Exposed King (Boys of Brisley 2)

Chapter Twenty-Seven:

Not Today, Satan

Mia was busy, Lovin’Spoonful was fully stocked, clean, and didn’t need me, there were no Gam-Anon meetings and I’d already painted and moved around the new furniture in the house. I had nothing better to do, so I figured I’d reward myself for finally completing the renovations by going to get a drink. As long as I was sober enough to meet Mia for our all-day date the following day, I’d be good.

I chose a little bar I hadn’t been to in ages. Once a frequent haunt of mine, Teag’s was the type of place you could go and lay your shit down. It had two pool tables and exactly three missing balls, a jukebox that only played sad, slow country, and a bar top so dirty it’d give you hay fever ... but they welcomed everyone. Race, religion, creed, identity, checkered pasts ... none of it mattered inside Teag’s. You took your fights outside and left your troubles at the bottom of a glass, and if you were lucky enough to find someone to keep you company, you treated them with respect.

I’d never once had a problem following Teag’s laws. And they were laws – rules were meant to be broken, but laws were a different story. Especially his.

For years, I’d popped in and out of there without making waves or breaking his laws. I always had a good time and went home lighter, but during this particular venture into Teag’s, I broke every damned one of them.

Every. Damned. One.

It started innocently enough. I walked in and ordered a beer, tipped my head to the gentleman a few barstools away, and minded my own damn business. I was off to a fantastic start – right up until Angel walked in. I tried to do the sensible thing and turn my back to him. I did, I tried. But for the first time since she’d called me, Destiny’s words ran through my head.

“He named our son after you.”

My fist tightened around my glass and I bit my tongue so hard it bled, but it didn’t do any good. The longer I thought about it, about everything I’d done for them and everything they’d done to me, about how far I’d come in my life and how he turned his nose up at me when I’d told him as much ... the more I wanted to hit him. Him having the audacity to name his kid after me so he’d remember every day whose life he stole was just the icing on the cake, and the candles on top turned into fucking dynamite when he tapped me on the shoulder and asked me if he could join me.

And that’s how it happened. I kept my troubles in my chest instead of leaving them at the bottom of a bottle, I held our checkered past against him, I didn’t show my company respect, and I damned sure didn’t take that fight outside. Every self-destructive, volatile tendency I had bubbled up and spilled over until I was taking a long-overdue swing and slamming my fist into that traitorous asshole’s jaw, and it was worth the life-time ban I knew I’d be getting for it. “No,” I said as I shook my aching hand out. “Seat’s taken.”

“What the fuck!” Fury burned on Angel’s eyes and then he swung right back, busting my lip in the process.

I hadn’t been hit like that in a very long time, and I had to say, it hurt a lot more than I remembered. I dove at him, tackling him to the ground and trying to pin him, but he was stronger, angrier, and quicker than me.

He had us flipped in a second and he hit me again. “Been trying to fucking fix this! Fuck you then, Ollie!”

He hit me again, this time in my torso, and I ... let him. I didn’t have much choice once he pinned my arms with his legs, but I didn’t try either way. Not when I felt pain splintering through my cheek, not when he shoved my head back onto the ground and stood up. “Go fuck yourself, you lonely bastard!”

My biggest mistake of all was staying down as my head swam and pain radiated through my body. I’d never been a fighter, that had always been Sterling. I’d known that. I knew he’d kick my ass, and he deserved to after I sucker-punched him. Maybe part of me felt like I deserved it on another level, too, but I unfortunately wasn’t given the chance to contemplate that.

Before I knew what was happening, I was being hauled to my feet and fucking handcuffed. I tried to protest, to remind everyone that I was the one who got my ass kicked, but Teag had Angel’s back instead of mine ... and so did everyone else in that bar.

So Angel stayed to drink my beer with barely a bruise on his stupid face, and I got a one-way ride in the back of a squad car for my troubles.

I’d managed to stay out of jail cells for almost a decade, and here I was, being booked and tossed unceremoniously into a cell. All of that progress gone, and for what? A hurt ego? Bruised pride? A woman I stopped loving years ago and a best friend I’d long since let go of?

I hated myself for it. I hated the walls around me, the bars in front of me, and the fact that I’d let it get this far. Why the fuck didn’t I just walk away?

Right. Because old habits died hard, and my dignity died harder.

“I’ll take my phone call, please.”

“Alright then,” Officer Collins said. “Right this way.”

He cuffed me through the slat and unlocked the door, then led me to the old payphone. I pressed my head against the cool concrete as I tried to remember Mia’s number and couldn’t, so I called Sterling instead. I pictured the look on his face when he heard the automated warning and nearly hung up, but he answered before I could.

“I swear to God, Oliver–”

“Don’t. Okay? Just don’t. I’m not calling you to save me and you can spare me the lecture anyway. I promise you can’t say anything to me that’s worse than what I’m saying to myself. I just called so somebody knew where I was, since it doesn’t seem like they’ll be able to let me out until Monday when the courts are open again and I can post bail. I’m dealing with it, Sterling. I need to own it this time.”

My brother was silent for so long I thought it might’ve disconnected. “I’m proud of you, Ollie. This is big for you, and I know that. Take care of yourself in there, okay?”

“It’s just the jail at the police station, it’s not like I’m in county or in prison. I’ll be fine. Just fucking hope Mia doesn’t leave me over this,” I admitted, my voice smaller than I’d have liked it to be. “You don’t happen to have her number, do you?”

“Why the hell would I have it?”

“I don’t know. Wishful thinking, maybe? Can you see if Zeppelin ca–”