All the Sky (7 page)

Thwarted from her normal course, Cory didn’t know what to say. So she reached over and squeezed his arm. He was getting some muscle tone. Interesting. The time was wrong to comment on that, so they sat in silence, listening to the cicadas and the night birds.

“They’re right about him, huh? He is a loser.”

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Nolan. Am I a loser? Lots of people think I am—Aunt Linz and Uncle Alex do. Your dad and I are a lot alike. Some things are hard, even when we want to do them.”

“But you’re here. I always know you’re here. You listen. Like now. Mom, he doesn’t even know me anymore. He doesn’t care.”

“Is there something you want to do about it?”

He looked out across the yard. A raccoon ambled across the dusty scrub, near Bonnie’s house. It stopped and looked over at them, sitting back on its haunches. Its eyes shone eerily in the glow of the dusk-to-dawn light. Once it decided they were harmless, it headed on its way.

“I just need to reset my expectations, you know? Not expect him to even care. Then I’ll be okay.”

Matt had been a decent father, once. When they were married, and when he was home. He and Nolan had some major differences in their personalities—Matt was an athletic extrovert, who could barely stand to be indoors, and Nolan was an introvert who preferred video games to sports—but Matt had been carefree and fun, good at pulling Nolan out of himself. Not much of a disciplinarian, but Nolan had never needed much disciplining. Not in her opinion, at least.

And then he’d given her an STD, and she’d had enough of his extroverted dick. Splitting had been her idea—her demand, much as it broke her heart—and after not much more than a year divorced, Matt had moved away, to a team in Nebraska—and then he’d just moved on.

Nolan was right. It was time to acknowledge that Matt didn’t want to be in their lives at all. But Cory found herself unable to say those dire words to their son. So she said only, “I love you, kiddo.”

“Love you, too.”

~oOo~

“It’ll be fine! We’re usually quiet on Mondays, anyway. And this isn’t Tuck’s. He won’t get into trouble here.”

“You think Havoc will have a problem?”

Bonnie shrugged. “Doubt it. But he won’t be around until just before close tonight.” She turned to Nolan, who was sitting at the end of the bar, his laptop open. “Hey, bud? You should probably go out to the Beast around midnight, quarter past, okay?”

He nodded, and Bonnie leaned over the bar and patted his shoulder. Cory saw him glance at her friend’s prodigious cleavage, blush a little, and look back at his screen.

“Okay, I gotta go. I got the shipment in and logged, just needs to be shelved.”

“I got it—thanks, Bonnie.”

“No trouble, sugar—have a good night!” And out the door went Bonnie, dressed to kill. Monday seemed a strange night for a big date, but her steady was an over-the-road trucker, so she took him when she had him.

And then, an hour before open, Cory and Nolan were alone in Valhalla Vin. The cook, Drew, would be around in half an hour or so, prepping the tiny kitchen for the few small plates they served. In the meantime, Cory would stock and prep. Nolan was with her this evening because he was bored and the bar had wifi. She was nervous; she’d only had this job just more than two weeks, and she didn’t want to cause a problem, having her teenage son at the bar.

But it had been Bonnie’s idea, and she’d been working there since the place had opened. And Nolan really was bored. Through all their troubles, he’d always been able to get online. Being limited only to his phone at the RV, and not always even that, was making him surly again.

He also had his sketchpad and pencils with him, but those were stacked against the wall. For now, he pushed earbuds into his ears and started to play. Cory was heartened at the way his expression eased as soon as he was in-game.

The evening passed smoothly. There was a steady, if small, group of people. Cory hadn’t been around long enough to distinguish Signal Bend residents from anyone else, but she had noticed a little group of fairly regular customers. No one seemed bothered by Nolan at the end of the bar. In fact, when, about halfway through the night, he closed his laptop and started to sketch, he attracted some amiable attention. Cory could see that it made him feel awkward, but he showed what he was making whenever someone asked, and he was shyly gracious in response to their praise.

It was a dragon, becoming more and more detailed as the night went on. He really was good. Nolan was fifteen, but he’d never expressed much of an idea about what he wanted to do with his life. Cory blamed herself for that—they lived a life in which they were always focused on getting to the next day, in which the next thing was the next downward step into penury. She supposed it was hard for him to think beyond that. If he wanted to do something with art, she’d support his choice. But she also knew that it probably meant a life in which he’d continue to focus on getting to the next day.

Around ten-thirty, Havoc came in through the front door. He wasn’t supposed to be here so early. The nerves in Cory’s stomach twitched uncomfortably. She darted a glance at Nolan, but he was engrossed in his drawing. It was too late to send him outside at this point, anyway.

As always, even now, when she was worried she was about to get yelled at, or worse, Cory’s baser interests first made note of how hot Havoc was. About six feet, or an inch or two more, he had a broad, athletic build, muscular without being gym-bound and veiny. His head was shaved, and he had a full, but trimmed and nicely groomed, black beard, threaded with grey. She guessed him to be late thirties, maybe forty. His eyes were so dark brown they might as well have been black.

He had sleeves of ink over both of his upper arms—a blackwork tribal piece on the right, and an elaborate piece on the left. She hadn’t been able to figure that one out, because he always wore snug, black t-shirts that covered his shoulders and the tops of his arms. For all the definition of his body those t-shirts showed off, they did obscure his ink.

He was hot, but he was still a jerk. Cory had yet to see the decent guy under the jerk exterior. So far, in his best mood, he was abrupt and uncommunicative. And he had a tendency to say things like “calm your tits” and “don’t get your thong all twisted up.” Truly, he was a delight.

But Cory had kept her lips zipped, swallowing down every retort that entered her head. She’d had so many in these past weeks, she thought there might even be a song in them—and it might be a kick to sing it here, though she knew he’d never notice.

He walked behind the bar, his eyes instantly on Nolan, who still hadn’t noticed anything but his dragon. Cory girded herself for whatever was going to happen next.

“Who’s that?” He nodded at Nolan’s tousled black mop.

Suddenly, she realized that there was something worse than getting fired. There was Nolan seeing her get ripped by her boss. “That—that’s my kid.”

His dark eyebrows went up in obvious surprise, but he said nothing.

She reached over and patted her hand on the bar next to Nolan’s sketching hand. “Nolan. Hey, I want you to meet my boss.”

Nolan looked up. Seeing Havoc, he dropped his pencil, stood, and reached his right hand over the bar. “Nice to meet you, sir. I’m Nolan.” Cory was proud.

Havoc, however, laughed out loud, and Nolan’s forehead wrinkled in confusion.

“Only people call me sir, kid, are the ones facing my fist.” He reached out and shook Nolan’s hand; Cory could see Nolan’s shock at the firmness of the shake. “Havoc. No booze, kid. Not here.” Then he took a step up to the bar and leaned over, examining the sketch Nolan had been making. “That’s good. Make a good tat. That what you want it for?”

Nolan shook his head, fighting the proud smile trying to lift the corners of his mouth. “No, s—no. I’m, uh”—he blushed bright red—“I’m trying to design a game.”

“Like that dungeon thing, D&D or whatever?”

“Not really. More like a video game. Like Elder Scrolls, but with time travel, so other kinds of worlds, too.”

“Time travel. Cool.” Havoc leaned on the bar, his arms crossed. “What system you play on?”

“Xbox.” That was true, but Cory had had to sell their television when she was trying to hold off the last eviction. “Or, you know, PC.”

“I play Xbox, too. Got a sweet setup at the clubhouse. I like shooters more than RPGs, though.”

Nolan nodded. “I like those, too. Call of Duty, that kind of stuff. There’d be worlds like that in this game.”

“That’s badass, kid. Nice.” Havoc stood straight, and, without another word, went back to the office.

Nolan watched him go. When he met Cory’s eyes, he was beaming with pride.

And Cory was utterly gobsmacked. She’d seen the decent guy under the jerk after all.

~oOo~

After she’d finished her close, as Nolan was packing up his stuff, Cory went back to the office and knocked on the door frame. Havoc was working up the deposit. He came in every night to do it, never allowing anyone else to cover for him. He looked up, his eyebrows lifted in expectation.

“I just wanted to say thanks for not busting a seam over Nolan. Sorry I didn’t ask first.”

He shrugged. “Don’t fuckin’ serve him, but as long as he’s not in anybody’s way who’s payin’, it’s okay with me. Doesn’t he have any better place to be?”

“He hasn’t met anybody around here yet, and we don’t have internet where we’re staying, so he had a good time, being able to game online and draw. It’s what he likes most anyway. That and taking stuff apart and putting it back together. So he was good. Thanks.”

For a couple of awkward seconds, he gave her a weird look, like there was something he wanted to say. But then he just looked back down at his work. After another quiet second in which she determined that the conversation was over, she went out, collected her kid, and headed home to their borrowed RV.

CHAPTER FIVE

Havoc ducked as Steve Bohler swung. Before Steve could recover, Havoc came in and nailed him in his side, just under his ribs. He pulled a little at the end, not looking to take out a kidney or anything, but still Steve went down, winded. Havoc grinned down at him, and then turned, looking for the next place to land a punch.

Damn, he loved Tuck’s, especially on a Saturday night. He didn’t know how the brawl started, but then, he hardly ever did. Everybody just knew that at some point, some disagreement would get lively, and then everybody would start moving tables and chairs out of the way. Any damage was on the Horde to make right, so they paid more attention than most. But nobody was trying to fuck Tuck’s place up, so right in the middle of the fighting, people would grab a bunch of beer glasses, or a chair, or whatever, and set it aside. Like they’d rehearsed—which, considering the frequency with which this happened, Havoc supposed they kinda had.

Made running Valhalla Vin just about worth it. The people who didn’t like the fighting drank there, and left the real men (and women) to their fun here at Tuck’s. Tonight’s crowd was all town, in fact, so the Horde were letting it go a little further. Havoc caught sight of Isaac, lifting a chair out of the way of a couple of falling bodies—Len and…Darren Brown. That was a mismatch, and Darren didn’t get back up until Len held out his hand to help him.

Isaac didn’t hang out at Tuck’s on Saturdays that much anymore. With an old lady and two rugrats at home, and with things quiet with the club and with the town, he took most weekends off, did his woodworking thing, or whatever people did when they had kids. And he didn’t fight much himself anymore, anyway—at least not for fun. He wasn’t what he’d been before C.J. put two shells full of buckshot in his back at close range. He was still strong and steady—or he was again—but he walked with a slight limp, and he had what he called ‘respect’ for his back. So if he was going to fight recreationally, he kept it to the ring. When he
needed
to throw a punch, though, he didn’t hesitate, and he didn’t pull.

It looked like Badger had gotten himself into a fix, one that didn’t look quite so friendly, and Havoc went over to help out, yanking Evan Lindel off him, while Badger went at Billy Knox. Huh. Those guys were all friends, and this scrum was hot. Havoc put Evan down with a jab to his solar plexus and took a beat to watch the ferocity with which Badge and Billy were going at it. Looked like tonight’s brawl started here, and this was no friendly disagreement.

Badger slammed Billy into the wall and dislodged a big old Busch beer sign. Havoc jumped forward and caught the sign—he figured that shit would cost a damn fortune to replace—and then Isaac pulled Badge back. Billy was a bloody mess, but he tried to take another swing at Badge while Isaac had him in a bear hug. He missed, but that shit was dirty fighting. Havoc set the sign on the floor and grabbed Billy by the throat, slamming his head into the wall. That slowed him down.

The brawl was dying off, and people were starting to shake hands and put the room to rights. Isaac nodded to a table off in the corner and led Badger there by the scruff of the neck. Havoc, understanding what Isaac wanted, wrapped his hand around Billy’s neck and followed Isaac. They forced both into chairs.

“What the fuck is goin’ on, boys?” Isaac sounded like an angry father. Billy, apparently too pissed to be intimidated by the much larger man, crossed his arms with a huff and said nothing. Isaac looked at Badger, who wiped blood from his nose and lip and flung it on the floor at his feet, said, “Private shit, boss.”

“Wrong, Badge. Not private once you bring it in here. So what?”

Badger was obviously uncomfortable, but he didn’t say anything. Havoc was glad to see that he held Isaac’s look, too.

It was Billy who spoke. “He’s putting it to my baby sister!”

Actually, most of the Horde were putting it to Jerri Rae Knox. She’d been on the roster since Christmas. No problem there. She was nineteen and nubile. Havoc didn’t bother much with her, because he preferred a fuck with more experience, but he’d taken her for a test drive or two. She was enthusiastic, and oh, so firm and silky everywhere, but she scared easy. Not for him.