Out Bad

Out Bad

Janice M. Whiteaker

“Who’s that?”  Joe nodded across the bar at the
sandy-haired blond chatting with his buddy Heath's wife.  He watched as
the woman laughed, leaning back in her chair, tossing her long hair over one
shoulder and ignoring all the looks coming her way.

“Nobody you'd want to mess with.”  Heath tipped a half
empty bottle to his lips. 

Joe took a sip from the top of his whiskey, his eyes never
leaving her over the rim of the tumbler.  She stuck out like a sore thumb
in this place.  In a real good way.  “I beg to differ.”

“Well if you’re in the mood to beg, maybe she’s right up
your alley after all.”  Heath raised his finger to the bartender, ordering
another beer.  “She’d chew you up and spit you out without breaking a
sweat.”

He could make her sweat. He was positive of that.  In
his younger days, he would have tried to prove it.  Probably even tonight,
but he was no longer young and no longer stupid.

“She a friend of Gabbi’s?”

Joe noticed her the minute she’d walked in and much to his
dismay, so did every other man within eye shot.  In a sea of black Harley
shirts and Miss Me jeans, she was like an oasis sparkling against the
horizon. 

A gold glittery shirt slipped off one creamy white
shoulder.  Jeans that fit her long body like a second skin met boots with
impossibly tall, ridiculously thin heels that most women wouldn’t be able to
stand in, let alone saunter through a packed bar in a way that made every
desirable part of her body sway just right. 

Heath sighed dramatically from the stool beside him. 
“I’m telling
ya
man.  Don’t even think about
trying to mess with that woman.”

Setting his drink on the bar he tore his eyes from her and
turned to the best friend he’d ever had.  “Why does it matter to
you?” 

Joe eyed him suspiciously.  Something was up.  In
the past three years, nobody spent more time than Heath trying to get him to
talk to any pretty girl they came across.  So why not this one?

Heath was peeling the label off his half empty bottle of
beer, occasionally looking up at his wife and the mystery woman, then shaking
his head.  He finally put the bottle next to Joe’s drink on the bar and
leaned in.  “That’s Gabbi’s sister.”

Joe looked back across the bar at the two women.  Never
in a million years would he have figured that out on his own. 

Heath’s wife Gabbi was one of the best women he knew. 
The best woman he knew.  She was a good wife, a great mom and one hell of
a cook.  Meeting her made him think differently of the way a wife and
mother could be.  Should be. 

She wasn’t, however, tall.  Or thin.  Or
blonde.  Or stunningly beautiful.  Cute definitely, but the woman
beside her was much more than cute.  More than pretty.  She was the
kind of woman a man couldn’t help but take notice of, as evidenced by the
number of appreciative looks she was getting from the men in the bar.  Not
to mention the number of dirty looks she was getting from the women with those
men at the bar.

He turned back to Heath.  “So you’re trying to protect
her?” 

Joe knew it shouldn’t, but it hurt his feelings a little
that his friend wouldn’t want him around his sister-in-law.  Heath more
than anyone knew how hard he’d worked to turn his life around, hell, he’d even
helped. 

His friend laughed.  Laughed so hard he had to wipe
tears from the corners of his eyes.  “Not her.  That's her sister's
job.”  He pointed his finger right at Joe’s chest.  “I'm trying to
protect you.”

Joe looked across the bar wondering what it was about this
woman Heath was so worried about.  His buddy was trying to deter him, but
all he managed to do was make Joe even more intrigued by the woman he'd already
struggled to look away from for the past hour. 

Her looks alone were enough to make most men wish she was
theirs, but Joe wasn’t most men.  He was at a point in his life where good
looks would simply be  icing on the cake.  A pretty face didn’t
necessarily keep you warm at night or stand by you in hard times.  A good
woman did.  A woman like Gabbi.

Or possibly someone a whole lot like her, all the way down to
her genes.

He wanted to meet her.  

Not in spite of what Heath said, more like because of
it.  Heath wasn’t the kind of guy to be intimidated by many things. 
He was a father to two spunky little girls, a husband to their even feistier
mother, and a hardened detective for Christ’s sake.  If this woman had the
ability to ruffle a man like that, she might just be what Joe needed... 
No.  Wanted in his life. 

 “Why didn't you explain Gabbi's sister a little, uh,
better?”  He knew she had a sister, but last he heard she was living out
of town.  And he certainly never heard she was easy on the eyes. 
There was only one explanation. 

"She married?"  It shouldn't have
disappointed him as much as it did, but the idea of ending up with a wife even
a little like Gabbi, plus upgrading his friends to in-law's, was more than
enough to have him interested.

"No." 

"Engaged?"  He tried to keep his voice even,
but new ideas about the future he'd been working so hard toward were running
laps through his mind.  And they were picking up their pace.

Heath shook his head.  “I told you man.  She is
not what you’re looking for.” He glanced up. 

“Shit.” 

Joe followed his line of sight to the table occupied by the
sisters.  The seats they’d filled two minutes ago were empty.  

“Hey boys.” 

He heard Gabbi’s voice behind him and resisted the urge to
turn around.  The hair on the back of his neck pricked knowing the woman
he'd been watching all night was standing closely behind him.  He glanced
at Heath, the look of dread on his friend’s face almost making him laugh. 
She couldn’t be that bad.  Even if she was, that might not be a terrible
thing either. 

Finally, he decided he could safely turn around without
looking too eager.  He gripped the bar and used the leverage to slowly
spin the stool under him to face the two women. 

If a woman ever had ‘fuck off’ written across her forehead,
it was the tall drink of water standing in front of him looking everywhere but
at him.  Finally her eyes landed on his. 

“Hey Joe.”  Gabbi scooted past him and propped herself
between Heath’s legs before snuggling into his chest.  “I’m
gonna
go.  I’m tired and my ass is sore.”

Gabbi’s sister still hadn’t turned away from him.  Her
eyes stayed fixed to his until she was bumped by a drunken biker as he threw
his arm around her shoulders.  She slowly turned her head to look at the
hand he let rest dangerously close to her left breast.

“Hey sweetheart.” 

The man had most of his body pressed against her right side,
but she didn’t even flinch.

“I been eyeing you all night.”  He looked up and down
her front, his eyes pausing on her chest.  “How ‘bout you and me go
somewhere a little more alone?” 

She cocked an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed by his incoherent
offer.  “No thank you.”  Her voice was low and not even the least bit
sweet.  Using her index finger and thumb, she picked up the man’s hand
from her shoulder and dropped it.

“Frigid bitch." 

The man was a good two inches shorter than she was in her
heels, and over served enough to be very unsteady on his feet.  He made a
V with his fingers and held it up to his lips, wiggling his tongue between them
as he tried to take a step backwards. 

Joe was just getting out of his seat to help the guy out for
some fresh air when the drunken Romeo bumped into a group of people and
overcorrected, falling face first toward Gabbi’s sister.  She stepped back
out of the way of his flailing body and watched as he landed at her feet, never
batting an eye.

For a second they both stood looking at the unmoving man on
the floor beneath them.

“You always have men falling at your feet?”

Her gaze snapped up to meet his.  Her expression
softened.

"No.  I'm not usually--"  She blinked
hard, her more serious expression returning.  She looked back to the man
on the floor, nudging him with the pointy toe of her brown leather boot. 
She leaned across the bar immediately catching the eye of the guy behind
it. 

“There’s a man on the ground passed out.  You may need
an ambulance.”  Her voice was calm, her manner straightforward.

She stepped over the man, siding up to Gabbi and Heath who
were wrapped up in their own conversation and missed the whole
fiasco.   “Gabbi, I’m sorry, but I'm exhausted.  It’s been a
long day and I’m really ready to go.”  Joe almost thought she looked at him
out of the corner of her eye.  "I need to get out of here."

Her voice sounded tight or maybe just tired, but he was
having a difficult time focusing on anything other than the smell of her
perfume.  After a day filled with smoky bars, bike exhaust, and leathery
sweat, her sweet rosy scent was like a breath of fresh air drawing him in.

“I’m coming.”  Gabbi pecked Heath on the lips and
turned to head past Joe, noticing the man on the ground for the first
time. 

“Holy shit what happened?” She directed her question his
way.

“Too much tequila I think.” 

“Oh.”  She stood silent for a minute obviously unsure
how to proceed.  She turned to where her sister stood, then back to
him.  “Uh, this is my sister Gwen.  Gwen, Heath’s best friend Joe.”

Gwen’s eyes studied him intently.  “Anybody ever tell
you, you look like Tarzan?”

Joe flinched inwardly.  He spent years getting away
from the nickname he was given his first day in the club.  Every time he
heard it was like a knife to the gut reminding him of all the terrible things
he had done when he was known by that name. 

Every time someone mentioned it, he considered shaving off
the shoulder length hair that was the most obvious reason for the
comparison.  But he liked his hair.  It wasn’t what made him Tarzan
back in the day and not having it sure as hell wouldn’t be what kept him from
being Tarzan now.  “I’ve heard that before.”

A slightly amused smile curved one side of her mouth. 
“I bet you have.”

Gabbi grabbed her sister’s arm and began tugging her toward
the door.  “We’ve got to go Joe.  I’ll see
ya
later.” 

He watched as the two women made their way through the
crowd, sidestepping the paramedics as they came busting through the entrance,
scanning the crowd in an effort to find their victim.

“
Here.
”  He raised his arm,
catching their attention then turned back to the bar to finish his long
neglected drink as the lights of the bar brightened and the music was turned
down.

Heath leaned around him trying to get a look as the medics
crouched beside Gwen’s would be suitor.  “What happened there?”

“Drunk.”  He downed the rest of the now warm and
watered down liquid.  “Tried to hit on your sister-in-law.” 

“She hit him?”

“What?  No she didn’t hit him.”

“Jesus.  You hit him?”  Heath rubbed his hands up
and down his face. 

“I told Gabbi this wasn't a good place for her.”  Heath
started muttering under his breath, the only words Joe could make out were
something about women and pains in the ass.

“Nobody hit him but the floor.”  He glanced over as
they loaded the inebriate onto a stretcher and shoved him through the
crowd. 

“Why would you think she punched a guy for hitting on her?”

Heath was watching as they wheeled the guy out of the
bar.  “Stranger things have happened.”  

The minute the door closed behind them, the lights dimmed
and the speakers once again blared classic rock for the fifty bikers looking to
end their evening on a high note.

“Looks like they had a good turnout today.  Hopefully
made a bunch of money.”

“Yeah.”  Heath looked relieved to be discussing
something besides his very attractive and supposedly uninteresting
sister-in-law.  “Kids with cancer always get a big crowd.”

Joe nodded.  “As they should.” 

Nothing got a bunch of hairy, tattooed bikers to open the
wallets chained to their jeans like a sick kid.  Especially when it was
the kid of a fellow biker’s son.  As the man made his rounds through the
packed establishment, thanking everyone for coming, he was greeted with
handshakes, hugs, and tears.  It was a marked contrast to most similar
events he’d participated in during his former life.

“Glad you came out?”  Heath’s voice in his ear snapped
him out of his little jaunt down memory lane.  It was a trip he tried his
best never to make, but tonight made it hard to avoid.

“I am.”  He was mostly.  He got to ride in a group
again.  This time to do good.  

He hadn’t ridden with more than one other rider, usually
Heath, in years.  Today he got to ride with at least fifty other
bikes.  Men and women, old and young, all out to enjoy the day and raise
money for a good cause.  “It’s been a long time.”

“How’s it feel?”

“Good.” 

In the years since his life had changed, most of the time he
spent on his bike was alone, trying to work out where he’d ended up and figure
out how to never end up somewhere like that again.  His bike was like
therapy to him and probably cost the same amount.

“I’m glad.”  Heath pulled his phone out of his pocket
and sent a quick text.  Gabbi was probably letting him know she made it
home.  “You’ll have to come out more often.”

It had taken more than a few invitations for Joe to be ready
to ride like this again.  He wasn’t sure how it would make him feel, what
it would bring back.  Having done it and ended the night feeling good about
it made him proud of how far he’d really come.  It showed him he really
was headed in the right direction. 

Heath leaned in close and nodded across the bar.  “I
think that little filly over there might be
lookin
’
for a good time.”