been called worse.” I rolled my heavy shoulders and popped my knuckles.
    “You ready to do this?”
    He was still scowling at me. “No. I’m gonna swing by his place and see if I can harass him into getting a
    checkup, at the very least. Plus I have an early appointment.”
    “All right.”
    We said good-bye and I headed to the gym. I worked out harder than I had in a while, I think I was
    trying to burn out the memories, sweat out the coil of dread and unease that always felt like it sat in my
    stomach. I was sore and worn out by the time I showered and changed into an old pair of jeans and a faded
    tee with the word ARMY stenciled on the front. I opted to take my pickup in today since I was already
    dragging and didn’t feel up to muscling the Harley through downtown traffic.
    When I got into the bar Brite was already waiting with a list and a huge-ass BLT. It was too early for
    lunch, but considering the beating I had just put my body through, it was welcome. We chitchatted for a
    few minutes, he introduced me to his cook, a lady who was about the same age as him named Darcy, who
    apparently was also wife number two, and he ran down the list of the regulars that my too tired brain tried
    to process sluggishly.
    The list of tasks he handed over was impressive. He wanted the bar stripped, stained, and varnished. He
    wanted all the tables and chairs tightened and cleaned up. He wanted the battered wood floors stripped,
    sanded, and refinished. He wanted all the heavy kitchen equipment moved and the whole joint power-
    washed. He wanted all the lights changed out. He wanted the entire place primed and painted. He wanted me
    to build a stage. He wanted me to reorganize the liquor stock room, including adding new shelving and
    storage. It was all stuff that was fairly easy and mindless, nothing I didn’t think I could handle. In fact I was
    arrogant enough to think I could knock it all out in a couple of weeks.
    It took two days for me to realize I was going to be at the Bar forever. Every time I would get started on
    a particular project, one of the grizzled veterans would wander over and I would find myself stuck in a
    conversation about the best way to do it, or how they would do it, or what I was doing, who I was, where I
    was from, my rank and designation, which inevitably led to talk about the military and endless amounts of
    war stories. Before I knew it, the day had come and gone and I hadn’t accomplished much of anything. I
    mentioned it to Brite and he just shrugged it off and told me once again that it would be done when it was
    done, like I had all the time in the world. Like I didn’t need to figure out what in the world I was going to
    be now that I was a grown-up and no longer in the army. I tried not to let it rub me the wrong way.
    It was late Friday night, or rather super early Saturday morning and I was lying in bed staring at the
    ceiling. I was making a conscious effort not to use vodka as a sleep aid, but tonight I was regretting