“I still can’t fuckin’ believe you got fuckin’ jumped. What’s this damn town comin’ to?” Hank Wilson asked. He was a redneck country boy from Kansas who’d played ball with Colt since their freshman year. They were friends, although Hank’s days were numbered. He didn’t make the cut for the draft.
“Yeah, it sucks, man. If I’d’ve fuckin’ been there, this would be a way different deal.” Paul Moon slurred his words while slamming a drunken fist down on the small round table in front of him. He was another four-year player, and he reached across the table, giving Hank an angry fist bump.
“Damn straight, it’d be a different fuckin’ deal. We should be out lookin’ for those mother fuckers. It’s such bullshit, man!” Hank agreed, his words said on a slur as spit flew out across the table. They were all completely trashed. So much for studies! Colt was the only one who was in line to end his college years with a degree. Now, it sure was looking like that wouldn’t be happening. He didn’t see any of his professors allowing him to come to class drunk, and he didn’t ever plan to be sober again.
“Nah, calm down, I handled it,” Colt said, and drained his Jack and Coke, lifting his hand for another. The tail his dad had on him sat perched at the bar, drinking water, and every so often looking over to check on him. They were easy to spot, and he wondered if they were just an intimidation tactic. Hell, it worked. Colt was intimidated, and the guy served as a constant reminder he needed to protect Jace at all cost.
“You’re being shady fuckin’ quiet about this, Colt. What’s the deal?” Hank said, leaning almost across the table to get closer to Colt. The spit never slowed as Hank eyed him closely.
“You never drink this much,” a cute blonde said to him. She stood just to the right of Colt, concern on her pretty downturned face. “Are you okay?”
“He’d be better if you sucked him off right now,” Paul said to the cheers of Hank, both were now focused on the girl who shot them a hateful look.
“Don’t be rude,” the girl shot back, before turning to Colt. “You don’t look good, Colt. Let me call Magda. You don’t belong here like this…” She was cut off in mid-sentence, and from out of nowhere, her body was shoved down against Colt’s. The girl lost her footing and slammed into him. Pain shot the length of his body, momentarily robbing his brain of function. He shoved back in his chair, but hit the wall as her face made contact with his crotch.
The guys at the table where hooting and hollering, carrying on as Hank shoved her head down. He held her firmly in place, pressing her face against Colt’s blue jean covered groin. The girl let out a scream and pushed against Colt’s stomach and ribs.
“Goddammit, Hank!” Colt yelled, but he wasn’t heard. He focused on controlling her hands, which pushed her farther into his lap. Jace appeared in front of him, pulling the girl from Hank’s hold.
***
Jace walked through the streets of Austin worried sick about Colt for two solid days. He had waited for hours at the hotel, well past the time of check out. Somewhere around six o’clock in the evening Jace finally sent one single text message asking if Colt was okay. He never heard anything back. He waited at the hotel until about nine that night before he finally called Gregory for a ride home.
Jace missed class the next day, waiting for Colt to call. He’d also missed his classes on Tuesday worried sick, waiting by his phone, the television on, hoping to hear something, anything, from Colt. Jace couldn’t figure out what possibly could have happened. Surely if something terrible happened, the local news would cover the story. Colt was as big a celebrity in their small town as just about anyone. When he hadn’t heard anything, Jace started scouting out Colt’s townhome complex, and then pacing the halls in front of his classes.
By midnight Wednesday, Jace did the girl thing and called all the hospitals. When that effort turned up nothing, he again walked past Colt’s place about thirty times before deciding to head into town. He had no plan, except to search for anyone who might know something about Colt. Funny how the thought never occurred to him Colt might have abandoned him at the hotel. It still didn’t as he walked past the bar where all the football guys hung out. Jace glanced through the big open window at the front of the bar, and his heart seized in his chest when he saw Colt sitting at the table with his friends. What the hell?
From where he stood, Jace could see Colt had been beaten up. As he gazed in the window, Jace’s worst fears materialized as he looked closer at the side of Colt’s bruised face and body. Jace pulled out his phone and texted Colt while standing there staring in through the window. He’d never entered this bar before. The Shaggy Dawg was restricted domain, a guy’s guy kind of place. Every player that had ever given him a hard time hung out at the Shaggy Dawg. Jace waited and watched, but Colt never searched out his phone.
The thought occurred to Jace, maybe Colt had been mugged and they had taken his phone. Maybe? But it was Colt slightly turning in his chair, giving Jace a better angle of his torn up face that made him throw caution to the wind and enter. Jace pushed through the front door, stepping inside, ignoring everything going on around him. He wound his way directly back to Colt’s table. All the while he tried to calm his pounding heart. He needed to play this cool and yet somehow get some answers.
As Jace got closer, he saw a girl at Colt’s table. She spoke directly to Colt. Jace recognized the girl from her years of hanging out with the guys. He got close enough to see her being shoved down by the head toward Colt. To Colt’s credit, he recoiled at the touch, pain clear on his face. It wasn’t within Jace to ignore such a violent act, and he instinctively intervened when Hank wouldn’t let her go.