focused, each muscle moved in perfect succession with the next as he not only out powered almost everyone I had ever seen him take on, but he out witted them too.
When most people see a giant, tattooed mountain like him, they immediately size him up as muscle and no brains. It worked to his advantage and he liked to have the advantage. Only, I knew him. I knew him better than most and I could always see the gears turning behind the dark, deep set eyes, his nose just the right amount of crooked from when his convoy was ambushed in Iraq and he broke most of the bones in his face.
Nothing scared him. Nothing I had ever seen at least. His powerfully built broad frame was layered with lean muscle that rose and fell every night under the perfect bright white t-shirt he wore. Every night. White t-shirt, worn 505’s and his well broken in custom made Wesco Harness boots made up his uniform. The only other time I had see him wear anything else was two years ago when he put on an Armani suit to be a pawl bearer at my brother’s funeral.
It didn’t take long, and new faceless, nameless losers filtered back in the bar, filling the empty table left by the other drunks.
I watched Jesse move in the background, giving the girls on the stage some definite hand gestures telling them to get back to work as there were new customers around the stage eager to part with their money.
He was going to go into his office next because in the fight, one of the guys had spilled a beer on his shirt. A dark stain covered him from his hard flat abs across his chest. Sure enough, as soon as the girls moved with more of a purpose on stage, he turned and headed down the back hall to his office for a change of clothes. Of course, it would still be a white t-shirt, but he could never stand to wear that one again. He wouldn’t even wash it. It would go right in the trash.
My stomach gave a little flutter watching him walk away. Jesse and my older brother Kent had been best friends since 2nd grade when Jesse pushed him off the slide and they duked it out on the playground. I guess that’s how guys make friends sometimes, because they’ve been like brothers ever since. When I got taken out of Mom and Dad’s house, Kent was already living in a little guest house on the back of Jesse’s parent’s property. When Kent fought for me in court and became my legal guardian, I moved in and Jesse kind of became my big brother too.
“Fuck.” Four more hours in this shit hole. With Jesse in his office, I managed to pour my 42 ounce covered ‘coffee’ mug full of Grey Goose and Cranberry without anyone seeing me. Taking those burning sips between customers kept me sane. At least that is what I told myself.
Each hour became less and less focused as the vodka began to overtake my brain. By 3 am, we were clearing everyone out and I knew I better get my shit together before Jesse saw me.
“Where’s my purse…” I mumbled to myself as I tried to remember which hiding place I used when I arrived sober over six hours ago.
Finally, I found it inside the empty box of ‘Diamond Rocks’ tank tops the waitresses wore. I tried one on once, it had to stretch so far around me the glittery printing on the front was so freakishly pulled out of proportion it was barely recognizable. All the fucking chicks that worked here were like a size 2, except me. I’m sure if Jesse wasn’t my brother’s best friend, I would never have gotten a job in a place like this.
“Hey!” Someone yelled from above.
I jerked my head up from under the bar and slammed it into the corner of the metal sink.
“Ow!! Fuck!” Looking up, there’s Derek smiling down at me. He’s a regular and sometimes Jesse let’s him work after hours cleaning up.
“Hey.” Gathering my purse, for some reason I can’t seem to get it to stay on my shoulder as I sway back and forth, trying to focus.
“You look nice.” Derek gives me his best shit eating grin and we both know what he wants.
“Oh
When most people see a giant, tattooed mountain like him, they immediately size him up as muscle and no brains. It worked to his advantage and he liked to have the advantage. Only, I knew him. I knew him better than most and I could always see the gears turning behind the dark, deep set eyes, his nose just the right amount of crooked from when his convoy was ambushed in Iraq and he broke most of the bones in his face.
Nothing scared him. Nothing I had ever seen at least. His powerfully built broad frame was layered with lean muscle that rose and fell every night under the perfect bright white t-shirt he wore. Every night. White t-shirt, worn 505’s and his well broken in custom made Wesco Harness boots made up his uniform. The only other time I had see him wear anything else was two years ago when he put on an Armani suit to be a pawl bearer at my brother’s funeral.
It didn’t take long, and new faceless, nameless losers filtered back in the bar, filling the empty table left by the other drunks.
I watched Jesse move in the background, giving the girls on the stage some definite hand gestures telling them to get back to work as there were new customers around the stage eager to part with their money.
He was going to go into his office next because in the fight, one of the guys had spilled a beer on his shirt. A dark stain covered him from his hard flat abs across his chest. Sure enough, as soon as the girls moved with more of a purpose on stage, he turned and headed down the back hall to his office for a change of clothes. Of course, it would still be a white t-shirt, but he could never stand to wear that one again. He wouldn’t even wash it. It would go right in the trash.
My stomach gave a little flutter watching him walk away. Jesse and my older brother Kent had been best friends since 2nd grade when Jesse pushed him off the slide and they duked it out on the playground. I guess that’s how guys make friends sometimes, because they’ve been like brothers ever since. When I got taken out of Mom and Dad’s house, Kent was already living in a little guest house on the back of Jesse’s parent’s property. When Kent fought for me in court and became my legal guardian, I moved in and Jesse kind of became my big brother too.
“Fuck.” Four more hours in this shit hole. With Jesse in his office, I managed to pour my 42 ounce covered ‘coffee’ mug full of Grey Goose and Cranberry without anyone seeing me. Taking those burning sips between customers kept me sane. At least that is what I told myself.
Each hour became less and less focused as the vodka began to overtake my brain. By 3 am, we were clearing everyone out and I knew I better get my shit together before Jesse saw me.
“Where’s my purse…” I mumbled to myself as I tried to remember which hiding place I used when I arrived sober over six hours ago.
Finally, I found it inside the empty box of ‘Diamond Rocks’ tank tops the waitresses wore. I tried one on once, it had to stretch so far around me the glittery printing on the front was so freakishly pulled out of proportion it was barely recognizable. All the fucking chicks that worked here were like a size 2, except me. I’m sure if Jesse wasn’t my brother’s best friend, I would never have gotten a job in a place like this.
“Hey!” Someone yelled from above.
I jerked my head up from under the bar and slammed it into the corner of the metal sink.
“Ow!! Fuck!” Looking up, there’s Derek smiling down at me. He’s a regular and sometimes Jesse let’s him work after hours cleaning up.
“Hey.” Gathering my purse, for some reason I can’t seem to get it to stay on my shoulder as I sway back and forth, trying to focus.
“You look nice.” Derek gives me his best shit eating grin and we both know what he wants.
“Oh
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