Big Man's Contract

I look out the window, seeing a car’s break lights come on just as they disappear around the corner. I can’t tell what kind of car or even the color because it’s just outside of the glow of the street lamps. All I can tell is that it’s some kind of sedan.

Running outside, my world starts to sink. Whoever it was has splashed red paint all over the front of the building and sidewalk. I step out further to see just how much the paint covers. I scream when I step on something sharp. Looking down I see that whoever vandalized my place has covered the parking lot in nails as well. This time when I scream it’s out of frustration. Luckily the nail isn’t in my foot too deep. There’s only a minor cut. Just enough to put me in a rage.

I go back into the bar and call Madden. He must not have been sleeping well either because he picks up on the second ring and doesn’t sound all that tired. I tell him what happened and I can tell he’s holding in his frustration as well. We both have been working so hard and someone came right behind us and ruined our efforts.

“I’m on my way,” he says and hangs up.

He arrives soon after. I’m still sitting in the front of the building, this time holding the bat that my dad kept behind the bar just in case the vandals decide to come back. Madden steps out of his truck. Though shadows cast over his face I can still see the anger there. He looks scary when he’s mad.

“Son of a bitch,” he says when he sees the extent of the damage.

“Tell me about it.”

His eyes shift over to me. They go wide when he sees the way I’m holding my foot.

“Please tell me that’s paint,” he says.

The wound isn’t deep, but there’s a lot of blood. “They threw nails all over the parking lot,” I say. “I think I got most of them. There was a magnet in my dad’s tool box. I’ll check in the morning after the sun comes up.”

He looks ready to kill someone. Walking toward me, he lifts me off the ground as if I weigh nothing and takes me inside the bar. He sets me down on the bench seat and goes into the office to find a first aid kit. He’s go gentle while cleaning my foot and applying a bandage.

“You’re staying with me,” he says.

“But—”

“No. There’s no arguing this time. If whoever did this comes back, they might take it out on you instead of the property. You’re not leaving my side tonight. You’re going to stay where I can protect you.”

He doesn’t leave any room for argument, so I nod and agree.

He drives me to his house, leaving my car behind in the parking lot. I’m afraid it will be vandalized too, but Madden doesn’t trust that someone hasn’t tampered with it.

We’re both so tired by the time we get back to his place that I pass out in his arms the moment my head hits the pillow.

The next morning when I wake up, he’s gone. I look around but there’s no note and I’m stuck at his home without a car. I try to call him but there’s no answer. I decide to walk back to the bar. It’s only a couple miles away. Walking will suck in this heat, but at least it’s early enough that it’s not that hot. I’m glad my foot doesn’t hurt anymore or this walk would be far worse.

As I walk I wonder where he went and why he didn’t tell me he was leaving. Maybe he had to work with Abe, or maybe he went to go get breakfast. If that’s the case, I might run into him on his way back. I’m not too concerned about it. Right now I just need to get back to the bar and see what other horrors I might find in the light of day. It’s possible there will be far more damage than I first suspected. I never went to check out the back of the bar.

Fear trembles in my stomach. My foot starts to hurt far worse than it did last night, and the further I get into my trek, the more I limp. I suppose I was too adrenaline drunk to really feel it then. I definitely feel it now.

When I finally get to the bar I’m thrilled and confused to see there are no traces of paint anywhere. Madden’s truck is parked out front and so is Abe’s. Abe is standing outside smoking a cigarette.

“How is this even possible?” I say to him, baffled. I was sure it would take at least several days to clean up.

“Madden has been cleaning it all night. He finally passed out in his truck a few minutes ago.” He points at the truck and I see Madden’s boots hanging out the window where his feet rest. I smile at the image and warmth spreads through my chest. “He called me this morning and asked if I would check your car to see if the vandals messed with it. Looks good. They placed some nails behind the tires, I suspect in the hopes that you would run them over, but it’s fine.” He snorts and looks over at Madden’s truck. “You’re in trouble, you know that?”