A Solo Dance with a Second Chance

By Cynthia L Bohannan

The backdoor of ORyans Pub opened, and Jack slipped out into the blackened evening. Unrelenting fingers of the frozen night air wrapped themselves around his body while painful visions of Meg haunted him like razors slicing through his veins. Too many times he had been down this road.

Meg Greystone longed to leave the city of Beaverton, where all hope diminished. When she accepted a position with Mahto Ranger Station in northern Idaho, little did she realize the enormous challenges her new choice would bring. With a cold heart of stone, would she allow this journey to help her discover Gods grace, healing, and purpose?

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Dec 21, 2015
• ISBN: 9781512718607

Cynthia L Bohannan

Cynthia worked as an Outdoor Recreation Supervisor. Every day sustained challenging situations while working with all ages in the back country. She enjoys hiking, backpacking and kayaking, canoeing, snowshoeing and cross country skiing. Cynthia lives in Western Montana near the Canadian border with Glacier Park as her backyard. She has raised five children and enjoys eleven grandchildren. She embraces her walk with God and trusts on His promises.

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

THE TRIP HAD BEEN EXHAUSTING, TRAVELING THE LONG distance from Oregon without knowing whether she would settle or keep moving. The small town in northern Idaho lay thirty miles south of the Canadian border, resting on a valley floor surrounded by high jagged mountain peaks blanketed with snow, nestling among aspen and pine. The sun cast a yellowish glow downward as the day began to fade away. It was early August, and meadows ignited with countless colors of wildflowers dancing gracefully with the wind. Her thoughts drifted back in time to a phrase her husband used to quote each night before they retired, Come dance with me, where ever I may be. Her heart longed to hear his voice again. She tightened her grip upon the steering wheel as if to keep it captive. For too many years, she had experienced turmoil and pain. She faulted God, as the small U-Haul trailer swayed behind her medium-sized black Dodge four-wheel-drive pickup. Pot holes decorated the narrow two-lane highway as she approached what seemed to be Main Street in the pocket-sized town of Twenty-five hundred. Buildings lined the streets with the appearance of the early 1900s. It had been two days since leaving their home in Beaverton, Oregon, her spirits were at a crossroads. Home became a foreign word in her vocabulary long ago. A constant war persisted between her and God every day.

Approaching the junction on Main Street, a flashing red light hung from wires decorating the intersection. The scene triggered a movie reel of unpleasant memories as she proceeded through without stopping.

Mommy, you just ran a red light, Eric excitedly shouted, shifting around to see if there were any other red lights behind them. A flash of heat rushed through her veins when the siren sounded from the patrol car turning in behind her.

Great! Leave it to me to make a grand entrance and get to know the local police right away. Doesn’t he have anything better to do in this town besides waiting for someone to break the law? She surmised he must be bored. Maneuvering the truck to the side of the road, she managed to miss a few giant pot holes. Nervously, Meg braced herself for his lecture as she watched the local small town-cop approach in the driver’s-side mirror.

She sighed, tying her thick, auburn hair into a pony tail. I am not in the mood for this. Have I not suffered enough?

The officer caught Meg’s eyes in the mirror as he moved forward. She rolled down her window, Excuse me, ma’am, but you just ran a red light back there? Are you in a hurry to get somewhere?

Meg glanced back at the flashing light, facing him, she smiled. Actually, it was a flashing light, which makes it only a stop sign, correct? A slight tone of sarcasm laced her words.

The officer kept his cool, familiar with the nature of his work. It never ceased to amaze him how people could think he was wrong for pulling them over. Looking at his ticket book, he instructed, I’ll need to see your driver’s license, insurance card, and vehicle registration. He proceeded to glance inside the truck while Meg clumsily retrieved all he demanded and handed it over without a word. I’ll be back shortly. He walked back to his patrol car and radioed in the information. The radio squawked back, vehicle registered to a Margaret Greystone, place of residence listed Beaverton, Oregon.

After studying the documents, he walked back to Meg’s truck, Oregon is a might far distance. Can’t just be driving through with a U-Haul attached? We are sort of the last stop before Canada. So you must be moving here or to Canada?

Her right hand twisted a strand of hair that had escaped her tie and she thought before she spoke, "A moron in a uniform, how nice, Aloud she spoke, Yes, I have a job with the F.S. here, she paused, I mean, Forest Service." She thought he wouldn’t understand what F.S. meant. Her head lowered, and she thought in frustration, there must be a way to end this and move on.

Then you must know Big Jon? he surmised.

She snapped her head to match his eyes. Actually I don’t know anyone as of yet. I only spoke with him over the phone two weeks ago.

A look of surprise covered her face as she noticed for the first time his rich, chocolate-brown eyes and creamy tan skin. She detected a gentle calmness in his eyes as they intently stared back. Reassessing her judgment of him she guessed he was slightly older than her and threateningly handsome. However, men and relationships were the last things she cared to deal with at this moment in her life.

Gathering her wits at last, Meg spoke in a soft voice, Look, I’m sorry I ran the red light. I mean stop-light. Um, stop sign or whatever you want to call it but guaranteed, it’s not a stop-light! Meg smoothly ran her hands across her face and to the back of her neck and continued, I’ve been traveling forever. I’m a bit worn out. My son and I are looking for Cedar Hill Realty. I need a place before Monday morning. Could you possibly bring it upon yourself this one time to trust and believe I don’t normally run flashing red lights? Her eyes switched to the front, and her hands gripped tighter on the steering wheel. Please, just write the ticket and let me move on, were her drained thoughts.

Sorry about the inconvenience, missy, but I’m not the one that ran the red light! Officer Teal mockingly replied.

Hum! Not only is he cute but a smarty pants! She reeled her head around to glare at him and then thought best to lessen her look. He may not be the pussy-cat those eyes suggest. I know it’s not your fault. I’m just exhausted from driving all day.

Eric looked over at his mom, wondering if she would cry. He knew, that when she was really tired, she cried a lot.

Officer Teal removed his hat revealing his thick black hair, scratching the back of his head, Okay, I will write you a warning, but try to pay attention next time.

Meg turned and smiled. Thank you! she whispered.

Now, you can find Cedar Hill two more blocks up on the right. Tom, the owner is a good guy but… Officer Teal paused wondering if he should caution her about Tom or let her be the judge of his character. Tom had gained a reputation as the town’s playboy. Officer Teal chose to keep his knowledge to himself. Watch those red lights. He teased. He handed her the warning. Oh! By the way, are you moving here alone or is your husband following behind? He innocently inquired, not realizing he had touched a sensitive spot.

She snapped back quickly, I didn’t know I was required to answer personal questions. Which would best suit you officer, a yes or a no?

Officer Teal moved back a few steps from the truck, My mistake, I was out of line. I’ll let you be on your way. He handed back the information he requested earlier, knowing well he stepped beyond his job.

Guilt sang as she accepted the papers, I’m sorry for being rude. I am grateful for your thoughtfulness. The breeze coming through the window, felt cool on her neck. She released her hair from its tie. Swinging her head from left to right.

Officer Teal was taken aback by her beauty and feisty temperament. Again, he toyed with the idea of warning her about Tom and his promiscuous life style in this small town’s gossip column. Instead, he let it slide one more time. He noticed nervousness in her eyes. He smiled thinking, the vulnerability of the female gender! No apology necessary. I was definitely out of line. Please, if there is anything you need, feel free to call the station.

Meg, shyly returned the smile! Thanks. Hopefully I won’t need to call.

Officer Teal slipped his hat atop his head and walked back to his patrol car. Meg released a huge sigh of relief. Turning the wheel, she pulled the truck onto the street. Eric patted his mother’s leg and warmth filled her heart.

How did I do, young man? I suppose I was a bit snippy? stealing a peek at him.

You did fine, mommy. Her smile grew at the sound of her seven-year-old’s perception.

CHAPTER TWO

BEN RETIRED TO THE SITTING ROOM OF HIS VICTORIAN HOME in Portland, Oregon after an early dinner. Sighing, he picked up the newspaper from his cherry-wood roll-top desk and found his favorite spot on the brown leather couch. Arlene, his wife, stormed into the sitting room with a demanding question bursting from her lips, Where is Jack?

Ben, lowered his newspaper, You know better than I, Love. Lifting the paper, he went back to reading the stock market reports, trying to ignore one of her many outbursts over their son.

It’s already late into February. I haven’t seen hide nor hair of him. He is your son! Find him! I need to speak with him. she demanded.

Lowering his newspaper one more time, perturbed by another one of her explosions, he gently but firmly answered, That would be our son! Did you try his apartment?

He doesn’t answer. If I didn’t know better, I could swear he was avoiding me. She paced nervously back and forth over the dark blue and red Persian rug. I’ll bet he’s out on one of his drunken benders again. I give him the world and he throws it all away for a stupid bottle! She turned in disgust, ready to leave the room, when Ben folded his paper and stood.

Perhaps, you should have left his life alone.

Oh, shut up Ben! You stupid English moron. What would you know about life? All you do is sit and read. You never took interest in our son. So smug was her statement that Ben moved closer to face her, You never let me. He turned and walked out of the room. The cold slap of realization was beginning to hit her but not hard enough to pull back the reigns of control.

Two days past, late into the evening, Ben drove down to O’Ryan’s Pub. Dark evening shadows now covered the parking lot but he recognized Jack’s beat up light-green Mustang GT. Jack loved his car, even more so, because his mother hated it. Pushing his way through the noisy, smoke-filled crowd, he managed to pick Jack out sitting at a corner table by himself with a bottle of Cognac. His intuition had paid off.

Pull up a chair, Dad. Jack motioned to his father, not bothering to look up.

Ben took a chair across the table from his son, feeling sadness generating from his body. Unshaven, he was wrapped in a ragged topcoat resembling a homeless person. His red hair unkempt and greasy fit his appearance. How are you, Jack?

Cold..

Ben shook his head, Jack, what will it take to bring you to your senses? When are you going to give up your pity party and clean up your act? Gain some backbone and stand on your own two feet. Tell your mum-‘No More’!

Look who’s talking about a backbone! What happened to yours dad? Why didn’t you stand up for me? Jack raised his head staring at his dad, while circling his finger around the top of the amber bottle. Ben observed the pain held in his son’s rich green eyes, the very eyes that once were filled with joy and laughter. Ben’s heart sank. You aren’t a child anymore, Jack it is not my place to stand in the way of your decision-making once you leave home. Ben wrung his hands unseen beneath the table.

No! You could have been a better father to me while I was home! Jack snapped.

You’re right. I am sorry for those lost years. I can’t replace the past Jack but hopefully, I can help you now. We can make a new start. Ben leaned further onto the table to continue, only to be cut off by Jack.

Too late, Dad. I have lost ground. Damage is irreparable, beyond forgiveness. He tipped the bottle for another swig. I saw Eric the other day with Meg.

Ben was surprised at Jack’s statement. Did you speak with them?

No. I only observed from a distance, as I always do.

Jack, it’s never too late to make amends and change your life. Go speak with Meg. After all, Eric is your flesh and blood.

Jack tipped again, Why did you come here, Dad? Did you come for a visit with your lost son or to be Mother’s little messenger? What does she want of me, now? Isn’t it enough I have lost the ones I loved deeply? Doesn’t she own my soul already? Perhaps the devil and she have made a pact for my soul. He slammed the bottle onto the table, Yeah, I know some of this was my choice because I wasn’t strong enough to tell her to get lost. Jack paused, but it’s too late now. He paused again and then repeated his words, It is too late."

Ben shook his head, I’m here out of love for you, not as a messenger. It still makes me smile, remembering times we shared, when you were small. I miss you, Jack. And yes, you should have stood up to her. Tears held tightly on the cliff’s edge of his eyelids. Come home, Jack. Please, come home. Ben swallowed hard.

Moved by his father’s statement, a tear formed in his eye never to be released. I have always loved you, Dad.

Ben reached across the table and held his son’s hand for a few seconds. Their eyes connected holding each other captive where they sat. Ben released his son’s hand and stood. Straightening his coat, his final words pierced through Jack. See you at home, Jack.

Jack managed a smile. Home, the word seemed foreign.

Ben for a second time, pushed his way through the smoke filled, distasteful crowd.

Three hours later the backdoor from O’Ryan’s Pub swung open, slamming against the brick wall. Sleet, with the bite of ice pierced Jack’s face, as he rubbed his eyes, Feels like ten below. he murmured. Momentarily, he stood numb to his senses until someone inside yelled, Shut the door man! He moved away from the large metal door and it closed quickly, blocking the only light.

The dark, desolate alley closed in around him the nearer his approach to main street. The pounding of his heart could be heard like drums echoing signals, as each step staggered onto the rain soaked ground. An amber bottle clenched in his left hand swung like a pendulum keeping rhythm with his sloppy gait, catching the torn pocket from the long dilapidated trench coat. Pavement from the alley a quarter inch lower than the sidewalk caused Jack’s foot to stumble, thrusting him forward. Trembling fingers released the bottle, which shattered into a million pieces upon contact. Skin from the palms of his hands peeled, as he slid across the pavement. His right cheek released the first layer of skin through a scraping motion, as his tattered body came to rest. Jack lay stunned resting in a slump, half on the sidewalk and half in the gutter. Street lights above cast their yellowish-brown glow upon him, as rain droplets mixed with snow rushed in a race with the light toward the hardened ground. Icy unrelenting fingers of the frozen night air, intentionally wrapped themselves around Jack’s limp body, while winter winds whipped to tighten their embrace. A gasp of cold air shortened every effort of movement and his memory stung from scenes of love and hatred. Visions of his past haunted him like razors slicing through his veins. Tears methodically fell, while he wallowed in self-pity one more time.

Lifting himself slightly, a speeding vehicle passed by splashing oily street water onto his already ragged, soaked clothes. He went unnoticed in the blackness of night. Not even a street cop was on his beat. He lowered his throbbing head and blood dripped from his cheek into the watery gutter. His teeth chattered uncontrollably. Jack effortlessly closed his eyes knowing well this was the consequence of the choice he’d made years ago. He convulsed in his weeping, realizing all hope was dissipating that night. Making no effort to raise himself up from this nightmare he had slumped into, he sobbed, Lord if you are up there and can hear me, forgive me. The writer of his story was scripting his last page.

CHAPTER THREE

WOW! THIS IS REALLY IS A SMALL TOWN! ERIC EXCLAIMED as they approached Cedar Hill Realty.

Meg ruffled Eric’s sandy brown hair with a deep hint of red and answered. Yes, Mahto is considerably smaller than Beaverton but I think we will be happy here.

Anxiously, Eric asked, Tell me what the house looks like that we are going to rent.

From what Tom described over the phone, I think you’ll like it, she answered, making a right hand turn into the parking lot.

Meg stretched as she stepped from the truck and inhaled a deep breath of sweet, mountain fresh air. Eric slipped his small hand inside of Meg’s, as they entered a half wooden, half window door, a bell rang overhead.

Tom looked up from his desk across the room and stood. Meg never dreamed he was this old. Voices are always deceiving over the phone. Dark leathery skin left no mistaking his age, yet he had matured handsomely. "Is everyone good looking in this town?" she wondered. A slight bowlegged stance with his cowboy outfit suggested a longtime horseback rider. Next to his cluttered desk, a dark brown leather hat festooned with a string of elk teeth, dangled from the right side of the coat hanger, along with a jacket that looked like it came out of the old western movies.

His hand extended as he strolled across the creaky old wooden floor and a deep rough voice asked, Hi! You must be Meg and Eric Greystone? I’m Tom Balkin.

Meg shook his hand, feeling the years of roughness, Yes, we’ve come to see the rental I spoke with you about over the phone two weeks ago.

Of course, let me grab the keys and a map to direct you out there. He searched through his old dusty wooden desk drawer as he continued speaking, How was your trip?

Long but fine, thank you, she mumbled, taking inventory of his office, noticing that most things seemed to have aged along with Tom.

Looking up from fumbling in his drawer he said, I would ride out with you but my secretary is out to lunch. It’s not hard to find if you don’t mind going there on your own.

Meg was staring up at a wall mount of a rather large elk head with a bear in the corner under it, barely listening to Tom mumble something about, the place is not hard to find.

Huh? she said, not realizing her mouth hung open. Tom paused and noticed the look on her face, He’s pretty big, isn’t he?

Ah yes, I was just admiring the size of this bear. When did you shoot it? she inquired.

About five years ago up in the Mahto Mountain Range, he actually was charging me full on. I raised my rifle and dropped him three feet in front of me.

Wow! Really scary! Eric said engrossed in Tom’s story.

Meg brushed her hands on the side of her pants and cleared her throat as she turned to face Tom finding him only inches from her. Stepping back she gasped, Oh, you startled me!

Didn’t mean to, Tom turned and moved back a step. Here are the keys. And placed them in her hand. "As I was saying, my secretary is out to lunch so I won’t be able to join you but the place is’nt hard to find.

That will be fine. And inadvertently, she brushed away his touch as he placed the key in her hand. She felt relief and realized she didn’t relish the thought of riding next to him not knowing anything about him.

Is everything okay? Tom asked, puzzled by her stare.

Oh. Yes, of course. I was only thinking about how tired I am and glad we’re here, she answered, stumbling over her words.

I suppose I could drive you out there if you need?

Oh. No, no of course not, that won’t be necessary. Stay and look after your office. Besides, it will give Eric and I time to look the place over without any pressure.

You are sure? he questioned.

Sure. And took the map along with Eric’s hand, thanking Tom before he could change his mind a second time.

Um, Meg?

Yes? she said whirling back around.

Would you like me to show you on the map where you are going? Tom asked as a smile crept across his face.

Oh, sorry! she was embarrassed one more time. I must be tired. She handed him back the map.

No problem, I understand. He unfolded the map onto his cluttered desk. Now, if you look here at the crossroad, take a right at this small lake about three miles out of town. You will be on the main highway heading to Canada. Next you will drive for about a mile down a dirt road which will be your first right. You should come to a row of trees lining the driveway to your left. He stopped momentarily to see if she understood.

Catching his look, she automatically answered, Yes I understand. Your directions seem clear enough.

Turn down that driveway and the house will be at the end. he continued.

I shouldn’t have any problem finding the house, seems pretty simple. Meg folded the map and escorted Eric toward the door.

See you two later. Tom called after them.

She waved a hand in the air, We’ll be back in an hour.

She turned the crank on the trailer hitch and unhitched the U-Haul from the truck. They both hopped in while Tom stood motionless at the window staring in their direction. She caught his gaze before lifting Eric into the truck and wondered what he was thinking.

Mountains jettisoned around them with razor edged peaks as they drove the three miles. I believe the map said to turn right at the crossroads onto the main highway after the small lake on the left side of the road. Then, right one mile on a dirt road to the first and only driveway to the left, Meg said, repeating the instructions given to them by Tom.

The final turn led them onto a narrow, rutted dirt road bouncing the truck to and fro, dodging the dense skirting of cedar and fir trees which blocked the view from either side. She assumed the trees were planted for privacy. The driveway gradually fanned open, revealing a large meadow surrounded by evergreen trees. A log home sat quaintly to the left with a woodsy appearance.

This is cool, Mommy! I can play hide and seek in these trees.

Just remember what Tom warned us about over the phone.

A slight mockery was noted in Eric’s voice as he answered, …that there are bears and mountain lions out here and to be careful.

That is correct, mister. So, I don’t want you out there unless I am with you. Understand? Meg scolded.

Yeah, but how about we get a dog? That way he’ll protect me when I’m out playing.

Eric Greystone, don’t be silly. Get out of the truck and let’s see what this house has to offer.

Okay but I still want a dog. He said in a sulky voice.

We’ll discuss that later. She gave him a gentle swat on the behind.

The front door creaked open and Eric squeezed by, almost knocking his mom over.

Hey! what’s up with that? she asked bracing herself against the door jam.

I’m the breeze rushing through.

Oh! Well I think the breeze needs to slow down.

The moderately sized kitchen lay to her left. It was designed in knotty pine with a window above the sink looking over a meandering creek. The living and dining area opened with a vaulted ceiling. A loft lay atop the kitchen, over-looking the dining room. The floors were decked in wood. Meg and Eric climbed the open wooden spiral staircase to the loft. A small isolated area to the left presented itself as a possible study room. To the right an open doorway led into the master bedroom, while the door slightly to the left was the smaller bedroom. The French doors in the master bedroom invited her and Eric out onto a cedar balcony.

It’s exactly as Tom described, Meg whispered with a contented sigh as she knelt down in front of Eric. Shall we go back and let Tom know we’ve decided to rent the house?

Eric jumped into Meg’s arms and said. Okay, Mom, let’s do it!

Before we leave I want to walk over to the creek. Meg smiled at Eric. She knew he wanted to see it out also.

This is cool mom! He said tossing a stone into the water. Do you think there´s fish in here?

I think, perhaps. Maybe we will give it a try once we are settled in the house. Meg took Eric by the hand and started back toward the truck. Best get back to town.

An hour later Meg entered Tom Balkin’s office and the burly man of five feet ten inches stood before them with his hands placed upon his hips. How was the house?

Great! Eric shouted before Meg had a chance.

Then you’ll take it? he said leaning over to look into Eric’s eyes.

Yes, I believe so. Meg commented and Tom stood erect.

Have a seat and we will get started. After filling out the paperwork you can start moving in. He pulled the necessary papers from his drawer and began writing.

So what brings you to Mahto? he inquired, as all snoopy realtors do.

Looking over the lease agreement, Meg shrugged her shoulders and answered, Not sure, other than a job.

Well, people don’t just happen by Mahto, miles from nowhere. Tom said pushing his inquisitiveness further. We are like the last spot before Canada.

Meg signed the last page and wondered if this must be the famous quote of the town to all who come. Standing, she faced Tom. When I find out, you’ll be the first to know and that officer, whoever he is, will be the second. Good day Tom. Thank you for helping us with the rental. Meg shook his hand with a smile.

You’re welcome, he said wondering what she meant about the officer and escorted her to the truck. He guided her back to the hitch of the U-Haul trailer and lowered it down for her, snapping it in place. Brushing his hands onto his faded blue jeans, he said, By the way Meg, I have some friends who wouldn’t mind helping you move in and when you are settled, maybe I’ll stop by for a visit.

That’s a sweet gesture but I think we can manage, unless they have nothing better to do, she said in a teasing manner.

Oh, they have plenty to do. It’s just our way of helping one another here in Mahto. I’ll see if they can meet you two at the house?

Meg extended her hand, Thanks Tom, it has been a pleasure doing business with you. Accepting the hand shake he replied, You’re welcome and likewise. I know you’ll enjoy Mahto, Meg and hopefully find what you are looking for.

Sliding into the truck a forced smile was her only answer to his question.

A few blocks later, Meg eased the Dodge truck into a small gas station and Eric jumped out. Meg hollered, Hey, where are you off to in such a scoot?

Potty! He shouted back.

Well hurry, I’d like to get unloaded before dark.

I will. He shouted as he charged through the door of the gas station before she could blink.

Apprehension swept over Meg. She was out of her comfort zone. With trusted friends left behind in Portland, including Mick, her dearest friend, Meg knew her new adventure would be challenging. She inserted the credit card into the gas pump and muttered, I’m surprised a town as small as this actually has pumps that accept credit cards.

Eric came rushing out as fast as he had gone in and jumped into the truck while Meg closed the gas cap. Are you ready for all of this? she asked, fastening her seatbelt.

He took her hand. As long as you and Jesus are with me I am ready for anything.

I see, she noted and smiled. Well I wonder where the grocery store is in this town? I wouldn’t think that it would be hard to find. I mean if I can make my way around Beaverton then certainly, I shouldn’t get lost here.

Eric stole a quick glance her way.

What? Are you implying that I get lost easily?

He stole another quick glance and they laughed together.

CHAPTER FOUR

JACK’S GUILT CUT LIKE THE RAZOR SHARP STEEL OF A SWORD penetrating deep into his soul. He slapped the dirty, oily water in the gutter with his good arm. Drunk, tired and cold, an hour had slipped by when a city patrol car eased to a stop. Mick stepped out knowing full well what had taken place.

Come on, Jack, Mick said, slipping his hand under Jack’s soaked arm to lift him. Jack stumbled to his feet and fell against the patrol car.

Looks bad this time, when will it end, Jack?

When I’m dead and can’t feel pain anymore. Jack answered coldly in his shivering drunken stupor.

I don’t buy it. You have no idea what you are missing. Go see them, Jack.

I don’t deserve her. I tossed them away like they were tattered rag dolls waiting for the garbage truck.

Well, we all make mistakes. Seems to me your mistakes are getting worse instead of better. Let me have a look at that cheek.

Yeah. Well, how would you know what pain is? All you cops do is inflict pain upon others, he snapped. And leave my cheek alone. Jack reached for the door and fell on to the pavement.

Mick picked him up again. Believe what you like, Jack. Your sensibility is screwed up right now. You’re so drunk, even Joe down the next block walks better than you. Let’s get you up to the hospital to bandage your cheek. It doesn’t look pretty. Mick tried to open the back door of the patrol car and balance Jack at the same time.

No need, I can make it home and take care of it myself.

Can’t let you do that Jack, it’s three in the morning and you’re a long way from home. Hop in.

What do you care, Mick? You have everything you want. Everything. Jack began to vomit.

Mick waited for him to finish. Jack wiped